You know my feelings for Luke in formal clothes, but my fuck, the sight of him in a pair of old jeans and a tight T-shirt is bad for my nerves. Not that I’m interested, of course, because I’m marrying Jonathan in eight weeks’ time.
I wish Jonathan were here, instead of in Manhattan on a business trip. It’s just lust transference, that’s all.
“We’re all set,” Colin tells us all in his deadpan voice as he, Charlie and Lewis reappear from the basement. “Thanks so much for your help.”
“No problem, old man.” Charlie slaps him on the back.
“I think this calls for some liquid refreshment,” Lewis says, rubbing his hands together.
“What do you say, lads?” Charlie grins. “We can’t abandon Colin in his time of need, and if he’s going to live here, we should at least help him out by familiarizing him with the local watering holes.”
“I’m up for it,” Luke nods his head.
“Darling, we’ve had this conversation before,” Charlie teases him and winks at me. “We know you’re up for it.”
“I’m not a big drinker,” Colin, unsurprisingly, protests, as my head begins to ache.
“Come on Col, live a little,” Lewis tells him.
“But—”
“No buts.” Luke holds up his hand, and my heart thuds in my ears as I remember the time he said the same thing to me. And being lifted into his arms and whisked away to Piccadilly Circus shortly afterwards.
I really must stop doing this.
You see, instead of daydreams where Luke rescues me and we drive off into the sunset, or nightmares involving hot coals and roasting, I have now begun to relive every second that I spent with him. Including the sex. This is not good, but I think it is just a sign of bridal nerves.
See, after I marry Jonathan, he’ll be the only man I ever have sex with again. I mean, that’s a pretty daunting thought, isn’t it?
“I suppose I could manage a pint or two, then,” Colin monotones.
“How about you, Rosie?” Luke is so tempting. So tempting…
Instantly, my fertile imagination conjures up an image of Luke in his white doctor’s coat, with a stethoscope around his neck, which is odd, because I’ve never seen him in his doctoring environment. He is naked beneath it. Oh my.
“Tempting, but no.” I must not weaken. “I have wedding plans to plan.”
“Luke’s already here,” Elaine tells me as she opens the front door of her Hampstead house.
Oh, good. Another chance for an awkward silence and erotic conjuring, I think sarcastically.
Elaine moved back to her own house with Nurse Hodges and Baby Becky not long after the christening. She said it was because she wanted her life back, because Auntie Pat fusses too much, but I suspect it was because she wanted her privacy back so she could have sex with Luke.
I must stop doing this. I must not think of the words sex and Luke together.
“You know,” Elaine says under her breath as she links arms with me. “I think he’s going to pop the question any day, now. Oh, I’m so happy. He’s perfect, don’t you think?”
“Um, well—”
“Of course, I’m asking the wrong woman,” she trills. “Obviously not for you, because you’re so in love with Jonathan.”
“Yes.” I nod. Because it’s true. I really love Jonathan, whom I am marrying in two weeks’ time, because he is comfy, just like a pair of old shoes. With patience and perseverance, he’s molded to my metaphorical feet into a perfect fit.
So it’s a shame, really, that the shoes he brought me back from his Manhattan trip are too small. Jimmy Choo again. This time, ivory, to go with my wedding dress. An extravagant gesture for our low-key, cut-price wedding, but he wanted me to have something special, which is sweet, isn’t it?
Obviously, this has involved me ordering my true size at the website, and I’m just hoping they arrive before my special day does.
“Well, I don’t think it will be too long before we follow you down the aisle. Of course, we have to wait for his divorce to come through. Actually, Rowan organized the fund-raiser we’re attending tonight. It’s so civilized to be on speaking terms with one’s near ex, don’t you think? Of course, I shall have to put a stop to all that after the wedding. I was thinking an autumn wedding next year. That will give Mummy plenty of time to plan it.”
“Lovely,” I smile, but my facial muscles feel strained.
“Anyway, mum’s the word,” Elaine tells me under her breath as we enter her living room. “Look who’s here, darling,” she trills to Luke. “Our lovely bride-to-be.”
