Page 42 of The Wedding Forecast

‘Of course she did,’ I say.

‘Did she give you a friends and family discount, at least?’ Hayley asks.

‘I think she charged full price. Thirty-five dollars?’

Hayley and I exchange a look. That’s two dollars above the retail price, so she’s officially ripping him off. That’s the price Mum charges when she doesn’t like someone. She buys all her copies of my book full-price from Bobbi’s shop, because she doesn’t want to undermine Bobbi’s business and she wants her sales to be counted as bookshop sales, so they’ll increase my chances of becoming a bestseller. Thirty dollars is her ‘I like you’ resale price, and twenty-five for friends and family, and then just twenty for a man she wants to set me up with. It’s a very bad sign for Mac.

‘You didn’t need to buy my book,’ I say, feeling slightly unhinged. Did he feel obliged? Did he buy it before or after the kissing? Maybe he thought it was a way to secure sex later tonight.

My sales aren’t so low that I can be wooed into bed by a book purchase. He’d need to buy at least five copies for that to work.

‘I don’t have a signing pen, sorry,’ I say, which is a lie. I have three good pens in my bag at all times, I just can’t face the pressure of signing his copy.

‘I have a pen in my bag,’ he says.

‘So do I, in my room somewhere,’ Hayley says.

I don’t want one of their ugly, cheap, probably blue-ink pens.

‘Actually, I think I do have a pen somewhere,’ I say, rummaging in my bag, pretending to be unsure if there is a pen there. This is why I hate lying. One little lie and then you have to do a whole performance.

I hold the pen over the title page.

‘Just signed, or personalised, or personalised with a message?’ I say. I am hot and flustered.

Hayley is looking at me strangely.

‘With a message,’ she and Mac say at the same time.

I have a little phrase I write in everyone’s books ‘Enjoy the walk!’ which is not especially clever or cute, in fact it’s quite awful, but it’s better than just ‘Enjoy!’ or ‘Thank you for reading!’ which are the only words that come into my head at these moments. Also at my launch I had a skull stamp I would use alongside the message, which changed the cheesy tone to something darker and more ironic.

Can I just give him that generic message? No. No. This man put his mouth on my body a mere thirty minutes ago.

‘Use his full name,’ Hayley says.

I look at Mac.

‘What’s your full name?’

‘Just Mac is fine.’

‘It’s Cormac,’ Hayley says, grinning.

‘Oh, I like that,’ I say.

To Cormac, I write. My hand is wobbly.

Thank you, I write. Fuck. Thank you? Thank you for what? If I don’t finish that sentence, he will definitely think the wrong things.

Thank you for buying my book, I write.

I hope you like it.

It’s been fun hanging out.

Every sentence is worse than the one before.

I sign my name, and then add two small hearts in a panic. Why? I can feel sweat on my back. Should I draw a little picture as well? Something to detract from the hearts? Should I attempt to draw a skull? No. Stop.