Thirteen Weddings (3 page)

‘It’s not like we’re best mates,’ I continue full steam. ‘But I’ve known her for donkey’s years. She didn’t even ask me to be a flippin’
bridesmaid.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘Not that I wanted to be a bridesmaid.’

‘No?’

‘No. I think marriage is pointless and I bloody hate weddings and she knows it.’

‘I see.’

‘Sorry, I’m going on.’

He smiles. ‘It’s okay.’

‘I’ll shut up now.’

We fall silent for a bit.

‘When did you split up with your boyfriend?’

Hmm, so he’s asking
that
question...

‘A few weeks ago.’ I turn the interrogation around. ‘What about you? Are you seeing anyone?’

He looks away. ‘Nope,’ he says shortly. I figure that’s the end of the conversation, but then he elaborates. ‘I split up with my girlfriend a few weeks ago,
too.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry.’

He shrugs, but doesn’t meet my eyes. ‘It’s okay. Uh-oh.’

‘What?’

He nods towards the dance floor. ‘The girl’s back.’

I look over to see her making her way through the crowds towards Batman and Robin. They’re now dancing with a couple of nice-looking, reasonably sober girls. If these girls knew what the
seemingly harmless superheroes had been up to with an ice cube, they’d run a mile. I sit there and cringe as I watch the wasted girl sidle up to the boys. They pretend not to see her.

‘Doesn’t she have any friends to take her home?’ I ask worriedly.

We watch as the other two girls flash each other wary looks and move elsewhere on the dance floor. Obviously realising they’ve lost their chances, Batman and Robin revert to their original
plan, locking the wasted girl in another sandwich. It’s like watching the scene of a car crash – I can’t tear my eyes away.

Suddenly, Alex’s drink is in my hand and he’s on his feet. He stalks over to Batman and takes him by his arm, firmly pulling him away. Batman stumbles slightly in surprise. I
can’t see Alex’s face, but I see shame cloud Batman’s expression and then he nods and reaches past the girl to tap Robin’s arm. The girl wobbles drunkenly as the horny
superheroes leave her be. Alex says something to her and she frowns, trying to process his words. Eventually she looks around and points up to the higher level where we came in. Alex takes her by
the elbow and guides her off the dance floor.

Wow. I am so impressed right now.

There’s a thump beside me and I turn with a start to see Bridget sitting in the space recently vacated by Alex.

‘Polly’s pretty pissed off at you,’ she says flippantly.

‘Is she?’ My heart sinks.

‘Wonder if it’s time we should get her home.’

‘Good luck with that,’ I say wryly.

‘You sound like you’ve been here before.’ She cocks her head to one side and slurps her cocktail through a straw.

‘Many, many times.’ I sigh and get to my feet. ‘We’ll need to sober her up, first.’

I set off towards the bar. I’ll get her a lemonade and lime. With vodka, it’s her favourite drink, but I doubt she’ll notice the alcohol is missing.

‘Oi.’ I feel a hand on my arm and I spin around to see that it belongs to Alex.

‘Are you deserting me?’ he asks reproachfully. ‘I leave you alone for
one
minute.’

‘I’m just getting Polly a lemonade,’ I tell him with a smile as he lets his hand drop. ‘Where’s the girl?’

‘I took her upstairs to her friends. They were just about to leave.’

‘Good timing. That was really nice of you,’ I say sincerely. He looks embarrassed by the praise. ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ I promise.

By the time I return to the bench seat, Polly is there, flanked by Alex and Bridget on either side.

‘I got you another drink,’ I say breezily.

‘What is it?’ Polly glares suspiciously at the drink in her hands.

‘Vodka, lemonade and lime,’ I lie.

She looks appeased. ‘Good.’

Bridget and Alex smirk at me.

‘Why did you split up with Jason?’ Polly cries out of nowhere.

My eyes inadvertently flick towards Alex.

‘When are you ever going to settle down? I thought things were going really well,’ she adds bluntly.

‘Yeah, well, things change.’ I can’t keep the touchiness from my tone.

‘I doubt Bronte wants to talk about it now,’ Bridget chips in reasonably.

Polly turns on her. ‘How the hell would you know? You’ve only just met her!’

‘Okay, time to go home,’ Bridget snaps, leaping to her feet and dragging Polly with her.

‘What? Why? I’m not ready!’ Polly stutters.

‘Yes, you are. It’s nearly one o’clock, Grant’s waiting up for you at home and he’ll be properly jacked off if you barf all over your new carpet.’

I am
amazed
when Polly doesn’t argue. Does that mean this night is over? I reluctantly get to my feet, feeling strangely disappointed.

