Wedding Night: A Novel

30

LOTTIE

When I give my Making Your Job Work for You! seminar to staff members at Blay Pharmaceuticals, one of my themes is: You can learn from everything. I take a sample workplace situation and we brainstorm and then list as bullet points What You Learned from This.

After two hours on Yuri Zhernakov’s yacht, my bullet points would go as follows:

• I am never having my lips done.

• Actually, I wouldn’t mind a yacht.

• Krug is ambrosia from heaven.

• Yuri Zhernakov is so rich, it makes my eyes water.

• Ben’s tongue was practically hanging out. And what about all those embarrassing sycophantic jokes?

• Whatever Ben may think, Yuri is not interested in “joint projects.” The only thing he wanted to talk about was the house.

• If you ask me, Yuri will get rid of the paper company altogether. Ben doesn’t seem to realize this.

• I think Ben may be quite thick.

• We should never, ever have come back via the beach.

This was our big mistake. We should have got the boat to drop us a mile up the coast. Because, the moment we landed, we were seized by Nico.

“Mr. and Mrs. Parr! Just in time for the gala ceremony!”

“What?” Ben stared at him quite rudely. “What are you talking about?”

“You know.” I nudged him. “Happy Couple of the Week.”

There was nothing we could do to escape. Now we’re milling around with about twenty other guests from the hotel, drinking cocktails and listening to a band play “Some Enchanted Evening.” Everyone is gossiping about Yuri Zhernakov’s yacht being moored in the bay. I’ve heard Ben tell at least five sets of people that we were there earlier on, drinking Krug. Every time, it makes me flinch. And any minute we’re going to have to go up onto the platform and receive the Happy Couple of the Week trophy. Which is insane.

“Do you think we could get out of it?” I murmur to Ben as conversation lulls. “Let’s face it, we’re hardly Happy Couple of the Week.”

Ben looks at me blankly. “Why not?”

Why not? Is he for real? “Because we’re already discussing divorce!” I hiss.

“But we’re still happy.” He shrugs.

Happy? How can he possibly be happy? I glare at him, suddenly wanting to hit him. He was never into this marriage. Never. It was just a diversion. A craze. Like the time I got into Scandinavian knitwear and bought a knitting machine.

But a marriage isn’t a knitting machine! I almost want to yell this at him. This whole thing is a joke. I want to leave.

“Ah, Mrs. Parr.” It’s Nico again, swooping down as though suspecting I was about to escape. “We are nearly ready for the trophy presentation.”

“Great.” My sarcasm is so pointed that he winces.

“Madame, may I apologize yet again for the inconvenience you have suffered on this holiday. As I said, I am pleased to offer you, in recompense, a deluxe weekend for two in one of our premium suites, to include all meals and one snorkeling experience.”

“I hardly think that’s appropriate.” I glare at him. “You’ve ruined our honeymoon. Ruined our marriage.”

Nico drops his eyes to the sand. “Madame, I am desolate. But I must tell you, this was not my own idea, this was not my own will. It was a huge mistake on my part and one that I will always regret, but the original idea, it came from—”

“I know.” I cut him off. “My sister.”

Nico nods his head. He looks so abject that I feel a pang of sympathy for him. I know what Fliss is like. When she gets into crusading mood, no one can refuse her.

“Look, Nico,” I say at last. “It’s OK. I don’t blame you. I know what my sister’s like. I know she’s been sitting there in London like a puppet mistress pulling the strings.”

“She was very determined.” He bows his head again.

“I forgive you.” I hold out my hand. “I don’t forgive her,” I add quickly. “But I forgive you.”

“Madame, I am not worthy.” Nico takes my hand to his lips. “I wish you a thousand happinesses.”

As he walks away, I wonder what Fliss is doing now. She said in her voicemail she was coming to the hotel. Maybe she’ll arrive tomorrow. Well, maybe I’ll refuse to see her.

I take a few more sips of cocktail and have a conversation with a woman in blue about which spa treatment is the best value, while trying to avoid Melissa. She keeps trying to quiz me on what exactly Ben and I do for a living, and isn’t it a bit dangerous, keeping a gun in my handbag? And then, all of a sudden the band comes to a halt and Nico has mounted the stage. He taps the microphone a few times and beams down on the gathered throng.

“Welcome!” he says. “We are delighted to see you all at our cocktail and presentation event. Just as Aphrodite is the goddess of love, so the Amba is the home of love. And tonight we celebrate a very special couple. They are here on their honeymoon and have won our Happy Couple of the Week award: Ben and Lottie Parr!”

Applause breaks out around us, and Ben gives me a nudge. “Go on.”

“I’m going!” I say bad-temperedly. I make my way over the sand to the platform and step up, squinting a little as a spotlight hits my eyes.

“Congratulations, dear lady!” exclaims Nico, as he hands me a large silver trophy in the shape of a heart. “Let me give you both your crowns.…”

Crowns?

Before I can protest, Nico places silvered plastic crowns on our heads. He deftly fastens a satin sash over my shoulder, then steps back. “The winning couple!”

The audience claps again and I give a rictus smile into the lights. This is hideous. A trophy, a crown, and a sash? I feel like a beauty queen without the beauty.

“And now a few words from our happy couple!” Nico passes the microphone to Ben, who promptly passes it to me.

“Hello, everybody.” My voice booms out, and I wince at the sound. “Thank you so much for this … honor. Well, obviously we’re a very happy couple. We’re so, so happy.”

“Very happy,” adds Ben into the microphone.

“Blissful.”

“It’s been the ideal honeymoon.”

“When Ben first proposed, I had no idea that I would end up so … so happy. So very happy.”

Suddenly, with no warning, a tear snakes down my face. I can’t help it. When I look back to myself in that restaurant, elatedly agreeing to marry Ben, it’s like looking at a different person. A mad, deluded, crazy person. What was I thinking of? Marrying Ben was like drinking four double shots of vodka. For a bit, it masked the pain and I felt fabulous. But this is the hangover, and it’s not pretty.

I smile harder and lean into the microphone. “We’re just so happy,” I repeat for emphasis. “Everything’s gone so smoothly and brilliantly, and there hasn’t been a tense moment between us. Has there, darling?”

Two more tears are rolling down my face. I’m hoping they’ll play as tears of joy.

“What a delightful, heavenly time we’ve had,” I add, wiping my face. “What a wonderful, idyllic time. It’s been perfect in every way, and we couldn’t be happier—” I break off mid-flow as my eye is caught by a trio of silhouetted figures making their way up the beach from the sea. They’re all wrapped in towels, but even so …

Is that …

No. It can’t be.

Beside me, Ben is looking the same way, his mouth falling open in astonishment.

“Lorcan?” He grabs the microphone from me and calls into it loudly. “Lorcan! What the fuck? How long have you been here?”

“Aunt Lottie!” cries the smallest toweled figure, suddenly spotting me. “Aunt Lottie, you’ve got a crown on!”

But it’s the third figure that I’m staring at, my jaw sagging.

“Fliss?”