# Chapter 11: A Marriage Under Pressure — Wined, Dined, and Divided
Hello everyone, it's me again! How are you all doing? I hope you're ready for another rollercoaster of emotions, because Chapter 11 of *Married at First Swipe* serves up a little bit of everything: love, frustration, jealousy, friendship, and two people desperately trying to stay afloat in a world that never seems to slow down. We're going to climb inside the heart and mind of Jess, watch sparks fly between her and Tom, and then get swept away into the beautifully uncertain world of Hannah and Toby as they prepare to marry complete strangers. So grab a cup of tea, settle into your favourite spot, and let's dive in!
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It was late, and Jess was sitting up in bed with her laptop balanced on her knees, a small, hopeful smile tugging at her lips. She had just finished preparing Hannah and Toby's latest blog posts, getting them ready to go live the next day. Every time a letter arrived from either of them, Jess felt her confidence grow. These two were perfect for each other — she could feel it in her bones.
"I can't wait for them to meet," she said to Tom, sighing happily as she closed down the Save The Date website and opened her email. "And the app is doing all right, too. We'd be getting so much more coverage if only they were available for interviews."
But Tom, ever the voice of reason, pointed out the flaw in that plan. If Hannah and Toby met before the wedding, or even saw each other on television, the whole concept of a blind-date marriage would fall apart. Jess knew this, of course. She wasn't planning to reveal them before the big day. But after the wedding and honeymoon? Oh, that was a different story. She wanted to keep the local press onside, get the story picked up by bigger outlets, and save the business once and for all.
"Haven't subscription numbers rocketed already, though? Do you really need to do all that promo afterwards?" Tom asked, looking up from his book.
"We're well on our way to hitting our target membership numbers, but the business could still go under at any point," Jess replied, the weight of financial worry pressing on her shoulders. She hadn't told Hannah just how close they'd been to folding. But every opportunity mattered now. Every single one.
Tom laughed at something she said — something about "talking the talk" — and Jess felt her hackles rise. Before she could stop herself, bitter words came pouring out. She accused him of not understanding ambition, of not wanting a better life, of not contributing enough. It was the kind of fight that had been simmering under the surface for months, and now it was boiling over in the worst possible place: their bedroom.
Tom pushed back. "So it's my fault that you have to sell your best friend to the press, is that it? Not that you've told her how much you plan to use her, I bet."
The words hung in the air like smoke, sharp and suffocating.
Jess knew, deep down, that she should pull back. That quiet voice in her head warned her to walk away, to take a breath, to let the storm pass. But she couldn't. The fireball of anxiety in her stomach needed an outlet. She snapped again, calling his income "pocket money" and insisting that Save The Date had to succeed so they could give their kids what they needed.
That was when Tom lowered his voice and delivered the blow that hit hardest of all. "Even when you're here, you're not here. You're glued to your laptop or tapping away on your phone. Can you even remember when we last had sex? I can. It was six months ago."
Jess recoiled as though she'd been slapped. And then came the moment of no return: Tom said she seemed more interested in *exploiting her best friend* for the sake of a dating app than in her own marriage and family.
"Are you saying I'm a bad mother, Tom?" she asked slowly, her voice dangerously calm.
"Of course not!" He softened, but the damage had been done. "I know you love the twins and you're a great mum; I'm just saying that sometimes you could be more present, that's all."
But Jess couldn't hear his explanations anymore. She was too busy defending herself, too angry, too hurt. Tom finally gave up, telling her he was going to sleep in the spare room because he couldn't talk to her when she was like this. Jess parroted his words right back at him, turned away, and let the tears fall only after she heard his footsteps crossing the landing.
Alone in the dark, she pressed her face into her pillow and sobbed. Tom had no idea, *no idea*, how hard she was trying to keep everything together. She was juggling dirty school uniforms, grocery lists, reading practice, maths homework, after-school clubs, and the endless demands of running a business. She had to remember the birthday parties and the costume days and the "too mushy" bananas. She was expected to be the one who remembered everything, did everything, and somehow smiled through it all.
It was exhausting. It was unfair. And sometimes, in her darkest moments, she fantasised about running away to a five-star resort in Barbados, where hot waiters would bring her food and drinks while she read the book that had been sitting beside her bed for six months. She would never actually do it, of course. But oh, how wonderful it sounded.
She barely slept that night. When she finally gave up and crept downstairs in her oversized sweatshirt, she found Tom waiting for her in the kitchen.
"I hate arguing, Jess, especially with you," he said, his voice cracking. "You're a brilliant mum and I'm in awe of everything you're doing with Save The Date. But I worry you're trying to do too much."
