The Heartbreak Factor - Part Four

Chapter Nineteen.

Sat on the bed, I grinned down at Katy as she giggled back up at me. Studying her eyes, I felt myself getting warm inside. Every time I looked at her I fell more and more in love with her. “Hello beautiful,” I beamed as she lifted her arm up and grabbed a handful of my hair as the curls draped down off my shoulder. “One day you’ll have long hair to grab too.”

“Mummy!” she grinned, putting my hair in her mouth.

“Don’t do that,” I laughed, retrieving my hair back from her mouth that was dripping with saliva. 

Katy’s smile disappeared as I wiped the saliva off the ends of my hair. 

“Oh, you’re happy when mummy has soggy hair, are you?” I smiled. “You’re just a cheeky monkey, aren’t you? You can tell you’re daddy’s girl.”

"We don't have to leave her if you don't want to," George smiled to me, walking into the bedroom and wrapping his arms around my neck as he stood behind me, watching me as I got Katy ready.

"It's fine," I reluctantly said. "JJ and Elle are great with her and she's safe now - we all are."

"I can call the restaurant and see if she's allowed to come with us," George suggested. "And if not, we'll find another restaurant or stay in. It's only a reservation."

"George, it's fine," I smiled, turning around to look at him as I finished getting Katy dressed into her horse outfit that JJ and Elle bought her for her birthday as a joke. 

*

Leading me down the path,further into the desolated forest, George kept grinning back at me as we stepped on the twigs and leaves that were scattered all over the forest's floor. I had no idea what we were doing here, but it was obvious that George was planning something as I could sense the determination in his eyes. Carefully, I watched where I was stepping as my white diamante heels began to sink through the soil on the forest floor. The wind rushed past my legs and flowing through my dress, giving me goosebumps at the chill. 

"What are we doing here?" I asked George,feeling a little weary as we got deeper into the forest. "We're gonna be late for our reservation."

George didn't answer me; instead, he switched the torch off and let go of my hand, leaving me stood in the middle of the darkness by myself. 

"George, this isn't funny! Please, turn the light back on," I pleaded. "George."

"Happy birthday."

The darkness soon disappeared as fairy lights that lined the perimeter of a clearing in the middle of the trees. I turned around to see George stood beneath an arch made out of twigs and flowers, illuminated by the fairy lights. Straightening out his suit jacket, George looked up at me and gave me a smile. 

"What?" I grinned back at him.

"Come here," he smiled, holding out his hand for me to take hold of. 

I walked up to him, taking his hand in mine and stood beside him beneath the arch. 

"I, George, take you, Sammy, to be my.."

I interrupted him by giggling.

"You can't giggle when we do this properly," he grinned. "You've gotta be serious for those few minutes as we'll be spending the rest of our lives together giggling and being silly."

"Okay. Okay, I'm sorry," I said, trying as hard as I could to hide my laughter.

George took hold of my hands again and looked deep into my eyes. My heart skipped a beat as he smiled at me. "I, George, take you, Sammy, to be my silly, immature fiancee," he winked. "Your go."

"I, Sammy, take you, George, to be my annoying, immature fiancé."

"Annoying?" George asked, pulling an exaggerated shock face.

"Annoying!" I shouted. "And deaf."

"I love you," he grinned, leaning towards me and went to kiss me on my cheek.

I moved my head just in time so that his soft lips landed on mine. 

"I love you too," I smiled, mid-kiss.

*

“Table for Shelley,” George smiled to the waiter as we walked through the doors of the restaurant. “Sorry we’re running a bit late. There was bad traffic.”

“Shelley,” the waiter said, checking the reservations and completely ignoring George’s apology. “Follow me, Mr Shelley.”

I giggled as they referred to him as ‘Mister’. We followed the waiter, who was dressed in a crystal white shirt, jet black waist coat with matching jet black trousers and shoes that were so shiny I could have used them as a mirror to touch up my make-up with. Walking through the restaurant hand-in-hand, me and George looked around at all the fancy furniture and the extravagant art work that was hanging perfectly up on the rich red walls. 

“Is this table okay for you, Mr Shelley?” 

“This is divine, thank-you,” George smiled, evidently taking the mick out of the poshness of the restaurant and the waiter. 

George sat down on one side of the table while the waiter elegantly pulled the seat out for me to sit down. After we were both seated, another waiter – dressed in an identical suit to the first waiter – rushed over to our table and handed us a huge red leather menu each. The waiters soon dispersed, leaving me and George sat at the candle lit dinner with an awkward atmosphere around us. I opened up the menu and scanned through all the options, struggling to understand the majority of the dishes as they were all described in French –a subject that I did at GCSE but meant I could describe the lamp’s positioning in my bedroom or tell the waiter my great-grandfather’s cat’s name, not order food in a restaurant. 

“You look confused,” George smiled, looking at me over the candle that flickered in the middle of the table.

“I’m just deciding what to order,” I lied. 

“You don’t understand any of it, do you?” he laughed.

“I do,” I lied. “I think I might have the es-car-got bor-gig-none.”

George laughed at my failed attempt at reading the French. “Come on,” he smiled, standing up and holding out his hand for me. 

“But I thought tonight was gonna be a romantic date?” I asked, taking hold of his hand as he pulled me to my feet. “You said we needed to have a date night for my birthday.”

“We can have a romantic date at McDonalds.”

*

As the cars slowly crawled down the busy Oxford Street with raindrops lashing it down on the odd pedestrian, George and I sat at a window table and laughed at each other as we stuffed our faces with a Big Mac and large fries. 

“Now this is romantic,” I grinned, dipping two fries in the ketchup.

“Best birthday ever, right?” George joked.

“Yes,” I smiled. “Seriously.”