Confetti Hearts

Confetti Hearts CONFETTI HITCHED BOOK ONE LILY MORTON Copyright © 2023 by Lily Morton Book cover design by Natasha Snow Designs www.natashasnowdesigns.com Cover Image: The Cover Lab. Professional beta reading by Leslie Copeland www.lescourtauthorservices.com Editing by Edie Danford Proofreading by Lori Parks This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. References to real people, events, organisations, establishments or locations are intended to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organisations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Please purchase only authorised editions. The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following products mentioned in this work of fiction: Google, Mr Kipling, Panadol, Kahlua, Twix, Starbucks, Coke, Armani, Louboutin, Prosecco, Grindr, Mini Cooper, Marmite, Burberry, Pot Noodle, Adidas, AstroTurf, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Miss Dior, Tom Ford, Jägermeister, Laser Quest, Waitrose, Alexander McQueen, Trivial Pursuit, Uzi, J’Adore, Dior, Botox. All songs, song titles and lyrics mentioned in the novel are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders. Warning This book contains material that is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations. For Hailey who is always there for me even though we have a lot of miles between us. Thank you for being such a wonderful friend Contents Prologue Past Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Present Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Epilogue Newsletter Acknowledgments Contact Lily Also by Lily Morton One should always be in love. That is the reason one should never marry. Oscar Wilde Prologue Joe I come awake with a start from a dream about having to tap dance under the sea. It takes me a few seconds to realise that my phone is ringing. I fumble for it on my bedside table, jettisoning my diary, a box of tissues, my spare inhaler, and a packet of chocolate dragées onto the floor. “Shit,” I mumble, and my fingers finally find my phone. “’Lo,” I say thickly into it. Sounds of wild sobbing come through the airwaves. “Oh, Joe. Oh my god, it’s so awful.” What? Who the fuck is this? I raise the phone close to my eyes and squint at the display. Ah. Sally—one of my brides. It’s a good job I’m a wedding planner because that last sentence came across as far too much like Bluebeard for me to be comfortable. “What’s the problem?” I say slowly, feeling like my tongue has been stapled to the inside of a dog’s basket. Fuck those last shots of tequila at the club last night. They’re looking like a very bad idea right now. “It’s the cake.” “The cake?” What possible fucking cake emergency can there be at this time of the night? “It’s the wrong shape.” Ah. That emergency. I rack my brain and memory dawns. “You had the five-tier, espresso-infused butter cake with Kahlua butter cream and chocolate ganache, didn’t you? That was a lovely choice.” “You think so?” she says hesitantly. “Of course,” I say in a confident tone that doesn’t let on that my favourite cake is actually a Mr Kipling’s Country Slice. The prices these people are paying, it wouldn’t go down well. “It’s all wrong,” she says in a tone of doom probably last heard from the person on the Titanic who was tasked with trying to squeeze two thousand people into fourteen lifeboats. I punch my pillows and drag myself up into a sitting position. Spying the Panadol packet on my table put there by Past Foresighted Joe, I poke a couple out of the blister pack and swallow them with a swig of water. Now I’m ready. “Okay, what’s wrong with it?” I say over the sound of her heart-wrenching sobs. I’ve adopted my soothing voice. “Tell me.” “It’s a s-s-square.” Why is this a surprise? “And we don’t want square now?” “No. I read somewhere that it’s bad luck.” Bloody Google. “Well, they got that wrong,” I say smoothly. “Really?” “Absolutely. The symbolism of square cakes goes back to the Middle Ages,” I say, lying out of my arse. “Did they eat cake then?” Yes. And abstained from ringing poor wedding planners at three in the fucking morning. I lie some more. “It was a different sort of cake. Heavier.” Sally clicks her tongue. “Oh, that actually makes sense. So did they eat much square cake in the Middle Ages?” “They did. It was preferred to the mundane round cake. It symbolised joy, affection, and endless mirth.” None of which Mr Sally will be getting. “Why square, though?” “Oh, all those lines,” I say vaguely, hoping like fuck she goes with it. I don’t think I have much more of this in me. “Well, that’s good,” she finally says. I fist-pump. “Unless you’d like to change the shape?” I mutter, crossing my fingers because Babs the cake maker is going to make decorations out of my entrails if I try to change the shape of a cake two days before the wedding. “Oh no, it’s fine.” I sag against my pillow. Thank fuck, I mouth. “So, are you okay now, Sally?” She may be off-the-scale irritating and have had more demands than Ivanka Trump over this wedding, but she’s one of my brides, and their happiness matters to me. “I’m fine.” She sniffs. “Ugh. Oh, Joe, I wish I could marry you. You’re so kind and so bloody lovely.” “Ah well, I don’t think my current husband would appreciate that.” She giggles. “I bet he’s lovely, isn’t he? Someone like you