Before You Say I Do

by Clare Lydon

  “Absolutely. Consider it done,” Jordan replied.

  “And Marcus?”

  Marcus turned to his mother. “Yes?”

  “I know Abby doesn’t want to deal with me, but could you both decide on a cake choice and topper? I know I’m not meant to know about these things, but I do. It’s Valerie’s daughter who runs the shop, and word gets around. And please, nothing too gaudy or modern. A traditional cake with a traditional bride and groom on the top should do the trick. Don’t you agree, Jordan?”

  Jordan gave Marjorie a slow nod. “Traditional, or traditional with a twist works well. But let me have a word with Abby and see what she thinks. Having done many weddings, I tend to think it’s the bride who cares more about these things than the groom.” Jordan glanced up at Marcus. “Of course, if you have strong feelings one way or the other, just say.”

  Marcus shook his head. “So long as you get Abby to the altar happy and relaxed, we could be eating plain old carrot cake with no topper for all I care.”

  “I’m sure Abby wouldn’t sanction that,” Jordan replied, before turning back to Marjorie, giving her a curt nod. “Leave it with me. Remember, my job is to alleviate your stress. Let me do that.”

  Marjorie gazed at Jordan, wonder in her eyes. “In all my years of organising events, I’ve never met anyone who does that quite as well as you.”

  Marcus waited until his mum and her Chanel red dress had disappeared around the corner before he turned to Jordan. His mouth hung open.

  “My mother may never have met anyone as slick as you, but I guarantee, neither have I. I’ve watched a million staff try to tame her over the years, but you just breezed in and did it.”

  Jordan grinned at him, shielding her eyes from the sun as they walked around the side of Marcus’s parents’ house. Her sunglasses were in the car, so she’d have to squint for now. “Let’s just say, I wasn’t as good when I first started, but I’ve learned a few tricks along the way.”

  Marcus came to a stop when they reached Jordan’s Capri. “Is this your car?”

  Jordan nodded. “Guilty. I have a thing for 70s bangers. Blame all the repeats of Minder on Gold.”

  Marcus grinned. “I have no idea what that means, but your car’s cool.” He paused. “One thing, did you really have lunch with the editor of Perfect Bride?”

  “Absolutely. No word of a lie.” Marcus needed to believe in her credentials just as much as his mother. Maybe more. He was the one paying her wages, after all.

  “Well, you’re worth every penny whether you did or you didn’t. Abby loves you. My mother loves you. All of which means, I love you, too.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot of love from all of you. I hope I can live up to it.”

  “You already are. Apart from Abby saying yes to me in the first place, you’re the best thing that’s happened during this wedding preparation. I mean it.”

  Jordan gulped, thinking back to Abby’s hands around her waist, her breasts pressed into her back. The way an arc of pleasure had gripped her tight throughout.

  She chewed the inside of her cheek, before giving Marcus a confident smile. “Glad you think so,” she replied.

  Chapter 10

  “There’s my gorgeous almost-daughter!” Gloria bowled up to Delta and they embraced. A full, squidgy, Scottish hug. None of those southern air kisses, as Mum always said.

  Warmth rolled through Abby. Mum had always loved Delta, and vice versa.

  When they finally let go, Delta stepped back, giving Mum her full smile. “Great to see you, Gloria. Ready for your daughter to marry into almost-royalty?”

  “I’ve been waiting since she was a tiny tot.” Gloria put an arm around Abby’s shoulder, squeezing tight. “Seeing my little girl married to a posh boy? That bit I hadn’t quite imagined. Mainly because I’m from Glasgow. Have I told you that before, hen?”

  Mum’s accent was suddenly as Scottish as could be. Abby rolled her eyes. That was another thing Delta and her mother had in common. Putting on thick Scottish accents for comic effect.

  “You did, Gloria, aye!” Delta responded.

  They fell about laughing, before they all sat at the table Abby had commandeered when she’d arrived. They were in Bart’s Bar in Canary Wharf, where both Abby and Delta worked, in the heart of the financial district. It was 6pm on a Thursday, and the bar was packed with workers out for a drink, jackets discarded, ties loosened. This was Abby and Delta’s world, but it wasn’t Jordan’s. What was Jordan’s world? Abby had no idea.

