Sophie Delaney was just minding her own business seeing in the new year from the peacefulness of her own home. Until one wrong number call changed that.
Daniel Whitaker is furious. Beyond furious. How dare his girlfriend cheat on him, and with his...
"Yeah, why not? Life's too short to hold a grudge."
"Gee, thanks. That makes me feel so wanted."
"You're wanted."
"Oh, am I?"
"Are you flirting with me?"
"I'm trying to butter you up."
"For what purpose?"
"Well, remember this wedding of ours-"
"The New Year's Eve one?"
"That's the one! Anyway, I have found the perfect dress."
"Just to be clear, we're not actually getting married, are we?"
"No, but-"
"But you've found a dress for this non-existent wedding?"
"Kinda. I'll rephrase- I've found a dress for when I get married. To whomever that may be."
"Weren't you all anti-marriage before?"
"If I was, I'm not now. You should see this dress, Daniel!"
"Send me a picture."
"Really?"
"You know you want to."
"You know me so well!"
"That I do."
"Ok, I'm sending it to you now. Thank God for smartphones!"
"Or, thank Steve Jobs for the iPhone."
"I don't have an iPhone."
"You're stuck in the dark ages, my love."
"There's nothing wrong with the phone I have."
"Apart from the fact it's a Nokia."
"It's a Samsung."
"It may as well be a Nokia. Anything that isn't an iPhone is a Nokia. It's like the Hufflepuff of phones. Where's this photo?"
"I'm sending it. Chill out. Just, take into consideration that the photo was taken about a month ago at the couture show as the model was coming down the runway, so it's not the best shot of it, but trust me when I say that it's exquisite up close. I can't believe I missed it before. Let me just... select it."
"..."
"Whoa, wait a second and backtrack! The Hufflepuffof phones? Where are you getting these Harry Potter references from? Did you read the books, Daniel?"
"Harry Potter is a book?"
"You know they're books. Plural. So...?"
"I may have brushed upon the Potterverse, as you put it."
"Oh, I am so proud of you! Right, photo's coming your way. Right... this... second... Ok, it's sent."
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"That's the dress?"
"Um, yeah... What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing, just... if you ever want to make New Year's official, let me know. You'd look breathtaking in that dress."
"Really?"
"Well, you know... you'd look beautiful in a bin liner, but that dress is simply something else."
"I know, right? It's Zuhair Murad. The bodice will need a little more work and stuff, but..."
"But what?"
"No, nothing. It's a nice dress, that's all."
"Nice? What happened to enthusiasm about it being the perfect dress?"
"It was the perfect dress. Until I remembered that I'm single and not currently seriously dating, therefore wedding dresses are not a priority. Maybe I can try and persuade Emma to return her Vera Wang gown and get this one instead."
"So you can see your dream dress sashaying down the aisle on someone else?"
"Well, there's no chance of me finding someone stupid enough to want to marry me, so yeah. If that's what I have to do, then I'll just have to see someone else wear it."
"Sophie, men are stupid to not want to marry you. I mean, c'mon! Look at you. You're funny, beautiful, fiercely intelligent and opinionated, you speak several language, travel the globe and still remain one of those girls that would go to a place like MEATmarket, wearing skinny jeans and Converse hi-tops. Men are probably lining up to want to date you."
"Must be an invisible line. Anyway, enough about me and my pathetic life, let's talk about yours. How was your day?"
"The usual. I told Evelyn about our tour around Paris and she, too, thought it was hilarious that I went to Les Catacombes. She wants to see photos, so when you get a chance, text some through to me so I can show her, will you?"
"You actually want people to see your scaredy cat face when you saw a skull?"
"It's only Evelyn. So long as she doesn't try showing it to someone else, then there's no harm. Oh, can you send the selfie you took of us up the Eiffel Tower, with Paris in the background too, please? That photo was a nice one."
"I'll have the photos printed at work, and have hem couriered over to you as soon as I get back to London."
"No, you don't have to do that. Just send them and I'll run into Boots or something to get them printed there."
"Boots? No, sweetie, we do not print photos at the pharmacy. I'l have them done professionally. The results will be worth it, I promise."
"Fine, but only if it's no trouble."
"It won't be. I'd like copies too, so I'll just ask the guys to make two sets. Shall I get you the entire set or just those two?"
"Oh, the entire set, if you're offering."
"Cool. Maybe you could put one in a frame."
"That was the plan."
"What, for your 'Argh! Skull,' photo?"
"For the one of you and I."
"..."
"I like how my face looks in the picture."
"Said no straight guy ever."
"Well, I'm a straight guy and I just said it, so..."
"Semantics."
"Don't you have work to go to, Miss Clément?"
"I do, yeah. I have a show in ten minutes. Is this your way of getting me to hang up?"
"In a way. I have a meeting to get to and I'd like to arrive early. I'm going up against a brute of a divorce lawyer and I'm determined to make a good impression on the judge."
"Kiss some arse, you mean?"
"More like, score some brownie points. It's across London, too, so I better get my skates on."
"Ok. Well, I'll call you tomorrow, then."
"Cool. When are you back in London?"
"The plan is to be back on Friday."
"Alright. Let me know tomorrow what the real plan is so we can arrange to do something."
