Confessions of a Serial Dater (17 page)

So, all in all, it’s rather unsettling to think that there are probably three men in this church with whom I have had sex. Three men I have known in the biblical sense.

I squash all thoughts of sex and reconcentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, because, of course, apart from several swigs of brandy, yet again I am wearing pinchy shoes.

I really tried to get something that would be elegant, sophisticated and comfortable. But as usual, I could only achieve two out of three. And Flora loves these particular shoes, because they echo her own, and as she’s paid such a lot of attention to detail (and paid for the shoes), I didn’t like to tell her that they hurt.

But pinchy shoes are worth the look on Ned’s face as he turns and sees Flora. He’s utterly bewitched, totally enamored of her, and as she turns to hand me her bouquet, the same smile is plastered on her face.

For a moment, just for a moment, I am entranced by this bond of complete love between them, and my throat tightens with emotion.
Emotion in motion,
I think, mentally thanking Iris Murdoch for penning such a lovely, appropriate set of words.

“Dearly beloved,” Philip begins, his voice echoing around the lovely, brightly lit church. Of course Philip is holding the service. It just seemed so appropriate that he would perform the honors. “We are gathered here today,” he continues solemnly, and I lose myself in the quiet beauty of the familiar words.

Grace is also here, somewhere on the bride’s side of the church. Although her companionship to Philip began as a professional one, I think that it’s developed into a genuine fondness between them.

Well, he certainly didn’t book her through Odd Jobs for this wedding, so that’s a good sign. I do hope so—she and Philip seem so well suited. Although an ex-fluffer and a vicar is an incongruous mix…

Thinking of hired escorts, my own hired escort, Clarke,
smiles encouragingly as I glance across at him and Mum and Gran. Well, I wasn’t going to turn up on my own and suffer silently through all the pitying, poor-Rosie glances, was I? Especially with the ex-boyfriend ratio in attendance.

Clarke is lovely. He’s a very nice, considerate man. Plus, he’s very good with Mum. Since the birthday horse surprise, she seems to have settled a bit. I still suspect she’s suffering from delayed depression, or something, but she has been better since I began staying over on the weekends and taking her out and about. I still can’t get her to go and see a doctor because she insists that she’s fine.

Although she’s only met Clarke twice before, she’s really taken to him, which is good, but I do feel a bit mean deceiving her by introducing him as my friend. Not exactly a lie—it’s not like I said “boyfriend”—but that is what she’s assumed. That’s what everyone else has assumed, too.

Fortunately, despite being tall, dark and handsome, he’s not my type. So therefore there’s no danger of anything unprofessional happening between us.

In reality, he’s a lawyer studying to take the bar, but he needs to supplement his earnings by moonlighting as an escort. Which is absolutely admirable and fine, as far as I am concerned.

As Philip pauses to allow anyone with an objection to speak now or forever hold their peace, I hold my breath. And then I breathe again as Philip continues. And after Philip says that those whom God has brought together, let no man put asunder, and after we’ve gone to the little anteroom to witness the signing of the marriage certificate, we’re tripping out into the lovely sunlight.

I’ve been purposely distracting myself from thinking about Luke. I don’t even know if he’s actually here, because I couldn’t figure out a way of asking Flora without drawing attention to him.

In fact, I don’t care, I really don’t.

In the weeks since our ill-fated night of passion, I have moved on and pushed him out of my mind and heart. Mostly…but at least I’m not having sexy daydreams anymore. Or dark images of revenge and retribution involving him being roasted slowly over hot coals.

And so, obviously, the first person I bump into outside the church as Paul starts putting groups of people together for the album shots is Luke.

He’s suddenly there, right in front of me, all handsome in his morning suit, as usual. And my heart leaps in my breast, and my organs all leap to attention, also as usual.

God, but he looks so
good
in formal clothes. His hair is still floppy, and he’s just as endearing as ever, and I can’t help but remember the last time I saw him. He was naked…

“Rosie.” He nods his head, not smiling. And just for a moment, as his eyes plead for understanding, I’m tempted to listen to whatever he has to say…but only for a moment.

“How’s your wife, Luke?” I ask him coldly, but I have a polite smile pinned to my face so that no one can suspect that we are anything but polite acquaintances.