‘Stay,’ Bridget insists. ‘Finish your drink. I’ll take her home.’

‘What? No,’ I reply, startled. ‘I’ll come.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she waves me away. ‘Your hotel is nearby. I need to catch a cab home via theirs anyway.’ She looks past me to Alex, then back at me with
meaning. ‘Stay,’ she urges again. Out of the corner of my eye I see Alex hunch forward and rest his elbows on his knees.

The other hens have swarmed around us now. Maria and Kelly are talking about staying, too, but Michelle wants to catch a cab home with Bridget and Polly. She’s Polly’s only
bridesmaid, after all: a friend from work.

‘Do you want me to take you home?’ I ask Polly, feeling guilty.

‘No!’ she exclaims. ‘Go back to the hotel.’ She grins, wobbling slightly. ‘I asked the maids to leave some extra chocolates on your pillow. And
anyway,’ she pushes me away slightly then reaches back and locks her fingers around my wrist, ‘Grant wants sex tonight.’ She lets me go, turning to Michelle.

Too much information.

‘Are you sure about this?’ I ask Bridget.

‘Absolutely.’ She seems remarkably with it considering all the shots she’s consumed.

We say our goodbyes and then Maria and Kelly head back onto the dance floor while I tail off towards Alex. Thankfully, he’s still there. He looks up as I sit back down next to him.

‘Staying?’ he asks.

‘Didn’t want to leave you at the mercy of Batman and co.’

‘I could take them on, no problem,’ he says with exaggerated confidence. He stares at the throng on the dance floor. ‘I haven’t seen the lads for a while.’

Oh. Is he looking for an excuse to leave? ‘Don’t worry about me if you want to go and find them.’

‘No, not at all,’ he says quickly. ‘Although I do feel a bit bad.’ He glances at me. ‘Not that bad, though.’

I narrow my eyes and peer through the crowd. ‘Is that them over there?’ I point and he leans his head close to mine to follow the line of my extended digit. We’re so close I
can smell his aftershave. Mmm, musk.

‘Oh yeah, that’s them,’ he says.

‘So... Brian, is it?’

‘Yep. He’s marrying my little sister Jo.’

‘And do you approve?’

He shrugs. ‘He’s alright.’

‘That’s a glowing reference if ever I heard one.’

He laughs. ‘No, he’s alright. He’s fine. I don’t know him that well.’

‘Tonight is supposed to be your chance to get to know him better.’ I don’t know why I’m pointing this out and encouraging him to leave.

He hesitates. ‘Well, he’s pretty off his face. I’m not sure I’m seeing him in his best light.’ He knocks back his drink. ‘I’ll go buy them a round, make
up for it.’ He stands up.

‘Get them more pissed?’

‘Vodka, lemonade and lime, like Polly?’ he teases.

I sit there for a bit on my own, crowd-watching and jigging my leg along to ‘I’m Holding Out For A Hero’. It’s an apt song, considering my company. I mean Alex,
obviously, not Batman and Robin. The next thing I know, Michael Jackson and Michael J Fox are sitting next to me.

‘Are you here alone?’ MJ asks with a lewd expression.

‘Nope,’ I reply. ‘My boyfriend’s just gone to get me a drink.’ Not strictly true, unfortunately.

‘Are you Australian?’ Fox asks.

‘Yep.’

‘Why didn’t you come as Kylie?’ MJ demands to know.

‘Didn’t really feel like it.’ They’re not getting the hint. I’m not interested.

‘Why not? You’d look so much hotter with blonde hair.’ Fox reaches across and strokes my hair with his hairy werewolf glove.

‘Get off,’ I swat his hand away and he laughs, unfazed.

Idiot. I get up and bash straight into Alex.

‘Whoa!’ he gasps, holding two drinks aloft and trying to minimise spillage.

‘Sorry!’ My body is flush with his and I feel light-headed.

‘You okay?’ He steps back marginally and frowns past me at the guys on the bench.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ I jerk my head to my left and he follows me to a corner beside the dance floor. He hands over a familiar-looking cocktail. ‘Seabreeze,’ he shouts
into my ear. ‘And yes, it comes with vodka.’

I nudge him jovially. ‘Thanks.’

‘Were those guys harassing you?’ We’re closer to the speakers here and it’s louder, so he has to lean into my ear to talk to me.

‘No, just annoying. Told me I should have come as Kylie and that I’d look better with blonde hair.’

He looks horrified and shakes his head. ‘You wouldn’t.’

I laugh. ‘No?’