“Great to see you, Rosie.”
“You too,” I lie, because it’s not, because he’s wearing formal clothes again and I’m already hot under my red angora sweater. Instantly, my fertile imagination conjures up an image of Luke, in a dinner jacket and bow tie. Underneath, he’s naked…
“How are the wedding plans?”
“Oh, darling, Jonathan did the most romantic thing,” Elaine trills. “He bought Jimmy Choo wedding shoes for Rosie. Don’t you think that was thoughtful?”
“Very,” Luke smirks, which I think is a bit unkind.
“I’ll just get my coat,” Elaine says, “and then we’ll be off. Baby Becky should sleep through until eleven. Nurse Hodges fed her about half an hour ago, before she went off duty.”
“Do they fit?” Luke asks as soon as Elaine leaves in search of her coat.
“Of course,” I lie.
“I’m sorry. That was a bit unkind of me,” he surprises me by adding. “Well, then. I wish you all the happiness in the world. Rosie?”
“Yes?” I look up into his face. My throat aches with suppressed tears.
“I—” He takes a deep breath. “I always meant to, you know, clear up that time we—”
My nerves jump to attention. Danger looming, that little voice in my brain screams at me.
“Ready, darling?” Elaine singsongs from the door, ruining the moment, which is a relief.
“Absolutely. Goodnight.”
And then they’re gone.
20
Bride-to-Be
Rosie’s Confession:
You know, I heard somewhere that single women live longer than married women…
So it makes perfect sense for a bride to have second thoughts on her wedding day…doesn’t it?
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Granny Elsie asks me.
Which is an odd thing for her to be asking me as I’m putting on my wedding dress on my wedding day, isn’t it? Of course I’m not having second thoughts. I’m just distracted, a bit, about something I discovered yesterday….
“Of course,” I tell her, smiling radiantly as I loop great-grandmother Mayford’s pearl earrings into my ears.
Something old…
At least, I think my smile is radiant. It’s just bridal nerves. “Why do you keep asking?”
“Oh, Jonathan’s a nice bloke and everything. I just worry a bit that he’s not excitin’ enough for you.”
“Gran, he’s my perfect pair of comfy, old, worn-in shoes,” I say as I slide the lace garter onto my leg.
Something new…
I’m confused, you see, and am trying to think it through. Yesterday yielded rather a large surprise. I received a bill from Mum’s therapist, Dr. Miller. It was for several hundred pounds, and when I called his office, the clerk told me that yes, it was correct. But when I asked her to check, an older woman came on the line and told me that it was all a huge mistake, and it had been explained to the new clerk that Dr. Benton was taking care of it, and sorry to worry me…
Luke, it seems, has been paying for Mum’s therapy.
“Yes, but comfy old shoes don’t mean boring old shoes,” Granny Elsie adds, and this is not helpful. “I mean, my shoes are old shoes,” she says, looking down at her green kitten mules with yellow bows.
You need sunglasses to look at them, but she has a point—they’re certainly not boring. Oh, I’m already a bag of wo
rry. I know it’s supposed to be the happiest day of my life, but do you know how much stress it is?
“Now that Luke, there’s an excitin’ man,” she cackles.
“He’s Elaine’s boyfriend,” I tell her, exasperated. “They’re practically engaged.”
“But they ain’t engaged yet. It’s not too late to, you know, change yer mind.” This is the same theory she’s been expounding ever since Luke became the apple of her eye.
But how kind, yet strange, to pay for Mum’s therapy. I shall have to speak to him about it. I’m not sure what to say, but I definitely have to pay back every penny…
Oh, what does it all mean?
“I’ve been on this planet for nearly eighty-seven years and I know what it means when a man looks at a woman in a certain way,” Gran says, her lilac head bobbing. “Let’s just say that he don’t look at Elaine that way.”
“How about a nice glass of sherry?” I ask, changing the subject as I fasten Mum’s pearls around my neck.
Something borrowed…
“You don’t look at Jonathan in that certain way, either,” she adds, and I try again.