They talked, although it wasn't easy. Jess admitted that she shouldn't have said the things she did, but she also asked Tom — really asked him — to help more with the kids and around the house. He promised to do his share, and she promised to try to be more present. To her relief, he made her smile again, and they fell into a familiar hug — a "tommug," as they'd always called it.
For a few beautiful minutes, she breathed in his familiar, safe scent and felt the fizz of something she hadn't felt in a long time awaken in her stomach. But then their sleepy daughter appeared in the doorway asking for Rice Krispies, and the moment scattered like confetti in the wind.
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Weeks passed, and the fragile truce between Jess and Tom held. Tom had thrown himself into making tea for the twins after their after-school activities, giving Jess precious extra hours to handle the ever-growing Save The Date inbox. One evening, she bounced into the kitchen with a huge smile on her face, kissed her children on their heads, and planted a kiss square on Tom's lips.
"What was that in aid of?" he asked, grinning.
"How do you fancy dinner *à deux* tomorrow evening, Mr T?"
It turned out Hannah had offered to babysit, as a thank-you for finding her a husband. Tom was delighted, and soon they were planning a proper grown-up night out: dinner at Rio's, perhaps even a drink at the pub beforehand. Jess felt like a teenager again, counting down the hours.
When the evening finally arrived, Jess and Hannah opened a bottle of rosé at the house. Hannah was in high spirits, bubbling with excitement about all the freebies flooding in for the wedding. Flowers, shoes, cake, cheese, wedding favours, table decorations, even a photo booth — brands were practically throwing themselves at the Save The Date couple, and all they wanted in return was a social media mention.
"Has anyone ever told you how ludicrous you are?" Jess laughed, handing her friend a glass of pink liquid.
"You have. Often," Hannah replied, clinking her glass against Jess's.
The kids were happily eating sausages and vegetables in front of the iPad — a parenting choice Tom defended with a sheepish "it is Friday night, after all" — and soon Jess was showering, getting ready, and spritzing herself with the one expensive perfume she owned. She'd been saving it for two years, and she wondered if it smelled a little musty. But she couldn't quite remember. Such is life when you save your best things for "someday."
By the time they made it to the pub and then to Rio's, Jess was decidedly tipsy. She bagged the carbonara — because, as she insisted, couples ordering the same thing was a waste — and they toasted their children, their mortgage, and their chaotic, self-employed lives.
"We've got two smart, funny children, several hundred thousand pounds of debt and all the worry that goes with owning a business — what's not to love!" Jess laughed.
"Cheers to that!" Tom smiled.
But the warmth didn't last. As Jess raved about the incredible freebies rolling in for the wedding, Tom grew quieter. When she talked about the balloon arch and the colour scheme — pale pink and baby blue, perhaps — he frowned.
"Won't that look like a baby shower?" he asked. Then, more pointedly: "Shouldn't it be Hannah deciding the colour scheme — it's her wedding, after all?"
Jess, distracted by her phone and her plans, missed the warning signs in his voice. She tried to steer the conversation back to a Boston commission Tom had mentioned, but he wasn't letting her off the hook that easily.
"God, it really is all about money with you, Jess, isn't it? Between that and the wedding, there's no room for me or the kids. It's like you're trying to live through Hannah and make sure she has the perfect wedding because you didn't get the chance to do that for your own big day."
The accusation hit like a thunderbolt. Jess denied it, but Tom pressed on, saying that for him, their wedding had always been about the vows, not the flowers or the cake. He reminded her that she had been enough for him, and suggested that his mother had been trying to help, not interfere.
Jess felt utterly misunderstood. She tried to explain that she simply wanted what was best for Hannah, that any woman dreamed of the perfect wedding day. But Tom had already delivered his final, quiet verdict:
"No, you don't. You just want what's best for your company."
Jess opened her mouth, then closed it again. She twirled a forkful of cold, gluey carbonara and swallowed her tears along with the lumps of pasta. She blinked hard and stared at her plate, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.
The ride home was silent. Tom glanced at her as if he wanted to apologise, but Jess kept her eyes fixed out the window. She could read his thoughts without him saying a word, but she wasn't ready to let him in. Not yet.
When they arrived home, Hannah was waiting, bright-eyed and cheerful. The twins had been good as gold, she reported, and she'd even taught them the Macarena. Tom thanked her and headed upstairs to check on the kids, giving Jess and Hannah time alone.
"So, is Tom okay?" Hannah asked as they made their way into the lounge.
