Free The Accidental Proposal by Matt Dunn Page A

She takes my hand. ‘Surely the important thing is we get married? Not how we get married.’
    For some reason, I’m a little disappointed. I’d always kind of assumed that when I got married, I’d do it the traditional way, in a church with everything that goes with it. And yet Sam seems to be quite happy to go for the registry-office option, which to me is about as romantic as signing a contract to buy a house.
    ‘Yes, but don’t you think that sometimes it’s for other people too?’ I say, hoping Sam will think I mean family and friends, though I really mean me.
    She gives my hand a squeeze. ‘Edward, as far as I’m concerned, I wouldn’t mind if there was no one else there except the two of us. All that other stuff – the cake, the meringue dress . . . It’s just, well, dressing.’
    ‘Cake?’ I’m suddenly alarmed that my one excuse to eat something unhealthy in public seems to be going out of the window. ‘We’ve got to have a cake!’
    ‘I was just using that as an example. Anyway, why are you so fixated on this? I didn’t have you down as the religious type.’
    ‘I’m not. I just . . .’ I decide there’s nothing for it but to go with the truth. ‘I want to make a big statement to you and how I feel about you, in front of as many people as possible, including, you know, him upstairs. And it might sound a bit girly, but that’s kind of how I’d always pictured it.’
    Sam puts her diary down on the table, then leans over and kisses me. ‘Oh, Edward, that’s lovely of you. But I already know how you feel about me. And you’ve already made a huge statement.’ She fingers her engagement ring. ‘But our wedding day should be something to be enjoyed. Not endured. Which I’m worried it might be if we go down the traditional route.’
    ‘Yes, but . . .’ I start to object, and then stop myself. After all, what Sam’s saying makes perfect sense. What’s important is the two of us, and not some big affair. And thinking about it, I suppose less to organize means we can do it even sooner. With a sigh, I lean over and pick her diary up, flicking through the pages until I find the first available Saturday. ‘Well, if that’s the case, then we might as well go for the earliest date possible. How about the twenty-fifth?’
    ‘Of April? But that’s . . .’
    ‘Three weeks away?’ I smile at her, trying to ignore the feeling of panic that’s suddenly building up inside me, not only because by suggesting something so soon, I might have given her the perfect excuse to postpone indefinitely or even back out, but also because if she does say yes, then I’ll be getting married in three weeks . ‘Like I said, if we’re only having a small do, and not doing any of this stuff . . .’ I tap the pile of wedding magazines dismissively. ‘Then that shouldn’t be a problem.’
    ‘I suppose not . . .’ Sam thinks for a second or two, and then puffs air out of her cheeks. ‘Works for me.’
    ‘Don’t sound so enthusiastic.’
    ‘I’m sorry, Edward. The twenty-fifth would be lovely.’ She takes the diary back from me and writes the words REGISTRY and OFFICE in capital letters underneath the date, and then catches sight of my expression. ‘Are you disappointed? Not doing the whole church thing?’
    ‘Well, I . . . No. I mean, it’s your day, isn’t it?’
    I smile at her half-heartedly, feeling a little better that at least we’ve set a date. Trouble is, now there’s a different element of doubt in my mind: Why doesn’t Sam want a big wedding?
    I just hope the reason isn’t simply that she doesn’t want a big wedding to me .
Wednesday, 8 April
     
    11.52 a.m.
    Work’s pretty busy this morning. Natasha’s keen for us to impress a client we’re trying to land, and since – for a change – it’s a female client, this means she and I actually have to do some head-hunting, rather than rely solely on Natasha’s other specialist ‘skills’. I’m so busy, in fact, that I don’t get a