Free Wedding Belles by Sarah Webb

bedside light and looks questioningly down at me. I slept on a blow-up mattress, if “slept” is the right word. I was tossing and turning all night, thinking about Seth, and I hardly got a wink of sleep. I’m exhausted this morning, and my whole body aches. I don’t want to say too much in front of Sue. I frown and shake my head at Mills, hoping that she’ll get the message.
    She looks disappointed, but says brightly to her mum, “We already have plans, Mum. But thanks for the offer.”
    “Meeting the boys, are you?” Sue says. “Tell Bailey and Seth I wish them both a very happy Saint Patrick’s Day.”
    “OK,” Mills says. “We’re going to get dressed now, so . . .”
    Sue smiles. “Of course. I’ll leave you to it. See you later, sweetheart. Back by six for dinner, please. And Bailey’s welcome to join us for food if he likes.”
    “Thanks, Mum, I’ll tell him that.”
    As soon as Sue has closed the door behind her, Mills gives a deep sigh. “Well, that wasn’t awkward at all. Sorry about Mum. She can be a bit full-on in the mornings. Are you sure you don’t want to go to the parade? It might help take your mind off things.”
    There’s a flicker of hope in her eyes.
    “There’s this amazing cheerleading team from Boston over for the march,” she continues. “The Boston Twirlers. They’re All-American champions, apparently. Nora-May was telling me about them — her cousin’s in the squad. I’m dying to see them!”
    I feel bad. Mills has been so sweet to me. I don’t want to stop her enjoying Paddy’s Day just because I’m an emotional mess. She loves the parade, and I know she’ll be disappointed to miss the Boston Twirlers. I can’t believe Nora-May’s cousin is in the squad. No wonder the girl in the video looked like her. If I were feeling better, I’d confess how much my cheerleading skills owe to the Boston team and their ultra-useful YouTube clips.
    “I completely forgot,” I say. “I promised Mum I’d help her with the babies today. You go to the parade with your parents.”
    “I could always babysit with you, and we could watch the parade on the telly,” she offers.
    “No, honestly, it’s fine. We did that one year, remember, when your dad was supposedly dying from the sniffles, and it wasn’t the same.”
    “Are you sure?”
    I nod. “Yes! Now, you’d better get dressed or you’ll miss the Boston Twirlers.”
    After we get dressed, Mills skips off into town with her parentals while I go back home, hoping Mum and Dave will have taken the babies to the park or something, so I don’t have to talk to them. But who am I kidding? They’re rarely dressed by lunchtime on a Sunday, let alone out of the house, and today is no different.
    Realizing they are in, I let myself in the front door quietly and attempt to sneak up the stairs without being detected.
    “That you, Amy?” Mum yells from the kitchen.
    Siúcra!
“Yes, Mum,” I say loudly. “But I’m just going upstairs to have a shower.”
    “Come here first.”
    I sigh and walk through the kitchen doorway. Mum is leaning against the sink. Behind her, through the window, I can see Dave throwing Alex up in the air and catching him. Evie is sitting on a rug on the grass, giggling at them and clapping her hands. They look so happy, and it just makes me feel all the more sad.
    “Not going to the parade with Mills and her folks?” Mum asks me.
    I shake my head. “I think I’ll give it a miss this year.”
    “Are you sick? It’s not like you to miss the Paddy’s parade.” She reaches out a hand to touch my forehead, but I step back.
    “I’m fine. I think I just need some rest. I’ll be in my room if you need me.” I go to leave, but she puts a hand on my shoulder.
    “Amy, what’s up?” she asks gently. “Did you have another fight with Mills?”
    We have had two almighty falling-outs, all right, but thankfully that’s all in the past, and we’ve both sworn that it’s never going to happen again.