Page 65 of Something Borrowed

“Do you want me to show you to your table?” he asks. “Or do you want to get a drink?”

“Table, I think,” I say, hearing voices behind us. “Are people starting to come in?”

“Yeah.”

“Definitely table.”

He leads me across the room, his arm warm and strong beneath my hand. The impulse to caress him is so strong that I have to clench my fingers into a fist.

After helping me get settled, he offers to fetch me a drink. “Usual?”

I nod and hear Richard say, “My Aunt Betty just came in. I’ll get Leo a mojito. He’s going to need it.”

“I love how he knows you, Leo,” I murmur.

Raff says earnestly, “That’s love and marriage, though, isn’t it? Knowing your other half with all the good and the bad. It’s lovely. Okay, I’ll get you an apple and rhubarb cooler, Stan.”

I nod and hear Raff and Richard walk away, talking.

Leo says, “He has more rosy ideals about marriage than David Foster.”

“Are you surprised?”

Leo huffs. “Less endearing is his steadfast belief that it’s not for him.”

“He’ll never get married.”

“I’ve never understood how he can arrange all these weddings believing that they’ll end happily, when you and I both know it’s a crapshoot with the best relationships.”

“He’s quirky.”

“That’s certainly one way to put it.”

I sigh. “He says he’s too much like Rollo and Saoirse.”

“He’s nothing like them. He’s certainly never done a line on the side of the sink like his mother did last week at the salon.”

I snort. “They’ll never change.”

“It doesn’t help that they’re so fucking charming.”

“Like their son.”

“Hmm, his persistence in not taking what he wants is not quite so charming.”

“Leo,” I say warningly, and he tuts.

“I don’t know why I’m bothering talking to you. You’re just set on cheerful obliviousness.” I frown, and he changes the subject. “Is Bennett coming?”

“I think so. He’s at work so he might be late.”

“Well, work’s loss is our gain.”

“Oh my god.Leo.”

“Last week, he told me that he hoped I would up my game when I married Richard, as his family had expectations of me.”

I groan. “I’m so sorry.” I hesitate. “Do I want to know your reply?”

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