Wedding Night (44 page)

“I was about to have the hottest sex of my life!” she yells. “The hottest sex of my life!”

OK, she didn’t listen to a word, did she?

“I’m sorry,” I say feebly, dodging a man wheeling a huge suitcase bound with raffia.

“You always have to interfere, Fliss! Just because you think you know best. You’ve always been the same, my whole life, interfering, telling me what to do, bossing me around.…”

Suddenly her words sting me. It’s not as if I’ve done this for my own benefit.

“Look, Lottie. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you,” I say, as calmly as I can manage. “But since we’re discussing it, Ben isn’t planning to be a faithful husband. He’s two-timing you with a girl called Sarah; Lorcan told me.”

There’s a small, shocked silence. However, if I was expecting her to capitulate at this piece of news, I was wrong.

“So what?” she lashes back. “So bloody what? Maybe …” She hesitates. “Maybe we have an open marriage! You didn’t think of
that
, did you?”

I’m so stunned, my mouth pops open like a fish. She’s
right. I didn’t think of that. An open marriage? Crikey. I never thought of Lottie as the open-marriage type.

“And, anyway, what does Lorcan know about anything?” Lottie starts on a fresh tirade. “Lorcan’s a twisted control freak who’s been muscling in and wants to steal Ben’s company from him.”

“Lottie—” I’m still so confused by this view of Lorcan that I don’t know what to say. “Are you sure?”

“Ben told me. That’s why Ben’s selling his company, because Lorcan told him not to. So let’s not trust the word of
Lorcan
, shall we?” She spits out “Lorcan” as though it’s despicable.

There’s another silence. I feel so many conflicting emotions I’m almost paralyzed. There’s a lingering astonishment at Lottie’s version of Lorcan. But the strongest feeling is remorse. Wave after wave of remorse. She’s right: I knew nothing about the situation. I assumed far too much.

Maybe I really don’t know my little sister after all.

“I’m sorry,” I say at last, my voice low and abject. “I’m so sorry. I just thought that you might not be over Richard yet. And that you might find Ben wasn’t the man for you. I thought you might suddenly regret marrying him. And I thought that if things had gone too far and you’d conceived a baby, then it would be the most almighty mess. But I was wrong. Obviously. Please, please forgive me. Lottie?” There’s silence down the phone. “Lottie?”

26
LOTTIE

I hate her. Why is she always right?
Why is she always right?

Tears have sprung to my eyes. I want to pour out the whole sorry story to her. I want to tell her that Ben
isn’t
the man for me, and I’m
not
over Richard, and I’ve never felt so miserable in all my life.

But still I can’t forgive her. I can’t let her off the hook. She’s the most controlling and bossy sister in the world, and she deserves punishment.

“Leave me alone!” I say, a catch in my throat. “Just leave me alone forever!”

I hang up. A moment later I can see her calling again, so I switch the phone off completely and hand it back to Nico.

“Here,” I say shortly. “And you can stop taking calls from my sister. You can stop meddling in my life. You can bloody well leave us alone.”

“Mrs. Parr,” begins Nico smoothly. “On behalf of the hotel, I would like to apologize for the slight confusion you have unfortunately experienced on your honeymoon. In recompense,
I offer you a deluxe weekend for two in one of our premium suites.”

“That’s all you can say?” I stare at him in disbelief. “After everything we’ve been through?”

“The deluxe weekend for two will include all meals and one snorkeling experience,” says Nico, apparently not hearing me. “In addition, may I remind you that, as winners of our Couples’ Quiz, you and your husband are invited to our gala prize ceremony this evening, where you will be awarded your Happy Couple of the Week trophy.” He gives a little bow. “Congratulations.”

“Happy Couple of the Week trophy?” I practically scream. “Are you kidding me? And
stop
looking at my chest!” I add, suddenly realizing my shirt has slipped.

I pick up my bra and start hooking it on as Nico discreetly leaves. My mind is like a hurricane. Lots of thoughts and emotions are whizzing dangerously around, and I feel like some of them might do some damage.
My marriage to Ben is a nonstarter. He couldn’t even see our consummation through. Fliss is an interfering COW. I still miss Richard. I really do miss Richard. I started the fire. It was me. I started it
. I feel a pang of anguish and give an uncontrollable sob. That’s almost the worst thing of all: I started the fire. For fifteen years I’ve had that memory as a comforting prop whenever life has gone wrong: at least that time, I saved the day. But now I know I didn’t. I
ruined
the day.