“Please, Gran, let it be,” I plead.
“Alrighty then,” she nods. “Just remember, when Philip says that bit about if anyone knowing why you and Jonathan shouldn’t be joined, it’s still not too late to change your mind.”
“Gran.” My voice is all strangled mouse.
“I’m not sayin’ another word on the subject. I’ll go and get that sherry, shall I?”
“Who needs sherry when we have champagne?” Carmen puts her head around my bedroom door. “Tada! Your bridesmaids have entered the building,” she announces rather dramatically, as she and Jess come into my bedroom. “Thank fuck you didn’t make us wear something ugly,” she says, twirling in the champagne dresses she and Jess chose. “God, you look amazing. I thought we were supposed to put the dress on you, but I forget, sometimes, just how practical and organized you are,” she scolds me, but she’s smiling.
“Happy wedding day.” Jess brandishes the champagne flutes, and they clink dangerously as she puts them down on my dressing table. “Oh, you’re exquisite, exquisite. I can’t wait for my turn.” She clasps her hands together, and I smile, because she’s so infectious.
She popped the question to Philip. He was astonished, but he did say yes. Well, she’d be waiting forever if she left it to him. She even bought him a ring.
“I’ll leave you girls to it.” Gran wobbles toward the door, resplendent in bright green and yellow polyester. “I’ll keep yer mum busy, and give her plenty to fuss about without comin’ anywhere near you,” she winks.
“Right, here we go.” Carmen winces as the cork pops out and the bubbles pour over the neck of the bottle. “Not that I make a point of making emotional, mushy speeches,” she laughs as she fills the glasses and hands one to each of us. “But let me just say, as one of your oldest friends, that I hope you’ll be as happy with Jonathan as I am with Paul.”
And at that moment, the lump in my throat gets even bigger as emotion tears build behind my eyes. I really love these girls. Am I doing the right thing?
“Just remember to smash a few plates, occasionally, to liven things up,” Carmen says with a cheeky grin, lightening the mood.
“And as happy as I’m going to be with Philip.” Jess, a couple of beats behind, clinks her glass a bit too forcefully against mine, and it shatters. “Oh, sorry, sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to do that quite so hard, I just get a bit too enthusiastic sometimes.”
“Here.” Carmen whisks the broken glass out of my hand. And then she grabs my hand and holds it away from my dress as a bright red spot bubbles on my finger. If I were a superstitious woman, which I’m not, I would take this as a bad sign.
“Oh, you’re bleeding, you’re bleeding,” Jess panics.
“It’s okay, it’s only a little cut,” Carmen tells her. And then to me, “Here, press this tissue against it. Pressure will stop it in a moment. Jess, you go get us some more glasses, and don’t tell Mrs. Mayford what’s happened. She’ll only dial the emergency services if you do,” she jokes, and I smile.
“But the glass—”
“I’ll do it. Shoo.” Carmen waves her off. “Actually, this is rather a fortuitous moment,” she says as soon as Jess is out of the room.
“What?” My nerves are already stretching to breaking point. “Do you think this is a bad omen, and that Jonathan and I are doomed?”
“No.” She raises a hand. “Don’t you start, that’s all we need, you panicking too. Here, hold out your hand,” she says as she peels the back off a bandage and sticks it to my finger. “I just wanted to ask if you’re sure about this?”
“Et tu, Carmen?” I sigh.
“I shan’t mention it ever again. But I just want to make sure that you’re marrying Jonathan for the right reasons. That you’re not getting caught up in all the coupledom fever that’s exploded amongst us in recent months and you think you ought to do this rather than you want to do this. That you’re not secretly harboring something a bit more than basic lust for a particular mysterious doctor who is exciting, and risky.”
My God, she’s far too perceptive for my good, sometimes.
“My God, that was a long speech.” I stall for time.
“Well, I had to get it off my chest. Besides, you know I know there’s something you’re not telling me about that certain McDonald’s-coffee-drinking doctor.” She pauses. Then adds, gently, “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.”