  All she knew was that Jordan was a problem solver supreme. Someone who threw herself into her job. But who she really was? Abby was clueless. She wanted to rectify that soon. Jordan had quickly become someone she relied on. Jordan had said she could ask her anything, but they always seemed to end up talking about Abby, and not her. She’d moved around a lot as a kid. She lived with her best friend in Brighton. She had good taste in clothes. That was about as far as Abby had got.

  “Can you refrain from doing your Scottish comedy act when Jordan turns up? I’d like for her not to think we’re all crazy the minute she arrives.”

  Gloria reached over the table, patting Abby’s hand. “If the shoe fits, hen.” She hadn’t dialled down her accent an inch.

  “Anyway, Marcus is not royalty. His family have just done well in the property business. Plus, his money isn’t why I’m marrying him, so can we not make jokes about that when Jordan’s here, either?”

  Mum sat back with a sigh. “I never said Marcus wasn’t lovely. I know he is because of the time you came to stay. He ate your dad’s square sausage for breakfast and never once asked what the hell he was eating. That’s love, right there.”

  Abby laughed. That was Marcus all over, fitting into his surroundings.

  “I just want to make a good impression on Jordan, that’s all.”

  Delta raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Jesus, Abby. It sounds like you’re marrying Jordan, not Marcus. She’s staff, as I believe you pointed out to me when we met last.”

  Abby’s cheeks burned. She hated that term, it was one Marjorie used. But yes, she did recall saying it. Maybe the Montgomerys had rubbed off on her too much already.

  “I just want it all to go well.” Abby checked her watch. “She’s due any moment. So just remember, play nicely.” She pointed at Delta. “No baring your teeth, okay?”

  Delta nodded, a butter-wouldn’t-melt smile gracing her lips. “You’re the bride, and we’re both here to make your life easier. Yar-di-yar-di-yar. I get it. Jordan is my new best friend, okay?”

  Abby gave her a nod. “Perfect.”

  Jordan swept in ten minutes later, and Abby gulped. She looked stunning. She was wearing a blue jump suit and tan heels, her slim waist accentuated with a matching tan belt. When she saw Abby, she gave her a wide grin and waved. Marcus had told Abby that Jordan turned up to see his mother in a stunning gold dress. Jordan was a fashion chameleon, fitting into whatever the occasion.

  Jordan pulled out the spare chair from the table, then held out a hand in greeting to Mum. “You must be Gloria.” Jordan pumped her mum’s hand like she was the most important person in the world. “And you must be Delta.” More hand-shaking, as Delta nodded.

  Jordan sat, smoothing her clothes as she spoke. “I’ve heard so much about both of you. I’m Jordan, and I’m looking forward to getting to know you better over the next few weeks in the run-up to Abby’s big day.”

  “We’ve heard a lot about you, too.” Gloria paused, tilting her head to the side. “But Abby never told us you were so stunning. You could be a model!”

  Abby closed her eyes. Oh god, Mum was babbling like she was starstruck. Perhaps this was what had happened to Marjorie. Maybe Jordan really did have some kind of magic juice when it came to mothers.

  Jordan took it all in her stride. “I was briefly, in my youth, but modelling wasn’t for me. Too much standing about and posing. Plus, far too many lecherous men everywhere you turned.” She stowed her handbag at her feet. �
��I prefer my current line of work any day. As a professional bridesmaid, my job is to deliver happiness. That’s something nobody offers you as a career in school, is it?”

  Delta snorted. “That’s quite a ticket you have on yourself.”

  Abby kicked her under the table. So much for playing nice.

  Delta flinched, but said nothing, scowling at Abby.

  Abby glanced at Jordan. If that comment had irked her, she was giving nothing away.

  The waiter brought over the bottle of sauvignon blanc Abby had ordered earlier, along with four glasses.

  Abby gave the bottle to Delta with a pointed stare.

  Delta poured with a flourish.

  “A professional bridesmaid.” Gloria was still transfixed. “How did you go about getting that job, if you don’t mind me asking.”

