Page 55 of Wilder at Heart
Oh. There he is. Another heavy sigh, and then: ‘I don’t want to speak out of turn. But I still care about you, Nor. Of course I do. You’re my little Nor. Nor Nor Nor.’ There’s a bang that makes me flinch. ‘Ouch. Fucker. Nor. Look. You’re so lovely and I know that you… don’t trust people easily. You don’t get involved with guys easily. And I just think… I think you could do better, okay?
‘There. I’ve said it. I think he’s a twat and a fuckingman-whore, and I don’t like the idea of his paws all over you. I mean, the guy could be crawling with STDs. I just… [extended silence. More heavy breathing] I don’t like it, Nor. I know I have no right to… Lucy said I should get over it. But… I mean, I’m overyou.’ Nice. ‘But I’m not overit. I can’t just not care about what happens to you, and I want you to be happy, okay, Nor? And I just… I just don’t see him making you happy, that’s all. Thought I should say something cos I care about you. Okay. Hello? Okay, night night.’
I stare at the screen in utter disbelief. What thefuckwas that?
So many emotions are crowding into my brain. My heart. I’m thrilled and outraged and confused and indignant and triumphant and touched.
Because Iknewit. I knew Jonathan was pissed off when he saw Theo’s hands on me last night, and when he saw us leavetogether after I dragged Theo over to tell the group we were making a run for it. Men are so basic. I threw out some bait, and look at that.
Reeled him right in.
And yeah, I heard the part where he said he was over me, but he drunk-dialled me at 2am, didn’t he? So the evidence is to the contrary.
I got under his skin last night.
There’s still hope for us.
The only reasonI feel like the gods are smiling on me at the moment is because the following week is full on for both me and Theo, which keeps us out of each other’s hair. I spend two nights in Cornwall for a site visit and planning session with a couple who are getting married down there in September. I also have three other weddings happening before Miles and Saoirse’s. The brides are all fairly high maintenance, so I spend my train journey to Cornwall and back working on spreadsheets and budgets and minute-by-minute schedules of their wedding days.
All of which is good, because it keeps my mind off the fact that I’m hanging by a thread, trying to keep my fake boyfriend at arm’s length. It would be so easy to give in.
So easy to slide onto his lap in the flat one evening and let him make me feel good.
And I know he’d make me feel really good. There’s no doubt in my mind about that. And right now I’m feeling quite the opposite. I’m frustrated. I’m antsy. Jonathan’s message has me obsessing over whether I’m on his mind. I didn’t answer it. I decided he’d probably have regretted leaving it in the cold lightof day, and I didn’t want to give him a reason to resent me. I figured dignified silence was the best option.When they go low…
But the biggest problem on my mind right now, the one that keeps rising to the surface of my consciousness, pushing down the wedding juggling and the motives of my ex-boyfriend and everything else, is that on Friday we fly to the south of France for Miles and Saoirse’s joint stag and hen weekend.
I’m there mainly to work—making sure this weekend goes beautifully falls under my remit as their wedding planner—but as Theo’s quote unquote girlfriend, I’ll be sharing a suite with him. According to Saoirse, she and Miles are very overexcited about our fledgling ‘relationship’. While I can’t imagine Miles getting overexcited about anything, aside from his girls, her trust in us makes me feel sick. She’s insistent that I be there as part of the family too. Which means I’ll need to keep up a sufficiently convincing lovey-dovey front with Theo the entire weekend, while also managing not to accidentally sleep with him.
Gulp.
I’m not sure how the hell this is going to work. Before this weekend, I would have said it would be fine, but I can’t deny the heat between us has escalated, and the idea of sharing a bed with Romeo is unconscionable.
Of attempting to fall asleep when his body is inches from mine.
Of having nowhere to escape to when my sex hormones and I need space from him.
Dear God.
None of this is healthy. I need to keep my eye on the prize: winning Jonathan back. Having inappropriate feelings for my temporary fake boyfriend and flatmate is plain unhelpful. Yes, he’s gorgeous. He’s available. He’s interested—in a physicalrelationship, that is. His interest is as temporary as his fake-boyfriend status, and that’s not what I want.
I don’t want a flight risk like Theo Montague whose interest will wane after a few rounds of action. I want a future. A soulmate. A safe haven. And Theo, bless his pecs, can never be that.
When I get back to London, Theo seems committed to upholding his promise not to badger me for sex. He’s sweet and polite and a little distracted. From his brief chats with Miles, it seems as though his dad hasn’t mentioned any of Theo’s thoughts about Manhattan to his brother, and Theo’s determined to grab some time with Miles this weekend for a chat about it. If he can get Miles on board, his parents should be far easier to convince.
So, for a couple of nights, we find ourselves work partners, as we sit side-by-side at the kitchen table with our laptops. While I maniacally plug away at wedding admin and Slacking with my semi-virtual team, Theo puts together a high-level vision for the Montague Group’s Manhattan portfolio. He turns to me and asks my advice from time to time, and talks me through his plan. I act as devil’s advocate and put him through the ringer until he has a concrete plan in place.
It’s strong. It’s seriously strong. And I hope he gets a decent crack at Miles this weekend. I hope I can do my bit to support him, to play the loyal girlfriend and hope that my faith in Theo conveys just a little that he deserves a shot at a proper piece of the Montague pie.
Otherwise, our attempts to fake it this weekend will be as pointless as they are painful.
CHAPTER 22
Nora
If I was getting married, this is how I’d do my hen weekend.
Light on organised fun: check.