“I’m—sorry you found out about that the way you did,” he begins, pushing his hands into his pockets. “I wondered if that’s why you didn’t call me, twice, but there’s—”

“But me no buts.” I hold up a hand, my smile cracking. If he tells me that his wife—whom I’ve just spotted talking to Elaine, and she is just as exquisite as she was the first time I saw her at the Christmas fund-raiser and the second time I saw her in the Ritz—doesn’t understand him, then I will scream.

“There is a very complicated, yet actually very simple, logical explanat—”

“There always is.” I dive right back in, my voice low in case of eavesdroppers. “And you can’t have it both ways. It’s either
simple or complicated, but at the end of the day, you should have had the decency to tell me about her so that I could choose whether or not to cheat on her with you.”

Wow, am I giving him chapter and verse, or what!

“And, anyway,” I continue, “it was just one of those meaningless things. A one-night stand after a party. It happens,” I shrug, as if it meant nothing to me. “Forget about it. I have.” A small white lie in the name of pride…

Usually, when it comes to this kind of confrontation, which is not a regular occurrence in my life, I become tongue-tied and forget what I want to say. But this time, I am so proud of myself for being so clear and firm, and for not stumbling once.

“I see. Fine, fine,” Luke tells me, looking at the floor. “I understand, sorry to disturb you, won’t happen again. I just couldn’t think of a way to avoid the wedding without hurting Ned—” And as he turns to go, Charlie chooses this moment to come dashing across.

“Luke, how the hell are you?” Charlie grabs his hand, shaking it vigorously. “You’re looking as scrumptious as ever, isn’t he, Rosie?” he says, oblivious to the undertones between us. “Lewis, this is Luke Benton. Luke, this is Lewis.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard all about you,” Luke says. “Glad to meet you.”

“Luke here was an absolute angel at Flora and Ned’s engagement party,” Charlie twitters on. “He’s a doctor,” he adds as Carmen and Jess arrive next to me.

“A-ha, the mysterious doctor who ministered to Elaine,” Carmen says, giving me a sly, sideways glance. “I’m Carmen,” she tells him, eyeing him speculatively. “What are your feelings about McDonald’s coffee?”

God, I can feel my face flaming. Carmen, who is suspicious about everything, knows, somehow, that there is something I am not telling her.

“You’ll have to excuse idiosyncratic questions from Carmen,” Charlie tells him. “She tends to the suspicious and whimsical on occasion, but we love her for it—you see, our Rosie here has an inclination toward handsome doctors, and Piccadilly Circus, but that obviously wasn’t you. Oh, what am I babbling on about?” he laughs. “Let’s just say you had to be there—private joke,” Charlie finishes, very unhelpfully, and my face flames even more.

“McDonald’s coffee is, in my opinion, completely unforgettable,” Luke tells Carmen, and I wonder if I should just slit my wrists now. “I drink it at every opportunity. In fact, I wouldn’t drink any other brew,” he tells her, and I can see that she’s instantly charmed by his easy manner.

“I think I’m going to like you,” she tells him bluntly.

But I can’t help wonder if he means that
I’m
unforgettable.

Also, I’m not sure I want him charming my friends.

“You’re the doctor who saved Flora’s engagement party,” Jess, a couple of beats behind the conversation as usual, tells him, holding out her hand. “I’m Jess. Are we talking about Rosie’s doctor? She likes doctors. Except for Dr. Foot Fetish,” Jess adds, and I wonder if there’s an empty grave in this churchyard that I can bury myself in now.

“But that’s all changed since she met her handsome lawyer.” Lewis, who is a highly perceptive human being, somehow senses my embarrassment, probably because my face is redder than his bow tie, jumps in, giving my arm an encouraging squeeze. “Where is your man?” he asks me.

“Looking after Mum and Gran,” I say. “Well. Better go check on my handsome boyfriend, hahaha. I hope you and your wife enjoy the wedding,” I add to Luke, glancing at Carmen as I place emphasis on the word “wife.”

I’ll speak to her later about putting her foot in it.

Fuck. I don’t believe this. Fuck, fuck and thrice fuck.

I am truly beginning to believe that someone out there has it in for me.

“Darling, I’m so sorry,” Flora says over my shoulder as I gaze in dismay at the seating plan from hell. “I should have checked.”

“It’s okay, Flora,” I say quickly, because she doesn’t deserve any last-minute anxieties. “It’s only for dinner. It will be fine,” I lie and briefly close my eyes.

