You Can't Hurry Love

Chapter Thirty-Two

DECEMBER 15th

Monday morning. To some people, it's their worst day of the week. Well, not for me and especially not today because this morning I have woken up with a brand-new attitude. No more guilt, no more sadness and absolutely no more pining over inconsequential Italian men.

I am Dorothy Delilah Owens for pete's sake, I don't cry over men. Yet these last few weeks I have been nothing more than a walking talking sob-fest.

Well, not anymore. I am a strong independent woman. I'm living in London. I'm paving a career in something that I love. Hell, I'm even dating again and yes you may scoff at my use of the term. I'm well aware that they were both complete disasters, but you know what? They happened, I learned from them and that is all that matters.

I'm done moping around and after a serious telling off to myself last night I decided enough was enough, it was time to do things differently. After a grilling from the boys about my sudden newfound friendship with the 'weirdo' from across the hall, I took myself off to my room, grabbed a pen and paper, and concocted a list of five things I needed to do to change my life for the better.

What are those five things you might ask? Well, let me tell you.

Step One = Delete tinder. I know you probably think that I'm giving up far too easily but the thing is, I'm already over it. I got coerced into joining it in the first place and it's just not working out for me. Besides the point that I've been getting next to no new matches on the thing (my ego has taken a serious dip, let me tell you), I'm a romantic. I always have been and I always will be and this little setback has shown me not to give up on finding 'the one' on my terms.

Step Two = Write a fantastic article. No more getting sidetracked!

Step Three = Spend more time with Roland. Now, I know this one may come as a bit of a surprise to you and in all honesty, it's completely blown my mind too, but after spending the evening in his company, I am shocked to say that we really got on. It turns out he's actually a nice old man who just happens to be incredibly lonely and it breaks my heart to think of the way I've been treating him since I moved in; scarpering past him whenever he wanted to say a quick hello. He admitted to me that he doesn't get to talk to people much since his wife passed away and I made a promise to myself that I was going to go out of my way to make amends, and I know just how to do it.

Step Four = Find a date for the Christmas party. Look, I'm not saying miracles exist, but greater things have happened and I do still have ten days to find someone. I want so desperately to rub that smug smile off of Lauren's face that I'll take pretty much anyone at this point.

And finally, the most important one of all.

Step Five = Forget Lincoln Rossi ever bloody existed. That one's pretty self-explanatory, I think.

'What've you got there?'

I tear my eyes away from the list to find Ben attempting to wrestle his head through the neck of his new jumper, which definitely looked to be a couple sizes too small for him. (Not that I was going to tell him that though.)

'It's nothing important.' I pocket it quickly and smile at him when he finally emerges. 'You're up early, aren't you? Is there a sale at Selfridges I didn't hear about?'

'Very funny! It's Panto week,' he gasps, his face red from the over-exertion. 'Don't say you've forgotten!'

'Of course I haven't. It just slipped my mind for a second. That's come around fast, hasn't it? You looking forward to it?'

'Am I looking forward to flashing the audience my gigantic pair of bloomers every evening this week? Not really, no. Am I looking forward to stealing the show and getting accosted after it by an award-winning theatre director? Absolutely! I can feel it, Dot, it's in the air,' he says, his face flush with excitement as he does a little dance.