Page 106 of Meet Me Under the Mistletoe
“Who invited Madonna?” quipped Ameerah, nodding in Pip’s direction.
Katie sniggered.
“Her tits aren’t pointy enough,” said Nory.
“She’s very committed, isn’t she?” added Dev.
“That’s why they pay me the big bucks, sweet cheeks,” Pippa replied dryly to Dev. “I don’t give a fuck about your carpal tunnel. I ordered five hundred macarons and I expect five hundred macarons. I’ll be counting.”
“I don’t think that last part was directed at me, was it?” Dev looked doubtfully at Ameerah.
“Pippa, try not to make eye contact with us when you’re being the queen of bloody everything, it’s very disconcerting,” Ameerah admonished.
“Sorry,” said Pippa. “It helps my focus if I’m looking at someone. Sorry, Dev, you’re not expected to produce five hundred macarons. Put some bleach down it, then. Yep. Yep. Top up the perfume in the toilets while you’re at it, would you. Someone’s gone walkabout with the Marc Jacobs eau de toilette.”
Guy had been looking increasingly relaxed throughout the meal. His was a face that wore the levels of drunkenness like a series of masks. His expression had taken on a familiar sardonic sneer, the one he wore when he had reached the belligerence level of inebriation.
“Aren’t you two supposed to be doing the best man speech together?” Nory asked.
“Hmmm,” Jeremy agreed grimly.
“I still owe Guy a sock in the jaw for punching you the other day,” said Katie curtly. “I almost hope he does start, so I’ve got an excuse.”
“To be fair, that punch was meant for me,” said Isaac. “Jeremy got in the way of his swing.”
“He shouldn’t have been swinging for anyone. I work with primates who have more self-control than Guy.” Katie’s expression was dark. “He looks at Nory like he wants to eat her for dinner.”
Nory flushed. She felt Isaac stiffen beside her.
Jenna’s father finished his speech and handed over to the best men. Guy got to his feet and swayed as he took the microphone.
“Okay, I’m up.” Jeremy dropped his napkin on the table and headed over to where Guy was standing.
Jeremy put Guy in charge of the PowerPoint presentation that beamed onto a white screen erected at the back of the banquet hall, and he took over the bulk of the speech delivery himself. Nory felt sick with nerves the whole time they were up there, and when she looked at Jenna, she saw the rigid smile plastered on her face and the tension around her eyes.
“It was Guy you were hiding from that first night, wasn’t it?” Isaac asked.
Nory bit the inside of her lip. She was afraid that if she took her eyes off the two men at the front of the hall, something dreadful would happen, as though her overseeing things could influence the outcome. She sighed inwardly. She so didn’t want to get into this.
“Yes,” she said. They sat very close, close enough to speak quietly into each other’s ears and not be overheard. The hall was in noisy rapture at the embarrassing photographs of Charleson the big screen, exploding into laughter as each excruciating story hit its punch line.
“You can tell me,” said Isaac. “I’m not going to judge you on your past.”
“You promise?”
Isaac took her hand and raised it to his lips, laying a kiss on her knuckles, which set little fireworks off in her stomach. “Promise.”
Nory gave him the brief outline of the sordid events after Tristan’s funeral. “I honestly had no idea he was married. We hadn’t seen each other for years and it didn’t come up.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” said Isaac.
“It doesn’t make me any less guilty.”
“You can’t be held accountable for something you didn’t know about. Does his wife know? Is that why she left?”
“No. Camille left because she was tired of Guy’s shit.”
They stopped talking and joined in the applause as the best man speech came to an end with the toast “To shits and giggles!” and the microphone was handed to Charles. A cacophonous scraping of chairs filled the hall as everyone turned back to face the top table.
