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traded all her money and houses to
have her parents back - even if just for her wedding day.  I would have
done the same.
    “Stay!”
Laura said, turning to face me.  “It’s Paul’s stag do tonight, and I don’t
much fancy being on my own.”
    I
nodded.  “Sure.  I’m not at work tomorrow.  I’ll nip home for a
few belongings.”
    “Good,
because I’ve got some calls to make.  Check up on the cake, photographer,
that sort of thing.”
    Half
an hour later, I returned to Laura’s house with a bag in one hand and a bottle
of bubbly in the other.
    “You
shouldn’t have,” Laura said, opening the front door.  “We’ll have bubbly
coming out of our ears if we keep this pace all week.”
    We
kicked back on the sofa for several hours watching a romcom movie.  Having
failed to engage Laura in chitchat, I got the impression that company was not
something she wanted, despite having invited me round.  The bubbly stood
unopened in the fridge. 
    I
could have chosen this down time to ask Laura why she’d overreacted in town,
but I recognised her need for not wanting to talk, as much as the times
when she ached to get something off her chest.  Perhaps she was worried
about what the guys would do to Paul on his stag night: string him to a
lamppost, naked, or something equally humiliating.
    My
stomach began rumbling. 
    Laura
must have had the same feeling.  “Takeout time.”
    “Good
idea, Bridezilla ,” I said.  I put my hand over my mouth to conceal
my grin, dreading her reaction.
    A
hint of a smile flashed onto Laura’s face.
    My
phone rang, giving me no time to get excited about food.  I glanced into
the hall following the tune, cheerful yet annoying.  I needed to download
a new ring tone. 
    Laura
bolted to the kitchen looking like she’d entered a race, only to stop when she
realised it was my phone ringing.  “Oh, I thought it might be... Paul.”
    I
came up behind her and picked up my mobile.  “Don’t you know your own
ringtone?”  I pressed the phone to my ear.  “Hello?”
    “Hi. 
Is this Chelsea?” a smooth, male voice asked.
    “Yeah. 
Who is this?”
    “Lee.”
    “Oh!” 
In disbelief, I mouthed his name to Laura. 
    Her
eyes rolled in response.  “Leave the poor guy to grieve,” she whispered,
then put her head next to mine and listened in on the call anyway.
    “Phillip
gave me your note,” Lee said.  “The one you wrote on a serviette.  We
need to meet.”
     “Meet?”
I said.  “It’s about your brother, right?  I thought we could just
talk on the phone.”
    “It
would be better in person.  But tell me one thing, you’re definitely not a
reporter, are you?  Because I don’t want my mum, who’s distraught enough
already, opening the paper tomorrow and reading—”
    “No. 
Like I said, it was a ploy to get free drinks.  I swear.”
    Laura
tensed at my side, shook her head and stepped away from me.  A drawer
scraped open and she turned, waving a takeout menu in the air and smiling
brightly.
    “I’m
at my friend’s for the night,” I said.  “Can we meet up tomorrow?”
    “It
won’t take long, besides, I’m busy tomorrow.”
    “I’ll
have to ask Laura.  It’s not fair if I… hold on.” 
    Her
eyes ran over the menu on the kitchen counter.  She said nothing, but I
sensed her growing irritation.  Before I could whisper a single word, she
shook her head again, without even looking at me.  Annoyed with her, I
said, “I’m going to meet him.”  I figured some time alone might be just
what she needed. 
    Laura
paused mid-motion.  Her attitude became clear when she dropped the takeout
menu back in the drawer and slammed it shut with her bottom. 
    “Are
you still there?” Lee asked.  “Can we meet?”
    I
tapped my thigh while watching Laura stomp toward the hall in a huff.  You’re
really doing my head in today , I thought, shaking my head at her.  Her
sharp gaze, while brushing past me, intensified my need to escape for