Page 9 of Always the Bridesmaid

‘You need to get in the pool, buddy,’ Jake says, leaving my side, tapping his brother on the shoulder and making his way with Drew toward Brooks.

I see it coming and I’m only surprised that Brooks doesn’t – which shows how bad his hangover must be. Brooks yells as he is rolled off the edge of his sun lounger, crashing into the pool with an enormous splash, his beer and shades going in with him. When he resurfaces, he is guffawing.

This is what I’ve been so excited about coming into this week, perhaps even more so than the wedding itself. Time with my friends, together as a group – my favorite time in the world.

Amongst the melee, Edmond appears. Whilst not as old a friend as the others, Edmond – who by happy coincidence is the executive chef at a Michelin restaurant just a few blocks away from the law firm where I work – has become a fixture at gatherings of our tribe. He is the reason Becky moved to New York, transferring from his London restaurant to his Manhattan venture after the breakdown of her first marriage.

Edmond is five feet eleven but has a Mediterranean svelteness that makes him look taller. Much like his wife, Amy, who now rises from her rattan seat at a poolside table to greet me, Edmond is elegant and refined in that stereotypical way we expect of the French. Parisienne chic.

Whilst the others around the pool are lounging topless (the men) and in swimwear (the women), Edmond is wearing a white T-shirt with Bermuda-style shorts and Amy wears a chic kimono over a one-piece, a large wide-brim hat and Chanel cat-eye shades.

After saying their bonjours and saluts, Edmond and Amy resume their positions at the table, both sipping blush under the cover of a parasol.

‘I have anticipated an extra glass,’ Edmond says with his French-American lilt, his native tongue mixed with years of New York twang. He fills a wine glass with blush as he speaks, then holds up a second empty glass and asks Charlie, ‘Will you join us?’

Charlie makes a show of looking at the watch on his wrist. ‘Well, the sun is over the yard’s arm. Go on then, Eddie.’

Eddie? Yard’s arm what now?

Rolling my eyes behind my tinted glasses, I make my way to the table, trying not to get splashed as Brooks pops up on his arms and leaps out of the pool in one easy, smooth move.

‘Ah, this must be the infamous Sarah we’ve heard so much about.’

The owner of the voice I don’t recognize comes walking out of the house through the bi-folding doors behind me, causing me to turn and be confronted with what I can only describe as a very beautiful specimen.

A new person.

I beam as I hold out my hand, shamelessly enjoying the view of the man’s deliciously dark skin, kind teddy-bear eyes and, yes, his toned body that could rival that of Brooks. I am pleased for the covers over my eyes and only hope they disguise my ogling.

‘All good, I hope,’ I say, finishing with a reflexive giggle that I recognize from my hormonal teenage years.

‘In all the right places,’ the man says with a smile, revealing perfect, perfect teeth. ‘I’m Cash.’ He twists toward the door, where another very attractive man is stepping onto the decking. ‘And this is Will.’

Will is also tall but much less buff and heads over to us holding two flutes of something bubbly. He hands off one glass to Cash.

Ah, I think. The best ones are always gay.

‘I’m Sarah,’ I say with a smile. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

‘It’s all ours,’ Will says, leaning in to kiss my cheek, smelling divine.

As I take my seat at the poolside table, I accept the glass of blush from Edmond, pleased that Charlie takes his glass and goes to sit on the end of Jake’s sun lounger, rather than sitting at the table. I hum my appreciation of the wine and the situation.

From my seat, I cast my gaze across fields of green surrounding the property, which lead to hillsides of vines. This has been a great choice of accommodation, but mostly I’m grateful to be with my best friends, and thankful that there are no available, single men in the vicinity to distract me. Well, there is Charlie but he is possibly the last man on earth with whom I could ever imagine a romance (I think this in the voice of Colin Firth as Mr Darcy because it’s befitting of the theme of the week).

I sit there for less than five minutes before I ask the group, ‘Did the online shopping arrive? Does everyone have a drink? Should I make us some plates of snacks and nibbles?’

6

CHARLIE

She never sits down. She’s like a blue bottle, buzzing around noisily all the time. Okay, not a blue bottle, more like a ladybird or something prettier still – a butterfly, perhaps. But all that fluttering does get annoying. Moreover, it’s distracting. She makes me lose my train of thought, stops me from being able to hold a conversation. So much so, I have decided to take up a spot reclining on a lounger and pretend to sleep.

She finally stops bringing people refills and topping up bowls of snacks. There are pretzels, ‘chips’ of the crisp variety, hummus and veggie sticks, cheese, all kinds around the pool edge. Jake, Brooks, Drew, Izzy and Cash are lazily drifting around on inflatables – a crocodile, a flamingo, a unicorn and two Lilos, apparently all purchased and delivered ahead of time by none other than the Matron of Honor.

It is irritating me that I’m irritated, making me massively irritated that no one is stopping this incessant display of fussing. I want to yell at the group, Get your own drinks. Sarah reminds me of my first ever foster mother, who could never do enough for the tribe of foster kids she had, who could never do enough for her biological kids, and who was never stopped or assisted or just told to slow down by her husband.

Barbara was my preferred carer in the long line of foster carers and foster homes I went through as a kid. Before my parents adopted me in my mid-teens, Barbara had been my longest reigning temporary mother. She had provided a warm, welcoming home for me for two years, two birthdays, from ages six to eight years old. She was the only carer I had ever called Mum, before my adoption. The only one who wasn’t just in it for the money. The first and last of them who seemed to really give a toss about me. But ultimately, she had let me go, too.

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