Free The Accidental Proposal by Matt Dunn

her, given everything else that (according to the magazines, at least) will be going on around us. And while there seems to be an awful lot to organize if we’re going to have the kind of wedding I’m imagining, I still want to get married as soon as possible. Which is why I need to get Sam to agree to a date. And soon.
    The afternoon passes all too slowly, thanks to the series of interviews I’ve got scheduled, and I almost shove the last candidate out of the door in my rush to get home to Sam. She’s sitting at the kitchen table when I get back to the flat, and as I dump the pile of wedding magazines on the chair next to her, she looks at them suspiciously.
    ‘What are all these for?’
    ‘Well,’ I say, once I’ve eventually got my breath back from carrying the heavy bundle home. ‘I was thinking. We should, you know, do it.’
    ‘Here? On the kitchen table?’ Sam widens her eyes at me. ‘Steady on, Edward.’
    ‘Be serious, Sam. I mean, what about a date?’
    She pats me on the hand. ‘That’s sweet of you, Edward, but you don’t have to keep asking me out on dates. I mean, we’ve been together for eighteen months, and we’re engaged now.’
    ‘A date for the wedding.’
    ‘Oh,’ says Sam. ‘Sorry. Right. Well, er . . .’
    ‘Because I was thinking sooner rather than later. You know, why wait?’
    ‘Well, because I might meet someone better, and . . .’ Sam catches sight of my expression, then grins at me. ‘I’m joking, Edward.’
    I reach into my pocket and remove my mobile phone, then click on the calendar option. ‘So when would work for you?’ I say, rather formally.
    ‘What’s the rush?’
    ‘The rush is . . .’ I can’t tell her there’s no actual rush, it’s just that I’m so relieved we’re actually engaged now that I don’t want to risk her changing her mind. But I might as well be honest. Sort of. ‘The rush is that I just want to be married to you.’
    Sam leans across the kitchen table and picks up her diary. ‘That’s lovely, sweetie. But these things take a bit of time.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Well, we’ve got to make sure my mum and dad can make it, for one thing.’
    ‘Do they have to?’ I’m scared of Sam’s dad, who’s got a little too much of the East End gangster about him for my liking, particularly when you consider his early retirement to Spain and the shotgun he keeps above the fireplace in his villa. At least I haven’t had to ask him for his daughter’s hand, given the fact that Sam proposed to me first, because I’m not sure which of my body parts he’d have wanted in return. ‘I mean, I forgot they had to. Come from Spain, I mean.’
    Sam picks the pile of magazines up from the chair next to her and puts them on the table, then indicates that I should sit down. ‘And they’ll need a bit of notice; they’ve got to arrange their flights, after all.’
    ‘Which is why we should at least decide on a date,’ I say, obediently sitting down next to her, ‘so they can go ahead and book them. Plus, we’ve got things to book too. Have you thought about which church, for example?’
    Sam frowns at me. ‘Which church?’
    ‘I mean, I don’t even know what team you support.’
    ‘What team?’
    ‘You know. Catholics, or the old Church of England.’
    ‘Which one are you?’
    I shrug. ‘The one where you get the wine and the little snack.’
    Sam laughs. ‘You make it sound like a tapas bar.’
    ‘Because we ought to go ahead and check. Make sure they’re free on the day. Meet the vicar. That sort of thing.’
    ‘Ah.’ Sam swivels round on her chair to face me. ‘I actually thought we might go for something a bit more low key, you know? I’m not particularly religious, and all that church stuff, well, it’s a bit hypocritical if you don’t actually believe , isn’t it?’
    ‘Is it?’
    ‘Well, yes. I’d be making all these promises in front of someone I’m not sure actually exists. And there’s all that ceremonial stuff too . . .’