Page 88 of Something Borrowed

Chapter

Eleven

Rafferty

I closemy diary and smile at the dark-haired man behind the desk. “I think that’s it, Giannis. Thank you so much.”

The hotel manager smiles and gets to his feet. “It was no problem. You are happy with everything?”

“Totally.” I’m also confused about why Leo was so concerned and wanted me here early.

I’ve been shown all over the stunning property and seen more of their hotel rooms than their cleaners. Everything is perfect, and Giannis has been calm and methodical, with a tight grasp of every aspect of the wedding.

I have no doubt that everything will run as smoothly as fate allows. All wedding planners factor in the vagaries of rain, illness, and family warfare. It’s what gives us grey hair. But we’re super tuned in to organisational problems, and I’ve seen no sign of anything like that here despite Leo’s worries.

Smiling, I say, “Well, I’d better go and find my best man.”

He blinks. “Yours?”

I run back over my words and blanch. “No, sorry.Leo’sbest man. My best friend.”

“Ah, I wondered for a second if you were getting married.”

“Not today, Satan,” I say grimly.

He laughs. “You are a wedding planner. Do you not want to get married?”

“It’s a bit likeThe Wizard of Oz. I’ve seen behind the curtain.” I shudder. “And there are more troubles in marriage than a little old man with a slide projector. I believe in matrimony, but mainly for other people.”

“Maybe that will change for you.”

“Maybe if a gay miracle happens.” He laughs, and I grin at him. “Are you married?”

“Yes. For twelve years now. We have four children.”

“Lucky you,” I say lightly and completely insincerely. A childhood spent witnessing Rollo and Saoirse stomping all over the marriage sacrament with their designer boots and then a working life witnessing marital meltdowns on an industrial scale has soured me.

I dismiss my dark thoughts, shake hands with Giannis, and return to my room. It’s cool and shady, and the open patio doors send the gauzy curtains rippling in the breeze. There’s no sign of my surprise roommate.

I look around as if he’s going to pop up like a surprise pixie, but nothing. Then I hear a familiar laugh and a splash from outside and go to the balcony. The swimming pool is below our window, and I spot Stan sitting on the side dangling his feet in the azure water.

He tilts his face to the sun, a smile hovering on his full lips, and I swallow hard, my mouth dry. He’s so funny and wise and just my Stan. Sometimes I miss his beauty because we’re together so much, but he is gorgeous, and I notice a man standing to the side staring at him as well.

He's standing in the shadows, so I can’t see his face, yet there’s something familiar about him. He strolls over to the pool edge and says something, and Stan laughs again, and a jolt of recognition startles me. It’s Chris, one of Stan’s old boyfriends.

I haven’t seen Chris in a few years, which was fine with me. I’d tried to get on with him, but he couldn’t stand me, and if I were in a room, he’d scurry away as if I were a mass murderer. Their relationship lasted a few months. When Stan finished it, I’d breathed a sigh of relief.

My fingers twinge. I’ve fisted my hands so tight that my knuckles are white. Chris is now crouched low to talk with Stan. I’m in motion before my brain catches up, striding out of the room and taking the stairs in my rush.

The bright sun dazzles me when I exit by the pool. I fumble for my sunglasses and after I put them on, I note guests dotted around the pool. Unlike other hotel pools that tend to resemble rugby scrums as guests scramble for sunbeds, this setting is tranquil and peaceful. Another laugh sounds out, and I grit my teeth. Stan is now standing holding his cane and talking to Chris. He’s wearing pink patterned swim shorts that are hanging on his narrow hips, showing off his long brown legs, and he’s bare-chested with sweat gleaming in his chest hair.

I pace over. “Stanley,” I say.

“Raff, there you are,” Stan says, turning in my direction. The smile he gives me appeases me because it’s my smile, the one that is unguarded and sweet. “One of the hotel staff showed me down to the pool. I knew you’d find me.”

Chris rolls his eyes at me. “I thought you wouldn’t be far behind,” he drawls. “It’s as inevitable as the rain in England.”

“Raff, you remember Chris, don’t you?”

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