“I shouldn’t have let Elaine anywhere near the arrangements, but she was so insistent on helping, and Mummy was so busy, and I was totally up to my neck at work—” she says, building up for a panic, which is not like my lovely, unpanicky Flora at all.

“Here, drink this,” I say, grabbing a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. “Take deep breaths.” I grab a glass for myself and swallow it in one gulp. “This is
your
day, and a little, piddly thing like a seating plan is not going to interfere with it,” I say, in a much calmer, positive manner than I’m actually feeling.

After the encounter with Luke, and the agony of having wonderful, yet embarrassing, friends, and the stress of worrying about Mum, this is all I need.

It truly is the fucking seating plan from hell.

Clarke and I are sitting with Elaine and Harry, Jonathan and Samantha, and, of course, Luke and Rowan. But at least no one knows that I’ve slept with Luke, which is a relief. Having to make small talk with his wife, however, is not.

“Are you sure, dear girl? I’m sure we can do some last-minute switching if we need to—”

“What are you doing?” I ask her. “Stop this. Go on, get back in there and find your lovely groom. I’m
commanding
you to have fun.”

“Thank you,” she says and kisses my cheek. “Thank you.”

“Shoo,” I add, and she sets off toward the top table, where the bride, groom, best man and parents of the bride and groom are all to sit.

“I hope we’re sitting together,” Carmen says as she and Jess come over to check out the floor plan.

“You two are,” I say. “You’re sitting with Paul, obviously, and with Philip, Grace, Charlie and Lewis. Unfortunately, I’m not so lucky.” I grab another glass of champagne.

“Grace seems very nice,” Jess says, obviously not quite with me. “Are she and Philip, you know, an item?”

“I’m not sure,” I tell her.

“Because he deserves to find a nice girlfriend, doesn’t he?”

“Absolutely,” I say, finishing my second glass. As the bubbles hit my bloodstream, I decide that there’s only one way to get through this. Every time anyone says anything to me at dinner, I will simply fill up my mouth with whatever comes to hand, and thereby avoid the need to speak.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Carmen fumes, her eyes blazing fury. “She’s done it again. If she weren’t pregnant, I’d take a swing for her, I swear I would.”

Did Elaine do this on purpose? I mean, I really thought she’d softened…

“Oh dear, oh no,” Jess sighs, as she finally gets it. “I’m sorry. But at least you have Luke and Rowan to chat to. They seem like really nice people.”

“Yes, they do,” Carmen says, eyeing me speculatively, and I flush. “Rowan’s lovely—apparently she’s involved with a lot of charitable events. Christmas fund-raisers, and such.”

“Really?” I am all nonchalant.

Because after I left them with Luke, earlier, I did notice that they were all having a very nice, cozy chat with him. And then he introduced them to his wife. I mean, that’s just
so bloody unfair, isn’t it? These are
my
friends. I don’t want them hobnobbing with the enemy.

Not that they know that Luke
is
the enemy…

“Yes,” Carmen tells me. “In fact, she arranged that function you attended last Christmas.”

And I know that Carmen knows. She’s always been too clever for her own good.

“Well, what a coincidence,” I say, brazening it out. “And while we’re discussing coincidences, can we please forget all about that McDonald’s event in Piccadilly Circus? Honestly, it was just so awkward of you to put me on the spot like that.”

“Excuse me for breathing,” Carmen says, eyeing me suspiciously. “It was supposed to be a private joke. He wouldn’t get it, anyway. I was just teasing you for fuck’s sake.”

“Well it wasn’t funny,” I say.

“My God.” Carmen puts a hand to her mouth. “Methinks the lady protesteth too much. It was him, wasn’t it?”

“Who?” Jess asks.

“The cheating, skanky—”

“No. I was the one who did the actual grabbing—remember what I told you?” I say, backtracking on the story, breaking up her rant before it can get into its stride. “I did the instigating. He did the nice, saving-me-from-Horrible-Boss thing. Then the post-grabbed-and-kissed-by-strange-woman shocked thing. And if you say or do anything, I will never speak to you again,” I tell her, meaning it. “Promise me.”

“Well, well, well,” Carmen says, grinning rather inexplicably. “At least you have good taste. And to be fair, you didn’t know he was otherwise taken. And you didn’t, you know, exchange telephone numbers or anything…”