The Heartbreak Factor - Part Four

Chapter Forty-Six.

Pouting to myself in the mirror as I applied yet another layer of my new lipstick that George had treated me to on our last shopping trip to Oxford Street, I began to shake my hips along to the radio that was playing away to itself in the bedroom. Once I was satisfied that the hundred layers of make-up on my face looked fine, I walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom to find George sniggering to himself. 

“What?” I asked. 

“You really can’t dance,” he chuckled. 

“Says you,” I paused. “I remember you nearly tripping up during our first dance.”

“I wasn’t tripping up. I was falling for you,” he teased. 

“Jesus Christ, George. If you get any cheesier, I’ll have to divorce you,” I giggled. 

“But you like cheese,” he replied. 

“Yes, on pizza, George. Not on my husband..” I paused. “Husband. Still sounds weird.”

“Well, get used to it. Wife.”

I grinned instantly as the word left his lips. I was a wife. I was his wife. “That’s right. I’m the best wife since.. well, there hasn’t been a wife as good as me ever so I’m the first. But I’m still going to be the best wife since sliced bread.”

“And I think it’s fair to say that I’m the best husband since ever. Not every husband is as good as me, right?” he paused, waiting for my response - obviously he was expecting it straight away as he gave me a look of suspicion within a matter of milliseconds.

“I’m sure Brad Pitt is a good husband too.”

“Well, are you married to Brad Pitt?”

I shook my head. “He did ask but I had to turn him down. Couldn’t have him being unfaithful towards Angelina Jolie.”

George sniggered. “Just answer the question.”

“What question?” I grinned in an attempt to wind him up. 

“Am I a good husband?”

I nodded. “Of course you are. You’re the best I’ve had.”

“Funny,” he laughed, rolling his eyes. “Have you finished your little pouting dance session in front of the mirror for now?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “I might just cancel on our date night so I can spent the rest of the night looking in the mirror and pouting, taking selfies.”

“Can we go then?” 

“What’s the magic word?” I asked, continuing to wind George up - something I had perfected over the last few years since meeting him. 

“Cocktails.”

That wasn’t the magic word I was looking for. ‘Please’ would have sufficed but I liked the idea of cocktails so I nodded. I grabbed my clutch bag from the bedside table, collected a few bits of make-up from the dressing table and threw them into the open bag in case I needed to touch up my make-up whilst we were out and then followed George down the stairs. 

“Look at you two,” Jaymi laughed as he sat on the sofa beside Olly, who was cuddling a sleeping Katy.   “First proper date since getting married.”

“We’re not too old for this, are we?” I asked. 

“Sammy, would you stop going on about your age?” Jaymi smiled. “You’re not even 23 yet.”

“But I still feel old.’

“You still have the rest of your lives ahead of you,” Olly laughed. “Go out and paint the town red.”