Nothing New for Sophie Drew: a heart-warming romantic comedy by Katey Lovell (best autobiographies to read .txt) 📕

“Hundreds.” She grinned, and the way her eyes twinkled reminded me of Max. They were more tired, admittedly, more world-weary and the faded blue of washed-out denim rather than the misty shade of Max’s, but the shape was identical, the glimmer in them as warm. “Thank you for the encouragement.”

“I wanted to pay it forward. It was Max who made me believe people might actually want to buy some of the things I make.”

She reached over and placed a hand on my knee. It was familiar but not necessarily uncomfortable. “He’s really taken with you. We knew it was serious when he said he was bringing you here – it’s a long time since he brought a girl home. After what happened with Gina–”

We were interrupted by Max’s dad, shuffling towards us aided by a black curved-handled walking stick. “Andrea, have you seen that large bowl my mother gave us? I thought it would be perfect for the pasta salad.”

It suddenly clicked why Mrs Oakley looked so familiar – she’d been the lady at the car boot sale, the one who’d given Eve the bowl.

“I think it got smashed,” she replied, a sad smile on her face. “Bunty knocked it off the draining board last time we used it,” she added, very believably. “You know how clumsy that precious cat of yours is.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s a shame.” Max’s dad rubbed his hand over his beard.

“I bought a new large bowl though, if you look in the cupboard with the Pyrex,” she said, all wide-eyed innocence.

“I’ll use that then,” he said, before heading towards the house. On his way he made a fuss of the tortoiseshell cat who was perched on a chair, stroking its head affectionately.

“I knew he’d not hold a grudge if he thought it was the cat,” she said mischievously. “He thinks the world of her.”

“Did you remember it was my friend who had the bowl at the boot sale? I thought I recognised you from somewhere, but couldn’t think where.”

“Of course I remembered you.” She scoffed. “I recognised you the minute I saw you. Faces have always been my strong point. Never forget one.”

She pushed herself up from the seat. “Come on. Let me introduce you to everyone else. Do you play cards?”

“Only snap.” I shrugged. “And pontoon. That’s about my limit.”

“We’ll have to teach you then, won’t we? If you’re going to be a regular guest, learning cards is a must. Whist, gin rummy, that kind of thing. Nothing tricky.”

I glanced across to Max, who was playing croquet. His mallet-wielding wasn’t going well if the groans he was making and Dylan’s hysterical laughter was anything to go by. I liked the thought that I might be a regular guest, that this family had made me so welcome so quickly.

“I’ll give it a whirl,” I smiled, pushing myself up from the seat, “although I can’t promise I’ll be any good.”

“If it’s not going well, you can always cheat,” she said with a wink.

I pretended to be shocked, but after how coolly she’d told the story about the bowl, I wasn’t. I wasn’t shocked at all.

By the time Max drove me back home it was late, the evening summer skies an inky blue wash over our heads.

“I hope you didn’t find that too painful. And sorry for leaving you with Mum pretty much as soon as we got there. I know she can be overbearing at times. It comes from a good place though, she’s only like it because she can’t bear the thought that anyone might hurt her little boys.”

“I like her,” I said, because I did. Andrea Oakley had been the perfect hostess, ensuring I was comfortable, always had a topped-up glass and explaining the little in-jokes so I didn’t have to plaster on a smile and pretend to understand what was so funny.

“She said it’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone back.” I kept my voice nonchalant, although I was fishing for information.

“It has.”

His voice was clipped, but I kept pushing. “She mentioned an ex of yours. Gina?”

Max groaned uncomfortably. “Trust Mum to bring that up.”

“Messy break-up?”

“I don’t like talking about it, but I suppose I know about your significant ex so I’ll tell you about mine. I met Gina through a friend – Iain, actually. He’d met her through Tinder and nothing had come of it, but he thought we’d get along, so we had a blind date.” Max paused momentarily, looking at me to gauge my reaction. “We really clicked and things were going great, we were together for eight months. We’d spoken about moving in together, even went to look at a few places. But then she disappeared.”

I gasped. “What do you mean? Is she still missing?”

He let out a half laugh. “She was never missing, Sophie. It wasn’t like she’d been kidnapped. She ghosted me.”

I looked blank. “I don’t know what that means.”

“She stopped answering my texts, she wouldn’t answer the door when I went to her house even though I knew she was in because I could hear the telly and she lived alone… basically she might as well have been a ghost because it felt like I’d imagined the whole thing. I thought I was going crazy.”

“So what happened?”

“In the end one of her friends sent me a message telling me to leave Gina alone, saying I should have taken the hint. I probably should have, to be fair, but what kind of adult just breaks all contact rather than having the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ conversation?”

“That’s terrible.”

“It was. It made me really wary of getting into another relationship, and it wasn’t until I met you that I felt it was worth taking the risk of going through that heartache again.”

“So that’s why you said you weren’t confident.” I remembered the first night in the pub, where he’d said things weren’t always what they seemed. He might have had women interested in him, but he’d never acted on it because of his