Page 67 of Something Borrowed

I wrinkle my brow. “That name rings a bell. Didn’t she sleep with the groom at his wedding reception last year? She was famous for it.”

“I know. It was like meeting Katie Price for the rest of the season. She’s turned over a new leaf, apparently.”

“She needs to turn over an entire tree if she wants people to forget that one. After the bride threw the cake, it took you six goes to get the cake out of our suits.”

He snorts. “Funny boy,” he murmurs, and I feel fingers running through my curls. “I like your hair this long,” he says and then taps my shoulder. “I’ll bring you another drink back. Be good.”

“When am I not?”

He snorts. “The party will be over by the time I finish enumerating the occasions. See you in a minute.”

I settle back in my chair, wishing Hump was here. It’s awkward being on your own at these things, especially when you can’t see anyone, and I can always talk to Hump to ease my awkwardness. He’s a better listener than most people.

“Hello?”

I turn my head in the direction of the light voice. “Hello?” I say a little hesitantly.

“I think we’re at the same table as you,” a woman says.

“Lovely,” I say faintly.

The chair beside mine pulls out, and there’s a clatter and a curse.

I realise what’s happened. “Sorry, that’s my stick.”

There are a few seconds of silence and then she says, “I’m Fleur.”

Ah. The groom stealer and cake thrower.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Stan.”

“You know, your face is very familiar. Have we met before?”

“I think I was at the same wedding as you last year.”

There’s a silence, and then she says cautiously, “Which wedding?”

“Oh, erm—” I can’t fucking remember the couple’s names. I attend so many weddings as Raff’s guest. It’s halved our weekly grocery bills. All I can recall is the flying cake. “The cake was very nice,” I finally say and blanch. I rush on. “But then when isn’t it? Although once there was this fruitcake with brandied raisins and icing and—” I realise I’m babbling. “Lovely to finally meet you,” I finish quickly.

“Oh dear. Stan’s mouth is moving. Not a good sign.” Raff’s voice comes from behind me, and I grimace in his direction.Save me, I say mentally, and I can almost feel his amusement.

“Rafferty.” Fleur’s voice is eager. It’s either because Raff is exceptionally charming, or she’s relieved to be free of my conversation. “How are you?”

“Same as usual.”

“Ah, charming and pretty, then.”

“And noisy,” I add firmly. “Very,verynoisy.”

She ignores me. “I haven’t seen you since Oxford and the Pattersons’ wedding. That was a lovely wedding.”

Raff and Fleur make small talk and after a moment, warm breath stirs my hair, and Raff whispers. “She didn’t steal that groom.” He presses a glass into my hand. “I’ve got to circulate. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Don’t be long. You know how eternal the seconds are without you,” I say grimly, and he chuckles.

I pass my hand cautiously over the top of my glass to check for straws or drink decorations. It’s never a pleasant moment when they go up your nose or poke you in the eye. There’snothing there so I take a sip, savouring the tart taste. Fleur is now conversing with other people so others have obviously been seated at the table. They talk on, ignoring my presence, so I clutch my stick and attempt to look engaged. It’s hard because they seem to be discussing a problem with a car park.

“And when I got in the lift, there was a couple shagging,” Fleur the groom stealer says in a scandalised tone. “My partner Patrick objected, but the man told him to take another lift. I wouldn’t have minded, but that was the only one.”

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