  Jordan shook her head. “It’s a valid question. I kinda fell into it when a friend of mine, Catherine, asked me to be her maid of honour. We were friends, but not particularly close, so it felt odd. If my flatmate Karen asked, that would be normal. We’re best mates.

  “When I asked Catherine why she chose me, she admitted it was because I’m organised and unflappable, and she wanted someone who would take charge of the hen do and help her out. So when I was made redundant from my job as an events planner months later, I put up an ad on Gumtree offering my services doing just that for other brides, and woke up to 20-plus emails. That’s when I knew it was a viable business.”

  “Wow.” Gloria took a sip of her wine that Delta had just finished pouring. “And you’ve done how many other weddings?”

  “This is number 28. Lucky number 28, of course.”

  There was a lull in conversation as everyone took that in. Abby was keeping a close watch on her mum and Delta. Mum seemed smitten. Abby knew Delta would be harder to win over. She might say she was fine with the situation, but Abby knew she’d get jealous. She’d already proved that with her snark. Abby hoped these drinks would put Delta’s misgivings to bed.

  Abby glanced Jordan’s way, taking in her perfect make-up, her styled hair. When she took a deep breath in, she could smell her perfume. It reminded her of summer days.

  “Have you been asked to do anything weird in your role?”

  “Delta!” Abby hadn’t expected that question this early on.

  “No, that’s fair enough,” Jordan replied. “I’ve stepped in for dads who couldn’t handle the father-of-the-bride speech. I’ve dyed my hair brown to fit in with the rest of the bridesmaids. I’ve held brides while they’ve thrown up all the tequila they had on their hen do. No day is the same. I feel very privileged to be able to contribute to such an important time in people’s lives, and help them to the goal of a happily married life.” She paused. “I have high hopes for the run-up to this wedding. No vomiting at least.”

  Abby glanced at Delta, whose face was still drawn into a straight line, giving nothing away.

  Jordan leaned forward, flashing her audience a killer smile. “At the end of the day, I’m a mix of on-call therapist, virtual assistant, social director, and peacekeeper.” She glanced at Abby. “Now Lauren’s stepped back, I’ve taken over the wedding planning, too. However, my key role is being the bride’s right-hand woman, but also being there for all the bridesmaids, too. Think of me as at your beck and call. All of you, particularly the three at this table. The bride, her mum, and her maid of honour. Three of the most important people at the wedding. I’m totally Team Abby, and I’m full-time working in Cannes. I promise you, I’ll make it a weekend to remember.” She paused, looking directly at Delta. “But I also promise to defer to the maid of honour and the bride in what they want to do. I don’t want to tread on any toes. If I do my job right, I should be invisibly making things seem easy.”

  Gloria held up her glass. “Well I’ll cheers to that. You sound like Wonder Woman and Superman combined.”

  “Will you be wearing a cape all weekend?” Delta asked.

  Abby held her breath. This would get easier. She hoped. This was the first meeting. Teething trouble, that’s all.

  “I’ll wear anything the bride wants. If that means sporting a Wonder Woman costume all weekend, I’m in.” Jordan paused, eyeing Delta with interest. “Although I think I rock a Cat Woman PVC jumpsuit better. More edge.”

  Abby conjured that image in her mind. Then let it go as quickly as it had arrived. She had to focus on getting her bridal party on the same page and on-board with Jordan.

  Not how Jordan might look in PVC.

  The answer, obviously, was stunning.

  Definitely better than Marcus.

  However, Abby brought her mind back to the present. She cleared her throat, gaining everyone’s attention.

  Delta’s wary blue eyes; Gloria’s bright green stare; and Jordan’s baby blues.

  So capable, so strong.

  What the actual fuck, Abby?

  She slapped that thought away as quickly as it had arisen. “Just to reiterate the back story, because it might come up at the hen. We met at primary school. Then she was whisked away by her military parents to Germany. We got back in touch via Facebook in the last six months and I always promised Jordan she’d be my bridesmaid, so here she is.”

  “Shame we never met before, Jordan,” Delta said. “I’ve known Abby since we were 17. So not quite as long as you.” The snark in her voice was audible.