Her last line, straight out of the marriage service I will be hearing in about an hour’s time, stops my denial on my lips.
“Charlie and Lewis are downstairs.” Jess comes bubbling back into the room with some plastic cups. “Oh, your gran gave me these,” she says as Carmen and I are still looking into each other’s eyes. “Oh, and Luke’s here, too. He wants a word with you,” Jess adds, and we both turn and look at her instead. “I told him to wait while I checked you were decent.”
“Knock, knock,” Luke says, from my bedroom door. “Your gran said to just come right up.”
“Um, hello. Come in. This—this is a surprise,” I say, because it is, because he’s the last person I expect to see.
God, but he looks lovely.
As he steps into my bedroom, my heart picks up speed as it usually does, and I want to smooth back his hair.
“Um, I know that this is unusual, but would it be alright if I had a quick, private word with the bride-to-be?” he smiles at Carmen and Jess.
“Absolutely.” Carmen, immediately all business, flashes me a meaningful glance, only I’m not sure what it is that she actually means. “Come along, Jess.” She hustles Jess out of the room. “We’ll be right downstairs.”
“But—” Jess begins, but doesn’t get the chance to add anything else.
As Carmen closes the door firmly behind them, another awkward silence settles between us.
“I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye,” he tells me finally, pushing his hands into the pockets of his chinos. And then I notice that he’s wearing chinos, and not a morning suit, and I wonder what’s going on.
“You’re not—” I break off. He’s not coming to my wedding?
“I’m sorry. I felt I should say good-bye in person. Seeing as you’d taken the trouble to invite me to the wedding and everything.”
“You’re leaving?” My heart leaps into my mouth. Which is ridiculous, because I’m getting married to Jonathan in approximately fifty-five minutes. Why should I care if Luke’s there or not?
“Yes. A last-minute opportunity presented itself, and there’s nothing holding me back, so I thought, why not? I’m exchanging with an American colleague. I’ll be spending the next six months in New York.”
“Isn’t that a bit sudden?” I panic, which is also odd, because Luke’s geography on the face of the planet shouldn’t have such an impact on me. But New York. It’s so far away…
I’m goi
ng to be Mrs. Jonathan Leicester, I remind myself.
“Last-minute decision,” he says, not smiling as he looks at me in that endearing way of his. “Another colleague was supposed to take part in the exchange, but he had to back out at the last minute. Last night, in fact.”
“Isn’t it a bit of a risk?” I shouldn’t care if Luke comes to my wedding or, in fact, leaves the country at a moment’s notice, should I?
“Well, sometimes you have to take a chance. You know, make a snap judgement about something in life. And even if you do it once, and it doesn’t work out, you shouldn’t let it stop you from, you know, risking everything again—” He breaks off and changes his mind about whatever it is he’s going to say. “There’s nothing to keep me here anymore,” he finishes.
“But what about Elaine?” He’s divorcing his wife for Elaine. “You love Elaine,” I blurt. “I thought you were getting married. You know, once your divorce comes through,” I babble on. He can’t just be leaving.
“I’m not in love with Elaine,” he tells me, confusion written all over his face. “I’m sorry I gave her, and, apparently, everyone else, the wrong impression, but I have no intention, never did have, of marrying her. I thought we were just friends.”
“But you’re getting a divorce because of her. Why else would you wreck your marriage? Oh, I know you and Rowan are just friends, and about the family charitable donations and stuff, but why would you bother to upset the apple cart unless—” I babble, then stop, because I sound like an idiot, and I’m making an absolute mess of things, and Luke’s divorce is absolutely nothing to do with me.
“Ah, I see. Elaine confided in you about that. I see. I see. Never did get the chance to explain—no. No, it’s too late for that,” he says and begins to pace the room. “Right. Right,” he says, coming to a standstill in front of me.
“What’s too late?” I ask, hardly daring to breathe, because I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
“I met someone else,” Luke tells me, looking into my eyes.
“What happened?” I ask, every nerve in my body on red alert.
Confessions of a Serial Dater Page 26
