“Shame He’s Not Mine”
“Ladies, come round mine this Saturday for a proper natter and a cuppa—or something stronger,” Dana chirped to her colleagues, Kira and Alina, who grinned and nodded.
“Lovely, I’ll bring a bottle of decent wine,” promised Kira, the resident wine expert.
“I’ll whip up something tasty,” added Alina, renowned among them for her cooking.
“Dana, why your place? Why not a café?” Kira raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, come off it, we’re always in cafés! At home, we can let loose—dance like mad, no one judging. In a café, you’re too busy worrying what the next table thinks.”
“Fair point,” Alina chuckled. “Home it is. Less fuss, more fun.” They all cackled.
The three women, all hovering around forty-something, had been thick as thieves since their office days. United by more than just work, they shared another bond—all single. Dana had divorced a decade back. Kira, never married, had a grown daughter living her own life. Alina, the quiet one, had been left with a three-year-old when her husband walked out.
Dana had nearly remarried once, but her chap ran off to Germany with another woman on a five-year contract, no explanation. “Good riddance,” she’d shrugged, though it stung.
Kira, the glamorous one, cycled through men like fashion trends but never settled. She lived alone near the office, the only one of them who drove.
Alina? Not conventionally pretty, but there was something about her—though Dana and Kira privately thought her a bit of a “wallflower.”
Friday rolled around. “Remember—Saturday’s still on,” Dana reminded them as they clocked out.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Kira sang. Alina stayed silent.
By Saturday, Dana had tidied, shopped at the Tesco down the road, and laid out her favourite chocolate digestives. Kira and Alina arrived together, piling into the lounge where wine flowed and laughter bubbled—though Alina barely touched her glass.
“What’s with you?” Kira squinted. “Not drinking?”
“Sorry, girls,” Alina winced. “I’ve got a date later. With Greg.”
“Greg?!” they yelped in unison.
“Yes, Greg. Problem?”
“You never mentioned him!” Dana gaped.
“Didn’t know it’d go anywhere. He rang last night, asked me out.”
“Then why come?” Kira frowned.
“I told him about tonight. Wanted you to meet him… Dana, love, I gave him your address. He’s picking me up here.”
Dana choked on a biscuit. “Brilliant! Let’s vet this mysterious Greg.”
As Alina curled her hair with Dana’s straighteners (“Forgot my hairspray!”), Dana and Kira exchanged glances. Greg wouldn’t last. Alina’s flings never did—always some bloke who’d vanish after a fortnight.
“How’s my hair?” Alina fretted.
“Fine,” they droned. “Why the fuss? Can’t be that fit,” Kira sniffed.
The doorbell rang. Dana leapt up, giggling. “Let’s see this Adonis.”
Greg stood there, arms full of flowers—three bouquets. The women gawped.
Fiftyish, tall, dark-haired with silver streaks, and unfairly handsome, he smiled. “Ready?” he asked Alina, then handed flowers to each of them.
Kira elbowed Dana aside. “Join us! We’ve got wine.”
“Another time,” he declined politely. Dana shot Kira a look: *Stop clambering over me!*
“Greg, want a juice?” Dana thrust a glass at him. He sipped, then whisked Alina away, leaving them stunned.
Kira recovered first. “No way a bloke like that’s serious about Alina. He’ll bolt after a shag. Watch.”
Dana sighed. “God, he’s perfect. Where’d she find him?”
“Nowhere special. It’ll fizzle.”
“Poor Alina.”
“Don’t waste pity! She’s out with *Greg*, and we’re here swigging plonk. Cheers to us.”
For months, Alina floated into work glowing. “Greg drove me!” she’d beam, regaling them with tales of galleries, cosy pubs, and meeting his friends (“All lovely—though two are married”).
Dana and Kira waited for the inevitable breakup. It never came.
Then, one evening, Dana bumped into Greg outside Waitrose.
“Evening! You look smashing,” he said.
“Ta. You?”
“Just left the office. Actually—fancy a quick detour?” He nodded at a jeweller’s.
Inside, he hovered by the rings. “Can’t decide. What do you think of this emerald one?”
“Gorgeous,” she stammered, heart racing. *Is this for me?*
“Really? Maybe something simpler?”
“No, it’s stunning!”
“Perfect.” He bought it. Dana’s mind spun. *A surprise proposal!* She vowed to keep mum, already picturing her friends’ jealousy.
That Friday, Alina announced: “Greg’s taking us all to dinner. Says he’s got a surprise.”
Dana barely functioned all day. *He’ll propose to me in front of them!*
At the restaurant, Greg arrived—suited, flowers in hand. Three pairs of eyes locked onto him.
He smiled. “Alina, love, your girls mean the world to you. So…” He dropped to one knee. “Marry me?”
Alina shrieked, flinging herself at him. “Yes!”
“Like the ring?”
“It’s perfect!”
“Credit to Dana—she helped pick it.” He winked at her.
“…Pleasure,” Dana croaked. Inside, she wilted. *Shame he’s not mine.*
Kira elbowed her. “Told you it wouldn’t last.”
Dana sighed. “Yeah. Just… not how we thought.”