  “We all know the truth, that’s the main thing,” Jordan replied, skilfully side-stepping the tension seeping from Delta. “I’m relying on your input as you know Abby best. She tells me you came up with a good few of the grand plans for the weekend.”

  Delta dipped her head, at least having the good grace to look embarrassed.

  “Thanks to everyone’s efforts, the weekend is now in tip-top shape.” Jordan swept her gaze around the table. “Transport, food, entertainment, surprises. It’s going to be great.”

  “It will be, because we’re all going to be there,” Delta said.

  Abby eyed her. Was that the sound of her thawing a little? She really hoped so, otherwise the hen weekend was going to be long. “Just like you’re going to be at my final dress decision, dearest maid of honour?” Her tone was pointed.

  Gloria glanced at her daughter. “I told you I can’t make that, right? I’ve got a conference.”

  Abby nodded. “You did. But you were at the first one, so that’s fine. I’ve had both dresses fitted already. I held up the final decision on which one to choose so Delta could be there. Plus, now Jordan’s coming, too.”

  Delta gave a salute. “I’m there. Jordan might have taken over some things, but not everything.”

  “Good.” Abby sat back, smiling at her wedding crew.

  This was it.

  It looked like she was getting married.

  Chapter 11

  Abby sat on the bridal shop sofa, flicking through Perfect Bride magazine. It’d been six days since Abby had seen Jordan at the drinks with her mum and Delta, and she had to admit she’d been impressed. Jordan had won Abby around with her charm, but she’d also won over her mum and Delta, which was no mean feat. Whatever bomb Delta had thrown at her, Jordan had defused. Had she said she studied psychology at uni? If so, she clearly remembered everything she’d been taught.

  Unlike Abby, who’d done an economics degree, and never used any of the theory she’d learned. Still, she looked back on college as fun years, albeit ones she wished she’d paid more attention to. But college, like youth, was wasted on the young. Then she smiled. She was still only 36. She was hardly ancient. Some days, she just felt like it.

  Delta had texted the following day to say that she was okay with Jordan, which was tantamount to a blessing from her best friend. Delta had promised to give Jordan a far easier time on the hen weekend, which had made Abby sigh. Weren’t all the hens meant to make an effort to play super-nice and do everything Abby wanted? Or perhaps that was just a facade, too. Just like her relationship with Marcus’s parents. She was grateful to Jordan for coming i
n and taking over, but she couldn’t help but think it wasn’t going to fix anything in the long run, was it? She was still going to be Marcus’s wife. His parents were going to have to pretend to like her for years to come.

  Marcus’s wife.

  Abby shivered. Was that the reaction she was meant to be having, fewer than two weeks away from the big day? Perhaps these were the wedding jitters everybody spoke about.

  That was probably it.

  She wished she could share her reservations with someone, but she didn’t know who.

  She’d kept herself occupied with work. Her mum was taken up being the head of her department. Delta was too wrapped up in herself. And Marcus? He was too busy running around trying to keep everyone happy.

  No, this was something Abby had to deal with herself.

  What would Jordan say if she knew? Maybe she should talk to her. She must have seen it before. She’d probably have the right thing to tell Abby.

  She took a deep breath, pushing the thoughts from her mind. As she did, the scents of the bridal shop wafted into her nostrils. She glanced around, trying to find where it was coming from. Some kind of diffuser? One of those plug-in types? Whatever, it smelled a little chemical-laden. Like the relaxation it was trying to promote was too contrived.

  A little like most things wedding-related, as Abby had come to realise ever since she’d said yes to Marcus six months ago.

  Was it weird that since that time, they’d had sex twice? Not at all in the past three months? They didn’t live together, so it wasn’t something they could do before work, or have a quickie on the sofa after a chicken-and-mushroom stir-fry.

  Since he’d proposed, it was like her body had gone into shutdown. She hadn’t even pleasured herself much. She’d gone into survival mode, only doing the basics. Eat. Sleep. Drink. Work. Survive.

  In fact, the only time her body had sprung to life was when she’d met Jordan.

  But she was trying to ignore that.