‘Definitely not.’ He lifts the end of my fishtail plait and lets it drop back against my collarbone. He rests his elbow on a shelf jutting out from the wall. His shirt is slightly
open at the top and from this angle I can see the smooth skin of his chest. He glances down at me and I quickly avert my eyes. I notice my feet have stopped hurting.

‘When did you arrive?’ he asks.

‘Yesterday. I’m staying at a hotel up the road from here.’

‘Oh right.’ His eyebrows go up. ‘No last Tube home dilemmas for you.’

‘Where do you live?’

He looks momentarily fed up. ‘I did live in Shoreditch, but I’m staying with my parents right now in Crouch End.’

I don’t know where either place is.

‘East London and North London,’ he explains, seeing my look of confusion.

‘Were you living with your girlfriend?’ I ask, as understanding dawns on me.

‘Yep,’ he replies curtly.

I’m not sure he wants to talk about it, but I’m intrigued.

‘Why did you split up?’ I ask.

‘Why did you and your boyfriend split up?’ he bats back.

Fine, if he wants to play it that way. ‘He moved to Western Australia for a job. He’s a maintenance technician for a large mining company. The long-distance relationship wasn’t
doing it for us.’

‘Didn’t you think about moving there with him?’ he asks.

‘No. I have a good job in Sydney.’

‘Sounds like it wasn’t meant to be.’

‘You’re right. If it were, we would have made it work. But we were only together for a year.’

‘Try eight,’ he says drily.

‘
Eight?
Is that how long you were with your girlfriend?’

‘Yeah. We met in our last year at uni.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Just turned thirty. You?’

‘Twenty-eight.’

He pushes his hand through his hair and rests his elbow back on the shelf. He has long, dark eyelashes. I wonder what his eyes look like in the daylight.

‘So why did you split up?’ I ask. ‘You owe me,’ I point out with a smile.

He shrugs. ‘Just one of those things.’

‘Not fair,’ I complain at his lack of elaboration.

‘We’d been growing apart for a while,’ he confides at last. ‘I think she might be into someone at work.’

‘Did she cheat on you?’ I ask with a frown.

‘I don’t think so,’ he replies. ‘But I think she wanted to. She can do what she likes, now.’ His jaw clenches and he takes a swig of his beer. ‘Although
we’re
supposed
to just be on a break,’ he says darkly.

‘What does being “on a break” even
mean?
I ask with irritation. ‘Does it mean you’ve split up or not?’

He rolls his eyes. ‘I hate that term, too. The truth is, she just wants to see what else is out there while I sit around waiting for her.
Then
she’ll think about settling
down.’ He takes another angry swig of his beer.

‘So don’t sit around waiting,’ I say. ‘Do the same.’

My pulse races as he locks me in a direct stare.

I jolt at the sound of someone shouting his name, and turn in time to see Nigel coming our way with drunken purpose. ‘We thought you’d gone home!’ he exclaims. I look past him
to see Brian dancing with Kelly and Maria? The other two stags appear to have left.

‘Come and dance with us!’ Maria shouts, excitedly beckoning me over.

Her dark hair looks remarkably glossy and unsweaty as it fans her pretty olive-skinned features. She’s a professional hair and make-up artist and is doing Polly’s make-up for the
wedding, so I bet she knows all the tips.

‘Come
on
!’ Nigel urges, grabbing my arm with his hot, clammy paw and dragging me over to them.

Alex has no choice but to follow.

‘Drunk enough yet?’ I ask him with a grin as we reach the others.

Turns out we must both be drunk enough, because as ‘Red, Red Wine’ starts to belt out of the speakers, we both start to dance. I turn to face him, holding my drink aloft and singing
along because it’s hard not to. He grins down at me. It’s a sexy, chilled-out song and my heart jumps when he puts his hand on my hip. I instinctively move closer to him. I’m
eye-level with his lips and they’re perfect, not too thin, not too full. I bet he’s a great kisser.

‘When are you going back home?’ he shouts into my ear.

‘Just under two weeks.’

He pulls back as his eyes widen. ‘Long way to come for such a short time.’

‘Work wouldn’t give me any more time off. My new boss is a bit of a ball-breaker.’

‘What?’ He frowns and cups my head, pulling me closer so he can hear me over the music.

I feel the heat of his body seep into mine. The hairs on my arms are standing up. ‘I’m going to Italy after the wedding.’

‘By yourself?’

‘Yeah. Rome, Florence, Venice, if I have time.’

His hand moves back to my hip as we continue to dance. ‘Red, Red Wine’ ends and annoyingly, Yazz’s ‘The Only Way Is Up’ kicks off. There goes our sexy dancing.