Charlotte Delaney has sworn off men. After one relationship disaster after another- including turning a guy gay!- Charlotte is so over the male species.
Isaac Fletcher had his heart cruelly broken. Yes, it was years ago. No, he never got over it. I...
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"Why are we going again?" I question Sam in my most uninterested voice. My squatter had rocked up at my bedroom door armed with a white shirt that he threw at my head as he demanded that we get ready to go out.
"Because she's your sister," Sam replied in a tone that suggested the answer was obvious. "And he's my brother. They've just got back and are freakishly excited to share all their honeymoon stories with us. Plus, it's the rugby. Who doesn't want to go to that?"
"Me?" I say with hope in my voice. When Sam laughs, I sigh heavily. "I think I preferred it when Sophie and Daniel were arguing because at least then they weren't so keen on socialising. As for the rugby, I'd rather poke needles in my eyes."
Despite my protestations, I sulked towards my ensuite bathroom where I promptly did a quick change that even Superman would be proud of. I threw my works dress onto the floor and pulled on a pair of indigo coloured skinny jeans and then examined the England rugby shirt Sam had given me. It was a new shirt so I guessed that he'd gone out today to buy it for me especially for tonight. The Six Nations Championships started today and England is playing France in about an hour or so.
Still, I looked at the shirt with some trepidation. As far as I knew, Sophie and Daniel had invited my family along to their little shindig and that in itself would be a disaster. My mother being French, I knew that it would make more sense to wear the French shirt rather than the English but then again, if Dad was going to be there, too, then I should maybe wear the Irish shirt. Ireland, however, had lost their opening game to Scotland and that can't have gone down well with my father.
Oh, the minefield. After a little hesitation, I pulled on the white shirt. It wasn't because I wanted to but rather that I came to the realisation that I didn't have any sports shirts of note apart from my hockey jersey from my school days.
"You look good," Sam noted, barely looking up from the screen of his phone when I returned to the bedroom. Leaning over him, I spied that he was playing Linkee and was trying to guess what linked four answers to questions. He typed in his answer before closing the app and placing his phone in his jacket pocket. "Ready to go? Do you even know where Dirty French is? It sounds like a brothel. Seeing as it was Sophie's suggestion it really shouldn't be surprising that she chose somewhere questionable."
Dirty French, far from being a questionable brothel, is my family's latest acquisition. Coming from a family full of foodies, the Clément side of my family are restauranteurs and they now owned seven establishments across London, Dirty French now being one of them. It was a tiny, hole-in-the-wall kind of place but thanks to familial connections, it was the place to be seen currently. With limited space, the place would be full once all Sophie and Daniel's friends and family turned up.
My sister and her new husband had recently returned from their honeymoon and had rung a few nights ago, inviting us all to join them at Dirty French. At first, I'd been reluctant to go because I knew that Isaac would be there but after a pep talk from Sam, I found myself applying a single layer of mascara as I readied myself to leave.
