Page 50 of Wedding Crasher

He knew his words sounded dry and textbook, but that’s exactly what they were. It was part of the funeral directors’ unwritten handbook to be prepared for relatives who could mistake their heightened emotions of grief for sexual attraction, but up until now he’d never actually experienced it firsthand. He wanted Marla to feel those emotions for him more than anything else in the world, but not like this.

‘But you stare death in the eye all the time,’ she mumbled with a shaky laugh, her breath warm against his skin. ‘So what does that make you?’

He laughed softly.

‘Frustrated, in your case. Go inside, Marla. You need some sleep.’

CHAPTER TWENTY

A bright shard of dawn sunlight slanted through the blind and half-woke Melanie from her slumber. As she flipped over away from the window in protest she registered the unexpected smoothness of Egyptian cotton against her cheek. Her eyes snapped open as memories of the night before pieced themselves together like a macabre jigsaw in her head.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

She’d killed Marla’s dog.

She winced in horror at the memory of that sickening thud. It was a miracle she hadn’t been injured herself; the dog had bounced hard enough against the front of the car to send him flying clear over the roof.

She shivered. It had all seemed like such a simple plan. Slip back to work, grab the note from her desk, and then hotfoot it out of there again. Nowhere in the plan had she accounted for the possibility of Gabe being at the funeral parlour, or even worse, of him being outside on his motorbike. He couldn’t see her there, he just couldn’t. She’d panicked and stamped down too hard on the accelerator. In her desperation to get away she hadn’t noticed the huge dog until he’d bolted out into the road right in front of her. He hadn’t stood a chance.

Oh God.

Would they call the police?

Would she lose her job?

It was all way too much to consider so early in the morning. Melanie picked up the metaphorical broom in her head and swept all the horrible thoughts into a dark, unvisited corner to revisit later. Or not at all, if she could get away with it. Decision made, she closed her eyes, turned over again, and settled back into the warm crook of Rupert’s naked shoulder.

Marla closed her eyes as her mobile trilled yet again. She’d avoided Rupert’s numerous calls and texts so far, because she couldn’t bear to hash over the events of the previous night or listen to his apologies for Bluey’s escape. It wasn’t that she was mad with him, exactly. She knew in her heart that it had been a horrible accident. Rupert hadn’t meant to be so utterly useless in a crisis, and his badly chosen words hadn’t been malicious or intended to hurt her.

She just felt incredibly let down. He hadn’t been the rock that she’d desperately needed last night. Which led her thoughts to Gabe, who had.

But then again, in Rupert’s defence, last night’s situationhadplayed to Gabe’s strengths, so hadn’t it been all too easy for him to jump in and be her knight in shining armour? Her head ached with the pressure of trying to be judge and jury, of juggling the facts to make them fit the evidence.

She wasn’t stupid. She was well aware that there was no love lost between Gabe and Rupert. It was entirely possible that last night had been an exercise in posturing and one-upmanship that had nothing much to do with her at all. She cringed at the memory of how she’d thrown herself at Gabe, and was only too glad of the pop-psychology cover story he’d handily provided her with, even if she didn’t entirely buy it. She’d compromised her position badly last night, and she had no clue how to recover lost ground.

But now she had guilt and betrayal to add to the ever more confusing list of emotions she felt towards Rupert. What had started out as fun had turned into something far more intense than she’d bargained for, definitely on Rupert’s part at least. He’d muttered the ‘L’ word last night, albeit in a lighthearted manner, and she’d felt a shiver of fear run down her backbone. Throwing herself at Gabe within a couple of hours of the declaration left her feeling distinctly shabby and disloyal, not to mention incredibly foolish. One moment she was running him out of town, the next trying to rip his clothes off on her doorstep. Jeez, he must think her a prize idiot, because she certainly felt like one. She was in over her head with both Rupert and Gabe.

She pushed it all to the back of her mind as she glanced out of the window to the private shady spot at the back of the chapel gardens beneath the oak tree. It had been one of Bluey’s favourite flop spots, and Gabe had already been across early this morning to prepare a permanent resting place there.

Once again she’d found herself glad of Gabe’s guidance to lead her in the right direction. He’d made a horrible situation bearable with his subtle strength, and she was aware that she owed him a debt of gratitude for the way he’d taken care of all the behind-the-scenes practicalities. It comforted her to know that her fur-boy couldn’t be in safer hands. Bluey had been so much more than a pet to Marla. People had come and gone in her life over the years; her gentle giant had been her only constant, her faithful friend, guardian of her secrets.

She glanced up at the clock. Almost five. Gabe would soon be closing up for the day and heading over to bury her best friend.

At the funeral parlour, Gabe laid Bluey’s blanket over the huge dog and tucked a packet of Jammie Dodgers inside the casket with him. ‘A snack for the journey, buddy,’ he said softly, taking a few seconds to give the big old boy a final scratch behind the ears before he closed the lid with a sigh. This was going to be a difficult afternoon for Marla; he knew how much she’d adored Bluey. He’d handled one other animal funeral in the past, and the elderly owner of the cat in question had broken her heart far more than she had at the funeral of her husband which Gabe had arranged six months previously. He didn’t expect Marla to fall to pieces. Her outburst on her front step had obviously been very out of character for her, and he still half regretted not letting himself go inside her home, inside her bed, because Lord knew that he’d wanted to.

He sealed the coffin and slid it onto the blue-ribboned gurney, then picked up his screwdriver to fix the nameplate he’d spent the morning making onto the lid.

Bluey. A woman’s best friend.

Gabe and Jonny lowered Bluey’s simple pine casket into the sun-warmed earth, then stepped back for a few seconds of reverential silence. Jonny had dressed for the occasion in blue, all the way from his sapphire eyeliner down to his blue suede shoes. Pale blue ribbons fluttered around Marla and Emily’s wrists as they stood arm in arm next to the grave. Rupert had offered to attend too, but Marla had found herself reluctant to accept. Much as she knew he was trying to be supportive, her emotions were too raw for her to be able to be anything but truthful. He’d sounded like a crestfallen child when she’d insisted she’d rather he didn’t come, but as she stood at the graveside she was relieved that he wasn’t there. Both Emily and Jonny had adored Bluey, and it felt fitting to surround him only with those whose hearts he’d genuinely touched.

Silent tears tracked down Marla’s cheeks as she bent to place Bluey’s favourite, dog-eared chew toy on top of his casket.

‘Bye, Bluey,’ she whispered, her palm flat against the wood. ‘I’ll miss you every day.’

Words deserted her. She wanted to say something perfect, but her heart felt too heavy, her throat too constricted.

Emily held out a hand to help her back up again, and kept a tight hold of it as Gabe stepped forward. His dark, knowing eyes were sombre as he watched Marla for signs, giving her time to speak if she needed to. When she glanced up and met his eyes, he saw there all of the words that she couldn’t bring herself to say. He coughed lightly and Emily and Jonny looked towards him.

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