“Hi.” Ben enters the room, fully dressed, looking dapper and as if he’s squeezed in a quick shower.

“Hi,” I say miserably. There’s no point sharing my thoughts with him. He wouldn’t understand. “Just so you know, we’re supposed to go to a prize ceremony tonight and get our trophy. We’re Happy Couple of the Week.”

“I’m going to Zhernakov’s yacht,” Ben says, ignoring me. “They’re sending a boat for me,” he adds importantly.

“I’m coming too,” I say in sudden determination. “Wait for me.” I’m not missing out on an oligarch’s super-yacht. I’m going to go along with Ben and find the bar and drown all my sorrows, one by one, in a series of mojitos.

“You’re still coming?” He stares at me.

“I’m your wife,” I say pointedly. “And I want to see the yacht.”

“OK,” he says with bad grace. “I suppose you can come. But for God’s sake put some clothes on.”

“I wasn’t planning to come in my
bra
,” I retort irritably.

We’re arguing like an old married couple but we haven’t even managed to have sex. Bloody marvelous.

27
FLISS

An open marriage?

I’m so thunderstruck I’ve sunk down onto my suitcase, right in the middle of the hot, dusty pavement, ignoring the stream of passengers who have to divert around me.

“Ready?” says Lorcan, striding up with Richard and Noah, his eyes squinting against the blazing Greek sun. “I’ve arranged the fare. We need to get going.”

I’m too flummoxed to reply.

“Fliss?” He tries again.

“They’ve got an open marriage,” I say. “Can you believe it?”

Lorcan raises his eyebrows and whistles. “Ben will like that.”

“An
open marriage
?” Richard goggles at me.
“Lottie?”

“Exactly!”

“I can’t believe it.”

“It’s true. She just told me herself.”

Richard is silent for a few moments, breathing deeply. “That confirms it—I don’t really know her,” he says at last.
“I’ve been an idiot. It’s time to put all this to an end.” He holds out his hand to Noah. “Bye, little chap. It’s been good traveling with you.”

“Don’t go, Uncle Richard!” Noah flings his arms passionately around Richard’s legs, and for a moment I wish I could do that too. I’m going to miss him.

“Best of luck.” I hug him. “If I’m ever in San Francisco I’ll look you up.”

“Not a word to Lottie that I did this,” he says with a sudden fierceness. “She must never know any of it.”

“Not even
I love you, Lottie, More than a zloty
?” I say, trying to keep a straight face.

“Shut up.” He kicks my case.

“Don’t worry.” I touch his arm. “Not a word.”

“Good luck.” Lorcan shakes Richard’s hand. “Nice to know you.”

Richard heads toward the taxi rank, and I quell a sigh. If only Lottie knew. But there’s nothing I can do about it. My only priority right now is to make the hugest apology in the world. I’ve got my groveling kneepads on, all ready.

“Right, let’s go,” says Lorcan. He consults his phone. “Ben isn’t replying to my texts. Do you know where they are?”

“No idea. They were about to have sex when I interrupted.” I wince at my own conduct. Gradually, my haze of lunacy is lifting. I can see quite how badly I’ve been behaving. So what if they have sex? So what if they conceive a honeymoon baby? It’s
their life
.

“D’you think she’ll ever forgive me?” I say as we get into the taxi. I’m hoping that Lorcan will make some reassuring reply like,
Of course she will; the bond of sisterhood is too strong to break with a mere bagatelle like this
. Instead, he wrinkles his nose and shrugs deeply.

“Is she the forgiving type?”

“No.”

“Well.” He shrugs again. “Unlikely.”

My heart drops. I’m the most misguided big sister there ever was. Lottie will never speak to me again. And it’s my own fault.

I dial her number and go straight to voicemail.

“Lottie,” I say for the zillionth time. “I’m so, so, so sorry. I have to explain. I have to see you. I’m coming to the hotel. I’ll call you when I’m there, OK?” I put my phone away and drum my fingers impatiently. We’ve joined the main road but we’re going at a modest speed, by Greek standards. I lean forward to the driver. “Can we go faster? I need to see my sister, pronto. Can we go any faster?”

I’d forgotten how far the Amba Hotel is from the airport. It seems like several hours before we’re arriving, climbing out of the taxi, slamming the doors, and running up the marble steps.

