Page 29 of Best Wrong Thing

“Hi, Mum.”

“I’ve arranged for us to have a new family photo session.”

“Why? It’s not that long since the last one.”

“Silly. We need photos of all four of us.”

Oh, fuck. What has she done?

It’s been three weeks since the wedding reception, and Jacob and I have avoided each other despite Mum and Barry inviting us to various events. A housewarming dinner, the night Mum moved into Barry’s home. A theatre trip. A barbecue. I gave excuses for all of them, as I promised I would. From Mum’s grumblings, so did Jacob. The trouble is, our refusal to be in the same place at the same time has Mum convinced we hate each other, and that doesn’t fit the ‘happy family’ she seems desperate to have.

“When?” I ask.

“This afternoon, at two. After Jacob’s branch closes at twelve and before you’re due at work. We’ll go for an early tea afterwards. No excuses, Archer. You won’t get to know Jacob if you keep avoiding him.”

I already know him. Intimately.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I don’t know what he said to upset you at the wedding reception, but I want you to make up and be friends.”

“When did you plan this?”

She can’t have got another cancellation booking. No one is that lucky.

“Does it matter? I need you to promise you’ll be there.”

Did she book it straight after the wedding reception? It’s a wonder she hasn’t arranged a family holiday yet. Hopefully, she never will.

I sigh. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Wear something nice. You’ll have time to change before you go to work. See you soon.” She ends the call.

I don’t have Jacob’s number, so I can’t text to apologise. He won’t think I’ve got anything to do with Mum’s scheme to turn us into best friends, will he?

The cycling proficiency class I run takes up a large chunk of my morning. I love it. The kids are great, and it’s fun to watch them improve week after week. Althoughnotfun enough to convince me to go into teaching.

I go home, shower, and choose nice clothes I won’t mind staring at when Mum inevitably gives me a photo of the four of us to hang on my wall. This photo shoot is an awful idea. Dinner afterwards is even worse. On the other hand, it’s been three weeks. I might have got over my lust for Jacob. My reaction to him might be more akin to a piece of wilted celery than a firm, ripe aubergine. I can hope.

After putting a change of clothes in my rucksack, I walk into town. I’m the last to arrive at the photography studio. The others are in the waiting room. Mum and Barry are talking and laughing. Jacob has a face like thunder. I never knew thunder could be sexy. But all I can think about is making out in the rain. He’d look gorgeous, dripping wet, with his sky-blue shirt plastered to his chest.

I’m fucked.

He doesn’t look at me.

“I hope you two are going to smile once we’re in the studio,” Mum says.

“I’m sure Jacob will. He knows how much it means to us to have some nice photos of the four of us,” Barry says.

Jacob winces.

“How was work?” I ask him.

“Fine. Busy.”

“I imagine you were run off your feet. I bet a lot of people leave their banking until the weekend.”

“It’s our busiest day. Well, morning.”