I've Got Your Number

Lover? I don't know. I don't know if she loves me. I don't know if I love her. All I can say is, she's the one I think about. All the time. She's the voice I want to hear. She's the face I hope to see.

We're playing Scrabble. It's a nightmare." "Scrabble?" He sounds surprised. "Scrabble's great." "Not when you're playing with a family of geniuses, it's not. They all put words like 'iridiums'. And I put 'pig'.

But sometimes you have to be brave. Sometimes you have to show people what's important in life.

If it's in the bin, it's public property.

I’m blushing at my own stupid, nonsensical, meaningless thought process, which, by the way, nobody knows about except me.

I'll have to admit, he really does have quite a smile.Kind of heart-stopping, especially as it comes out of nowhere. I mean... you know. If your heart was in the kind of place to be stopped.

There are moments in life that the white-chocolate Magnum ice cream was invented for, and this is one of them.

I don't speak Japanese, I don't know anything about Japanese business or Japanese culture. Apart from sushi. But I can't exactly go up to him and say "Sushi!" out of the blue. It would be like going up to a top American businessman and saying, "T-bone steak!

All I can say is, she's the one I think about. All the time. She's the voice I want to hear. She's the face I hope to see. - Sam Roxton

I've never felt so bereft and panicky. What do I do without my phone? How do I function? My hand keeps automatically reaching for my phone in its usual place in my pocket. Every instinct in me wants to text someone, 'OMG, I've lost my phone! ' but how can do that without a bloody phone?

Once you've started cheating, does it really matter what your methods are?

What are they waiting to see?" Sam follows my gaze and I shrug. "Who knows? You could always do a dance, or tell a joke, or... kiss the bride?" "Not the bride," he wraps his arms around me, and gradually pulls me close. Our noses are practically touching. I can see right into his eyes. I can feel the warmth of his skin. "you." Me. "The girl who stole my phone." His lips brush across the corner of my mouth. "The thief." "It was in a bin." "Still stealing." "No it isn't-," I begin. But now his mouth is firmly on mine, and I can't speak at all. And suddenly, life is good.

Whoever it was, whether I knew them or not, if I could help in some way, I would. I mean, if you can help, you have to help. Don't you think? - Poppy Wyatt

Except...I do. Of course I do. Because as his hands gently cup my waist, I don't make a sound. As he swivels me around to face him, I don't make a sound. I don't need to. We're still talking. Every touch he makes, every imprint of his skin is like another word, another thought, a continuation of our conversation. And we're not done yet. Not yet.

Mind your own Brazilian!" The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. Oops. OK. The trick when you've said something embarrassing by mistake is to pretend nothing happened.

He so did not sit down and have a proper talk with her. I know it. He probably sent her a brief text, saying, Over. Sam.

Hi." "Hi." I shrug, as though to say "Whatever." In my peripheral vision I can see Magnus exhale. He looks a teeny bit nervous. "So." "So." I can play this game too. "Poppy." "Poppy. I mean, Magnus." I scowl. He caught me out.

Every instinct in me wants to text someone OMG, I've lost my phone! but how can I do that without a bloody phone?

When you read my texts, you saw a curt, miserable git. And you told me so. Maybe you're right. But you know what I saw when I read yours? - Sam No. And I don't want to know. - Poppy I saw a girl who races to help others but doesn't help herself. And right now you need to help yourself. No one should walk up the aisle feeling inferior or in a different league or trying to be something they're not. - Sam

I can't get over this. Dad isn't Sam's dad? Dad is a friend? How was I supposed to know that? People shouldn't be allowed to sign themselves as Dad unless they are your dad. It should be the law.

And this is the moment where I went wrong. This is the gut-churning, if-only instant. If I could go back in time, that's the moment I would march up to myself and say severely, "Poppy, priorities." But you don't realize, do you? The moment happens, and you make your crucial mistake, and then it's gone and the chance to do anything about it is blown away.

I'm never going to believe a Poirot mystery again. Never. All those witnesses going, "Yes, I remember it was 3:06 p.m. exactly, because I glanced at the clock as I reached for the sugar tongs, and Lady Favisham was quite clearly sitting on the right-hand side of the fireplace." Bollocks. They have no idea where Lady Favisham was, they just don't want to admit it in front of Poirot. I'm amazed he gets anywhere.

It's his mother's birthday? But he didn't tell me. I don't have a card. I don't have a gift. How could he do this to me? Men are crap.

What is love? No one knows what love is, exactly. No one can define it. No one can prove it.

Sam doesn't hesitate for a minute. 'You say, "Mr and Mrs Tavish, you're making me feel inferior. Do you really think I'm inferior or is it just in my mind?

I now know exactly why they started the tradition of being apart the night before your wedding. It's nothing about romance, or sex, or being chaste, or whatever. It's so you don't have a row and stomp up the aisle seething at your bridegroom, planning all the home truths you're going to tell him as soon as you get this wedding bit out of the way.

I'm sitting at the dinner table, wearing my future mother-in-law's underwear. It's like some twisted dream that you wake up and thinkL Crikey Moses! Thank God that didn't really happen!

If I worked at White Globe Consulting, I wouldn't be able to do my job. I would spend all day texting the other people in the office, asking them what was going on today and had they heard anything new and what did they think was going to happen. Hmm. Maybe it's a good thing I'm not in an office job.

Why didn't I buy a new phone earlier? Why don't I always walk around with a spare phone? It should be the law, like having a spare tire.

Every time I mention her, Magnus says, "Are you two getting along?" in raised, hopeful tones, like we're endangered pandas who need to make a baby.