Page 65 of Wedding Crasher

On Cecilia’s other side, Melanie looked up from her salad, giving Marla a sly wink over Gabe’s dipped head.

Marla comforted herself with a split-second fantasy of gouging out Melanie’s eyes with one of the dainty, silver fish knives that lay close at hand.

Perhaps Brynn would like to pop them into his pocket to dissect later. On second thoughts, maybe not. No doubt they’d be full of putrid, evil stuff that would splatter the walls if he sliced into them, because Melanie’s smug look was laced with pure bromide.

Robert spotted Marla behind him and jumped up to fold her into another quick hug. He held her at arm’s length and looked her over with a concerned frown.

‘Alright now, sweetheart?’

She blinked quickly as a fresh platoon of tears marched eagerly up her tear ducts.Left, right, left, right!Fall back! Fall back!His kind, fatherly tone threatened to unpick the good the five minutes she’d just spent deep breathing with Emily in the ladies’ had done. She smiled, her eyes overly bright.

‘It’s so lovely to see you,’ she answered. Robert had been more of a fatherly presence in his few short years as Cecilia’s husband, than her own dad had been in a lifetime.

‘You too, honey. Call me soon, yes?’

Marla squeezed his hands and nodded.

‘Who are you here with?’ she asked, keen to steer the conversation into less emotional waters. Behind her Cecilia leaned forward to catch the answer to the question she probably hadn’t dared to ask herself.

‘It’s a work thing,’ Robert said. ‘Bit dry, to be honest. Was a relief to spot my favourite girls over here … my favourite girl.’

He tailed off and corrected himself with an awkward smile. ‘My favourite girls’ had always been his term of endearment for MarlaandCecilia, and it was clearly inappropriate now. Hearing it then was almost enough to summon the tears legion back to duty.

Brynn shot around the table and screeched to a halt behind Cecilia’s chair. It was a tactical error. Standing close to Robert only served to highlight the fact that Brynn was a head shorter and a darn sight less attractive.

‘Brynn Holt. Taxidermist. And, Cecilia’s intended.’

He slicked hair back into place and held out his hand towards Robert.

‘Intended for what?’ Jonny called. ‘A glass display case in the cellar?’

He earned himself a high-five from a rather drunk Tom and a sharp elbow in the ribs from Emily.

Robert suppressed a smile.

‘Dr Robert Black. Gynaecologist. And ex-husband number five.’

‘Oooh, excellent,’ Tom said, brightly. ‘You should be able to verify Cecilia’s tiny fanny claim, then.’

Gabe spluttered on the large glass of wine that Cecilia had pressed on him. Brynn looked askance, Robert looked amused, and Cecilia, who loved nothing more than discussing sexual anatomy around the dinner table, nodded in excitement.

‘In my professional capacity, I most certainly cannot.’ Robert frowned at Tom, and then grinned at Cecilia, well aware that unlike most women, she’d want him to broadcast her anatomical information at the dinner table. ‘However, in my capacity as ex-husband, I can indeed confirm that Cecilia is delightfully snug.’

Parting shot delivered, he turned on his heels and headed back to join his own party. Marla realised with a jolt that most oftheirown party had been too interested in Robert to carry on conversations between themselves, and now he’d gone they were all gazing at her like attentive students in a classroom. All except Jonny, who leaned back on his chair legs to watch Dr Robert’s retreating backside.

‘What an amusing man,’ Brynn ground out through gritted teeth as he made his way back to his seat.

‘Amazing,’ Cecilia corrected, too quietly for anyone but Gabe to catch.

Marla sat down on her mother’s other side, mortified that Gabe had had to witness the spectacle that was her mother in full flight. She picked at her dinner for a few seconds longer before placing her knife and fork down – her food was significantly messier but barely eaten. She had no appetite for anything except the mercifully large glass of Shiraz in front of her. Tonight had turned into a fiasco of unprecedented levels, and the only constructive thing she could think of to do was to get too drunk to remember it.

Gabe picked up the wine bottle to refill Cecilia’s glass, and then Marla’s, but a big tanned hand stretched across the table and covered it.

Rupert.

God, with all of the shenanigans, Marla had almost forgotten he was there.

He looked a little odd, actually. Fidgety and awkward. Maybe he’d spotted that she was at the end of her tether and was about to sweep her right out of there? A violent longing to be curled up at home on the sofa with Bluey pierced her, and her heart cracked afresh. Her head hurt, and she smiled gratefully as Rupert got to his feet.

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