“Let’s give our luggage to a bellman,” I say breathlessly. “We can get it later.”

“Fine.” Lorcan summons a bellman with a trolley and swings our cases up onto it. “Let’s go.”

He’s almost more impatient than I am. He gradually became more and more urgent and tetchy in the car, consulting his watch and trying to contact Ben.

“It’s nearly close of play,” he keeps saying. “I
need
these signatures scanned in and sent over.”

Now, as we arrive in the familiar marble lobby, he turns to me expectantly. “Where will they be?”

“I don’t know!” I riposte. “How should I know? In their suite?”

Through the glass doors at the back of the lobby, I can see the shimmering, inviting blue of the sea, and Noah has spotted it too.

“The sea! The sea!” He wrenches at my hand. “Come on! The sea!”

“I know, darling!” I rein him back. “In a minute.”

“Can we have a smoothie?” he adds, spotting a waiter carrying a tray of several pink smoothie-type drinks.

“Later,” I promise. “We’ll have smoothies and we’ll go to the buffet and you can swim in the sea. But first we need to find Aunt Lottie. Keep your eyes open.”

“Ben,” Lorcan is saying curtly into his phone. “I’m here. Where are you?” He rings off and turns to me. “Where’s their suite?”

“Upstairs. I think I remember …” I’m leading him swiftly across the expanse of marble, dodging a group of tanned men in pale suits, when a voice assails my ears.

“Fliss? Felicity?”

I wheel round to see a familiar plump figure hurrying through the lobby on patent shoes. Shit.

“Nico!” I say, trying to keep my chin up. “Hi, there. And thanks for everything.”

“ ‘Thanks for everything’?” He seems almost apoplectic. “Do you realize the damage I have done in trying to carry out your wishes? Never have I known such farce. Never have I known such shenanigans.”

“Right.” I gulp. “Er … sorry. I appreciate it.”

“Your sister, she is beside herself with rage.”

“I know.” I wince. “Nico, I’m so sorry. But I’ll be expressing my gratitude with a very big feature about you in the magazine. Very big. Very flattering. A double-page spread.” I’ll write it myself, I vow. Not one critical word. “There’s just one more
tiny
thing you could help us with—”

“Help you?” His voice rises indignantly. “
Help you?
I have the gala ceremony to prepare for! I am late already. Fliss, I have to go. Please do not create any more chaos in my hotel.”

Bristling all over, he marches away, and Lorcan raises his eyebrows at me.

“You’ve made a friend there.”

“He’ll be all right. I’ll sweeten him up with a glowing review.” I’m looking frantically around the lobby, trying to remember it. “OK, I think the Oyster Suite is on the top floor. And the lifts are this way. Come on!”

As we’re traveling up in the lift, Lorcan tries Ben’s phone yet again.

“He
knew
I was coming,” he mutters ominously. “He should have been ready to sign. This is
so
unhelpful.”

“We’ll be there in a minute!” I retort irritably. “Stop stressing.”

As we arrive at the top floor, I hare out of the lift, dragging Noah by the hand and not stopping to check any signs. I head to the door at the end of the corridor and bang on it as hard as I can.

“Lottie! It’s me!” I notice a tiny doorbell and ring that too, for good measure. “Come out! Please! I want to apologize! I’m so sorry! I’M SO SORRY!” I thump on the door again, and Noah, delighted, joins in.

“Come out!” he yells, banging on the door. “Come out! Come out!”

Suddenly the door is flung open and a strange man wrapped in a towel stares at me.

“Yes?” he says bad-temperedly.

I stare back, disconcerted. This doesn’t look like the photo I saw of Ben. Nothing like.

“Er … Ben?” I try anyway.

“No,” he says flatly.

My mind is racing. She’s in an open marriage. Does that mean— Oh my God. Are they having a
threesome
?

“Are you with … Ben and Lottie?” I say cautiously.

“No, I’m with my wife.” He glowers at me. “Who are you?”

“This
is
the Oyster Suite?”

“No, the Pearl Suite.” He points to a discreet sign by the door, which I totally missed.

“Ah. Right. Sorry.” I back away.

“I thought you knew this place,” says Lorcan.

“I did. I do. I was sure—” I break off as something catches my eye through a nearby window. It’s a narrow window with a view of the sea, and I can just glimpse a jetty decorated with flowers. Standing in the middle of the jetty is a couple that looks very familiar—