Wedding Night
Page 38
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OMG! What happened???
All very fast. Still can’t believe it. He came back into my life out of nowhere, asked me in a restaurant, had no idea he would, absolute whirlwind!!!!
I have to talk to her. I call her mobile number, but it’s engaged. Damn. I’ll get myself a coffee, then try again. As I head to our in-house Costa outlet, I can’t stop beaming. In fact, I’m so happy I really want to cry, but editors at Pincher International don’t cry at work, so I’ll settle for hugging myself.
Richard is perfect. He’s everything I could ever have wanted for Lottie. Which sounds motherly—but, then, I do feel motherly toward her. Always have. Our own parents both kind of gave up on the job, what with the divorce and the alcohol and the affairs with loaded businessmen and South African beauty queens.… Put it this way: we were left alone a lot. Lottie is five years younger than me, and, well before our mother died, she started turning to me when things went wrong.
And as mother figure/sister/possible chief bridesmaid (?), I could not be more thrilled that Richard’s joining our strange little family unit. For a start, he’s good-looking but not to-die-for. This is important, I think. You want your sister to land a sex god in her own eyes, but you don’t want to be lusting after him yourself. I mean, how would I feel if Lottie brought Johnny Depp home?
I try to examine my thoughts honestly, in the privacy of my own head. Yes, I would be unable to stay sisterly. I would probably try to steal him. I would feel like all bets were off.
But Richard isn’t Johnny Depp. He’s handsome, don’t get me wrong, but not overly handsome. Not gay handsome, which that awful Jamie was, always preening and competing over carbs. Richard’s a man. To my eye, he sometimes looks like a younger Pierce Brosnan and sometimes like a younger Gordon Brown. (Although I think I’m the only one who can see the Gordon Brown thing. I mentioned the resemblance to Lottie once, and she got quite offended.)
I know he’s good at his job. (Obviously, when he first started dating Lottie I asked around all my City contacts for the lowdown on him.) I also know he can have a short fuse and once bawled out his team so hugely, he had to take them all out to lunch to apologize. But he’s also good-natured. The first time I ever saw him, he was holding an armchair, which Lottie wanted moved in her flat. She was wandering round the sitting room, saying, “There … no, there! Ooh, what about there?” And he just held that big heavy chair patiently while she dithered around, and I caught his eye and he grinned and I knew. This is the right guy for Lottie.
I want to jump up and down, I’m so happy. After all the shit of my divorce, we needed something good to come our way. So, how did it happen? What did he say? I want to know everything. As I head back to my desk, I impatiently dial her number again—and this time she answers.
“Hi, Fliss?”
“Lottie!” I erupt with excitement. “Congratulations! Amazing news! I can’t believe it!”
“I know! I know!” She sounds even more euphoric than I was expecting. Richard must have swept her off her feet.
“So … when?” I sit down at my desk and sip my coffee.
“Two weeks ago. It still hasn’t really sunk in!”
“Details!”
“Well, he just contacted me out of the blue.” Lottie gives an exhilarated laugh. “I couldn’t believe it. I thought I’d never see him again. Let alone this!”
If he proposed two weeks ago, that means he’d been gone for a day, max. He must have landed at San Francisco and turned right around. Good work, Richard!
“And what did he say? Did he get down on one knee?”
“Yes! He said he’d always loved me and he wanted to be with me and then he asked me to marry him about ten times, and at last … I said yes!” Her elation bubbles over again. “Can you believe it?”
I sigh happily and take another sip of coffee. It’s so romantic. It’s so dreamy. I wonder if I could skive my British Airways press conference and take Lottie out for a celebratory lunch.
“So … what else?” I probe for more details. “Did you give him the ring?”
“Well, no.” Lottie sounds drawn up short. “Of course not.”
Thank God for that. I was never into the ring idea.
“You just decided not to in the end?”
“It didn’t even occur to me!” To my surprise, she sounds pained. “I mean, the ring was for Richard.”
“What do you mean?” I blink at the phone, not following.
“Well, I bought the ring for Richard.” She sounds quite put out. “It would be weird, giving it to someone else. Don’t you think?”
