Page 3 of The Wedding Game

I realise what I’m about to say might be quite offensive and, given that he knows the bride and groom well enough to be an usher, Imightneed to stop talking here.

‘Go on,’ he prompts again. He’s walking towards me now, the sunlight filtering down on us through a wisp of cloud.

‘You can’t tell the bride or groom, because it might be a bit rude.’

‘I won’t,’ he says. ‘I’m curious now, though.’

‘We think we’re fill-in guests.’

He narrows his eyes; they’re brown – like mine.

‘You know the drill,’ I say. ‘You’re a bride, you’ve bought a one-hundred-seater guest package, but you don’tquiteknow enough people …’

He laughs. ‘Oh,’ he replies slowly, ‘thatisquite rude.’

‘But true?’

He laughs. ‘Yeah, probably.’ He sips his glass of champagne. I sip mine.

‘I’m Chris,’ he says and offers his hand to me. His eyes are warm, his skin tanned and his suit fits him very well.

‘Lexie,’ I offer in return and feel the softness of his skin as his hand grasps mine for a second before he lets go.

‘So, Lexie,’ he says, ‘what do you do when you’re not crashing weddings?’

‘I don’tdoanything currently.’

‘Are you a Lottery winner?’ Chris asks with a mock-serious expression.

‘Sadly, no. I’m … between jobs.’

‘From what to what?’

‘Pardon?’

‘What job have you left and what job do you want next? And …’ he says, leaning in conspiratorially, ‘is this the most boring conversation you’ve had all day?’

I laugh loudly and he does the same.

‘Sorry,’ he goes on. ‘I’m not very good at small talk. That’s why I’ve escaped out here.’ In saying that, he’s endeared himself to me even more – and he’s already good-looking in that boy-next-door-grew-up-fit kind of way that men are prone to.

‘You’re doing fine so far,’ I confide. ‘As an usher, have youhad to engage in lots of inane small talk today with people you’ll never ever see again?’

‘Somuch small talk,’ Chris agrees.

‘So, let’s not do small talk then,’ I say. ‘Let’s do … Big Talk.’

‘Big Talk?’ he queries with an uncertain laugh, then plays along by starting first. ‘OK. Are you married, Lexie?’

‘We’re going straight in, are we?’

‘Yep. It’s quick-fire Big Talk,’ he declares. ‘Round one.’

‘You’re good at this,’ I tell him, then I fall into line. ‘No. I’m not married. We’ve just established I’m single, and parked at the back of the room for that very reason.’

‘Or because they don’t have enough real friends?’ Chris reminds me darkly, and I laugh.

‘Why aren’t you married?’ I fire back.

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