Sophie Kinsella: Wedding Night

“Lie.” I nod.

“Sex on the district attorney’s desk?”

“Total lie.”

“I knew it!” She turns to her husband triumphantly. “Didn’t I tell you?” She puts the silver crown on her head and holds the trophy aloft. “This belongs to us , I think. We’re the Happy Couple of the Week; thank you, everybody―”

“For Christ’s sake , Melissa,” snaps Matt. “No, we’re bloody not.”

Richard, meanwhile, is gazing at me tensely. “So you really haven’t …?”

“Not once.”

“Yesss!” Richard’s air punch is the most ecstatic I’ve ever seen. “In your face . Re-sult! Yesssss!”

He looks more aggressive than I’ve ever seen him. God, I love him.

“You flew halfway across the world for me.” I nestle into his shoulder again.

“Of course.”

“And then you flew to Greece.”

“Of course.”

I don’t know why I ever thought Richard wasn’t romantic. I don’t know why we ever split up. My ear is pressed against his chest, and I can hear the familiar, soothing thump of his heartbeat. This is where I want to be forever. I’ve tuned out the rest of the world, although I’m dimly aware of the others’ voices.

“You can get an annulment,” Fliss keeps saying. “Do you see, Lottie? This is brilliant! You can get an annulment .”

“It’s put the sausage in the cupcake,” Lorcan keeps saying. “Cupcake.”

FLISS

Well, she was right about the sunsets. I’ve never seen anything as spectacular as this in my life. The sun is slowly glowing down the sky, and it’s not just sinking, it’s shooting rays of pink and orange with such dramatic force, I’m put in mind of one of Noah’s superheroes. “Sunset” sounds quite passive, quite nothing-y. This is more like sun-pow! Sun-take-that!

I look down at Noah’s face, all rosy in the light, and I think again, He’ll be OK . For the first time in ages, I don’t feel angst or stress or anger. He’ll be OK. He’ll sort himself out. I’ll sort myself out. It’s all good.

We’ve had an odd time. Kind of cathartic and uncomfortable, embarrassing and joyful, awkward and wonderful, all at the same time. Nico rustled us up a table at the beach-side restaurant, and all five of us sat around eating meze to make your taste buds sing with joy and slow-cooked lamb to make your insides whimper with ecstasy.

The food here really is good. Must make sure I big it up in my piece.

There were a lot of questions. There were a lot of stories. There was a lot of kissing.

Lottie and I are … OK. I think. There are still sore spots and rough patches between us, but there’s also been a kind of revelation. We’re on the way to a gradual understanding about who we are to each other, which maybe we’ll look at properly later. (Or not bother and just charge on with life, probably more likely.)

Lorcan was the quiet star. He steered the conversation whenever it was threatening to become awkward, and he ordered fantastic wine, and he kept a kind of humorous knee-nudging thing going on with me, which I liked. I like him. I don’t just fancy him, I like him.

As for Ben, he’s disappeared. Which is understandable. Once it became plain that he’d been publicly rejected for another man by his brand-new wife, he skedaddled. Can’t blame him. I expect he’s found solace at a bar somewhere.

Richard and Lottie have gone for a walk down the beach, and Noah is skimming stones at the water’s edge, so it’s just Lorcan and me, sitting on a low wall with our bare feet in the sand. The smell of cooking from the restaurant is mingled with the salty sea air and the faint aroma of his aftershave, which is bringing back all sorts of memories.

I don’t just like him, I fancy him. Really quite a lot.

“Oh, wait. I got you something,” he says suddenly.

“You got me something?” I stare at him.

“It’s not much. I put it aside … Hold on.” He heads toward the restaurant and I watch him, intrigued. A few moments later he comes back, holding a plant in a pot. A little olive tree in a pot, to be precise.

“For your patio,” he says, and I stare at him in disbelief.

“You bought that for me?” I’m so touched, tears spring to my eyes. I can’t remember the last time someone bought something for me.

“You need something,” he says gravely. “You need … a start.”

He couldn’t have put it better. I need a start. As I look up again, his eyes are so warm I feel something stumble inside me.

“I don’t have anything for you.”

“You already gave me something. Clarity.” He pauses. “I thought I’d give you peace.” He fingers the olive leaves. “What’s done is done.”

What’s done is done . The words resonate in my brain, round and round. And then I get to my feet.

There’s something I have to do, right now. I detach my memory stick from the chain around my neck and look at it. All my pain and anger toward Daniel seems to be contained in this one tiny piece of metal. It feels toxic. It’s contaminating me. It has to go.

I head briskly to the shallows and put a hand on Noah’s shoulder. As he looks up, I smile.

“Hi, darling. I’ve got something for you to skim.” I hand him the memory stick.

“Mummy!” He looks up at me, his eyes wide with shock. “This is a computer thing!”

“I know.” I nod. “But it’s a computer thing I don’t need anymore. Just throw it in the sea, Noah. As far as you can.”

I watch as he takes aim and skims it. Three bounces and it’s gone, into the Aegean Sea. Gone, gone, gone, really gone.

I walk slowly back up the beach to Lorcan, relishing the feel of my bare feet on the sand.

“So.” He reaches out and entwines his fingers in mine.

“So.” I’m about to suggest a walk along the beach, when Ben’s voice hits the back of my head.

“Lorcan. There you are. At bloody last.”

I don’t even need to look to know that he’s drunk, and I feel a squirm of sympathy. It can’t be easy for him.

“Hi, Ben,” says Lorcan, getting to his feet. “You OK?”

“I met with Zhernakov today. On his yacht.” Ben eyes both of us expectantly, as though waiting for a reaction. “I met him on his yacht,” he repeats. “Drank some Krug, shot the breeze, you know.…”

“Great.” Lorcan nods politely. “So you’re selling after all.”

“Maybe. Yes.” Ben sounds aggressive. “Why not?”

“Shame you couldn’t have let me know that before I spent weeks on those refinancing and restructuring agreements. They’re all a bit irrelevant now, aren’t they?”

“No. I mean … yes.” Ben seems confused. “Thing is …” His swagger dips a little. “Yuri and I made an agreement. A gentleman’s agreement. But now …” He wipes his face. “He’s already sent me an email I don’t understand.…” He holds out his BlackBerry to Lorcan, who ignores it and gazes at Ben, his expression unreadable.

“You really want to sell,” he says quietly. “The company that your father built up over years and years. You’re just letting it go.”

“It’s not like that.” Ben glares at him. “Yuri says nothing will change for the company.”

“Nothing will change?” Lorcan bursts into laughter. “And you bought that?”

“He’s interested in developing new projects!” says Ben hotly. “He thinks it’s a great little company!”

“You think Yuri Zhernakov is interested in creating a new aspirational paper range for the middle-class consumer?” Lorcan shakes his head. “If you believe that you’re even more naïve than I thought.