All very fast. Still can’t believe it. He came back into my life out of nowhere, asked me in a restaurant, had no idea he would, absolute whirlwind!!!!
I have to talk to her. I call her mobile number, but it’s engaged. Damn. I’ll get myself a coffee, then try again. As I head to our in-house Costa outlet, I can’t stop beaming. In fact, I’m so happy I really want to cry, but editors at Pincher International don’t cry at work, so I’ll settle for hugging myself.
Richard is perfect. He’s everything I could ever have wanted for Lottie. Which sounds motherly—but, then, I do feel motherly toward her. Always have. Our own parents both kind of gave up on the job, what with the divorce and the alcohol and the affairs with loaded businessmen and South African beauty queens.… Put it this way: we were left alone a lot. Lottie is five years younger than me, and, well before our mother died, she started turning to me when things went wrong.
And as mother figure/sister/possible chief bridesmaid (?), I could not be more thrilled that Richard’s joining our strange little family unit. For a start, he’s good-looking but not to-die-for. This is important, I think. You want your sister to land a sex god in her own eyes, but you don’t want to be lusting after him yourself. I mean, how would I feel if Lottie brought Johnny Depp home?
I try to examine my thoughts honestly, in the privacy of my own head. Yes, I would be unable to stay sisterly. I would probably try to steal him. I would feel like all bets were off.
But Richard isn’t Johnny Depp. He’s handsome, don’t get me wrong, but not overly handsome. Not gay handsome, which that awful Jamie was, always preening and competing over carbs. Richard’s a man. To my eye, he sometimes looks like a younger Pierce Brosnan and sometimes like a younger Gordon Brown. (Although I think I’m the only one who can see the Gordon Brown thing. I mentioned the resemblance to Lottie once, and she got quite offended.)
I know he’s good at his job. (Obviously, when he first started dating Lottie I asked around all my City contacts for the lowdown on him.) I also know he can have a short fuse and once bawled out his team so hugely, he had to take them all out to lunch to apologize. But he’s also good-natured. The first time I ever saw him, he was holding an armchair, which Lottie wanted moved in her flat. She was wandering round the sitting room, saying, “There … no, there! Ooh, what about there?” And he just held that big heavy chair patiently while she dithered around, and I caught his eye and he grinned and I knew. This is the right guy for Lottie.
I want to jump up and down, I’m so happy. After all the shit of my divorce, we needed something good to come our way. So, how did it happen? What did he say? I want to know everything. As I head back to my desk, I impatiently dial her number again—and this time she answers.
“Hi, Fliss?”
“Lottie!” I erupt with excitement. “Congratulations! Amazing news! I can’t believe it!”
“I know! I know!” She sounds even more euphoric than I was expecting. Richard must have swept her off her feet.
“So … when?” I sit down at my desk and sip my coffee.
“Two weeks ago. It still hasn’t really sunk in!”
“Details!”
“Well, he just contacted me out of the blue.” Lottie gives an exhilarated laugh. “I couldn’t believe it. I thought I’d never see him again. Let alone this!”
If he proposed two weeks ago, that means he’d been gone for a day, max. He must have landed at San Francisco and turned right around. Good work, Richard!
“And what did he say? Did he get down on one knee?”
“Yes! He said he’d always loved me and he wanted to be with me and then he asked me to marry him about ten times, and at last … I said yes!” Her elation bubbles over again. “Can you believe it?”
I sigh happily and take another sip of coffee. It’s so romantic. It’s so dreamy. I wonder if I could skive my British Airways press conference and take Lottie out for a celebratory lunch.
“So … what else?” I probe for more details. “Did you give him the ring?”
“Well, no.” Lottie sounds drawn up short. “Of course not.”
Thank God for that. I was never into the ring idea.
“You just decided not to in the end?”
“It didn’t even occur to me!” To my surprise, she sounds pained. “I mean, the ring was for Richard.”
“What do you mean?” I blink at the phone, not following.
“Well, I bought the ring for Richard.” She sounds quite put out. “It would be weird, giving it to someone else. Don’t you think?”
