Page 105 of Something Borrowed

“That’s nice.” I reach out, and he puts his hand in mine. “I love you, Uncle Pat.”

“Love you too, mate.”

He squeezes my hand, and I cock my head as his footsteps get lost in the noise. The foyer is ever louder now, full of laughter and excited talking, and I try to quell my feeling of nervousness.

“Stan,” a voice calls.

“Yes?” I say warily, turning in the direction it came from.

“There you are.” The voice gets closer. “It’s me Leo.”

“Hey,” I say in relief. “Have you seen Raff?”

“Five-foot-eleven redhead?”

“Strawberry blond,” I correct automatically.

“Sure, and I’m Eric Bana.”

“You wish.”

“I do indeed. To be honest, Rich might wish it more, but he’s stuck with little old me. You’re looking very spiffy, Stanley.”

I glare in his direction. “It was a trick, considering how little space I had to get dressed. Sharing a room was unexpected.”

“Oh.”

“Yes—oh. What were youthinking, Leo?”

He grabs my arm and steers me away. We end up outside. The sun is already warm, and the sound of the surf is loud. “Well?” I snap.

He sighs in an aggrieved manner that makes my mouth twitch. “We thought it would help.”

“Help what? My travel budget?”

“You and Rafferty. We thought it might accelerate things.”

“I’m not a bloody car. And why are you making me sound like a parrot constantly repeating your words?”

“Say, ‘Pretty Polly’.”

“Fuck off.”

He snorts and grabs my hand. I can feel the warmth of the ring on his finger and the scratch of the diamonds. “We wantedto speed things up between you and Raff,” he huffs. “The two of you were moving like decrepit tortoises.”

I pause, my heart hammering. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sure, you do, Pinocchio.” He pinches my nose. “You’re in love with each other. You’ve been in love with him for years, Stan.”

I don’t even bother to deny it again. Leo knows me too well. “So? That doesn’t mean Raff needs to be dragged into your ridiculous plot.”

“It wasn’t just mine.”

“This has your sticky fingers all over it. You’ve been reading the bonkbuster books, haven’t you?”

“I can’t help it if they’re the only things airport bookshops sell. It was either E.L James or Colleen Hoover. Be thankful I’m not making you live in one of the latter’s plots. Your dress sense would be terrible, and you’d be dreadfully depressed.”

“This conversation is getting me there very quickly.”

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