"Yeah, he's just a bit tired." Jess forced a smile and poured herself a generous glass of Shiraz.
Hannah, full of romantic optimism, reminded Jess how lucky she was. Ten years of marriage next year, twenty years together since they were teenagers. She sighed dreamily, telling Jess that she and Tom knew each other inside and out, that there were no terrible surprises waiting around the corner. After all, Hannah herself was about to marry someone she had never even met.
But Jess, still stinging from the restaurant argument, let a little too much truth slip out.
"It's not all rose petals on the bed, Han. When you've done it all — marriage, kids, jobs, house — it can all be a bit, well, boring."
Hannah brushed it off. "Ah, J, that's the wine talking! You and Tom are #couplegoals and I won't hear anything to the contrary. Especially when I'm about to embark on my own romantic adventure, I need to know that happily ever afters can come true."
Jess looked at her friend's hopeful face and softened. She reassured her that yes, she would get her happy ending with Toby. He was a good sort, as excited for this adventure as Hannah was. And with that, the storm inside Jess calmed a little. At least she could give her best friend that much.
Hannah grinned, and the conversation turned lighter. "I can't believe it will be your tenth wedding anniversary and your twentieth anniversary of being together next year," she said dreamily.
"Don't listen to me going on," Jess said. "You and Toby will have your happy ending. And before that, we have your hen night next weekend — and boy am I looking forward to that!"
"So am I, I think!" Hannah laughed. "And at least I know there's one hen party game we won't be playing."
"What's that?"
"Mr and Mrs — you're hardly going to ask poor Toby what my favourite sex position is when the most he knows about me is that I like chip shop sausages!"
Jess burst into laughter, and for a moment, the night didn't feel so heavy after all.
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The chapter closes with the latest letters from the happy couple, published on the Save The Date website for the world to see. With the wedding just weeks away, both Hannah and Toby are emerging from the shadows, each answering the same fiendish questions with wit and heart.
Toby, it turns out, got drunk at his stag do in Scotland — not Prague like most lads his age, but Perth, complete with a mini Highland Games course, whisky tasting, and a whole host of family and friends determined to beat him at tossing the caber and hurling the haggis. When asked the most awkward question anyone's ever posed, he cheekily answered, "This one!" But he also shared something tender: he told his mates that whatever happens at the end of his wedding day is between him and Hannah, and that it's just another thing for them to figure out together.
As for what he's most looking forward to about married life? He wrote that he's excited to learn a little more about Hannah every day. "You sound like one of the most interesting people I've never met," he confessed, "and I can't wait to find out not only who you are, but what actually makes you who you are."
Hannah, meanwhile, had her hen do in the beautiful Lake District, organized by her absolute best friend — the one who refused to put on a harness and go climbing underground but made sure everyone else had the time of their lives. Her mum secretly picked up the tab, and Hannah spent a weekend filled with wine, walks, and wonderful women who constantly inspired her. Her most awkward question? The time a lovely old lady gave up her seat on the bus because she thought Hannah was pregnant — when in reality, it was just a food baby after a large bowl of pasta.
And what is Hannah most looking forward to about married life? Having the kind of relationship her best friend has with her husband — one built on love, respect, and supporting each other through everything. Plus, of course, another excuse to go to the chippy for sausage and chips all the time.
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**Reader's Impressions & Star Rating**
Oh, this chapter was emotionally rich! As a reader, my heart ached for Jess. She's trying to hold everything together, but Tom's accusations ring with truth even when they're wrapped in frustration. Watching them argue in bed, reconcile at dawn, and then unravel again over dinner felt painfully real. The Save The Date blog letters were a wonderful breath of freshness, giving us more insight into Toby and Hannah's hopes and anxieties. I found myself rooting for them all, even while worrying about the cracks appearing in Jess and Tom's marriage. This chapter didn't shy away from the messy, complicated truths of long-term love and ambition.
**Star Rating:** ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.8 / 5 Stars
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**Next Chapter Prediction**
With the hen night and stag do behind them and the wedding drawing ever closer, the next chapter is bound to be a whirlwind of final preparations, last-minute nerves, and dangerous secrets. I predict that Jess's desperation for press coverage — and her need to keep Save The Date afloat — is going to collide head-on with Hannah's naive trust. Will Tom's warning come true? Will Hannah discover that her best friend has been quietly treating her as a business opportunity? And more importantly, will Toby turn out to be everything Hannah has dreamed of, or will the pressure of meeting a stranger at the altar prove too much? With just a few weeks to go, the calm before the storm is about to break...
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