Page 66 of Wedding Crasher

Phew. Theywereleaving.

Hang on, why was he clinking his glass with his knife? There was no need to make a drama of it, much better to slink out … Why did he always have to be so formal? She sank back down into her chair and picked up her wine glass in resignation as a hush fell around the table.

Rupert let the table settle into silenced anticipation, and then carefully placed the knife and glass back down on the table.

‘I have something important that I need to say … or should I say, I need to ask.’

He flashed a wide smile. ‘And there could be no better time than here, in the presence of our friends and family,’ he continued, in the style of a vicar about to deliver a sermon to his flock. Beside her, Marla heard a tiny gasp from her mother – and a much more audible one from Melanie.

‘Marla,’ Rupert turned to face her. She nodded encouragingly back.

Just wrap it up, Rupert. Say thanks for coming and goodnight, then let’s get the hell out of here. Please.

But it was another prayer to no one that fell on deaf ears.

‘Marla, we’ve been together now for some months, and I can honestly say that I’ve never felt so happy, and I think you feel the same way.’ He paused for dramatic effect and laid a hand over his heart. ‘You complete me.’

‘Plagiarism! Get yer own lines!’ Jonny heckled. Rupert shot Jonny a murderous look whilst he started a slow walk around the table towards Marla. She knew he was still speaking because his lips were moving, but the roar of blood in her ears made it impossible to hear his voice.

Sweet baby Jesus, no! Please don’t let him get down on one knee, or I’m done for. I take back all I said about being a non-believer, I’ll change my ways if you help me just this once.

Please, he’s coming …

Rupert picked up her limp hand and sank down on one knee.

Alone in his luxurious marble bathroom the next morning, Rupert angled his chin from side to side to better admire himself in the mirror. Last night couldn’t have gone better if he’d planned it. He’d only intended to ask Marla to go on holiday with him, but given the company around the table he’d hastily revised his plan. He threw a celebratory wink at his reflection.

Keeeer-ching! Hoist by your own petard, Melanie.

In one fell swoop he’d managed to propose to Marla, piss on Gabriel Ryan, and spell it out to Melanie that he wasn’t a man to mess with. Jesus, he’d only slept with the woman once out of sympathy;well, three times,if you wanted to split hairs. Rupert glanced ruefully down at his flaccid cock.He couldn’t help it if his little tiger had a big stride when it was let out, could he?

And now she was trying to cling on, making unreasonable demands as if she had some right to his time. Tiresome. She probably thought she’d been terribly clever last night; he hadn’t missed the sly glint of triumph in her eyes when she’d wangled herself a place at his table. What sweet revenge it had been to watch fury twist her thin face when he’d proposed to Marla; almost as pleasurable as the tears of joy Marla had cried. Poor girl had been completely overcome, couldn’t get a coherent word out. She’d seemed jumpy of late. Probably in need of a good seeing-to, it was frustrating for them both with her mother hogging all of her time.

His little tiger stirred against his thigh at the thought of Marla in flagrante on her white cotton sheets, and he stepped into the shower to let the beast roar.

Marla lay on her back and stared at the smooth, white bedroom ceiling. Pointless anger surged through her as her mother and Brynn banged around in the kitchen downstairs. She craved the solitude of an empty cottage and her own counsel rather than being forced into the sanctuary of her bedroom like a skulking teenager. The idea of going downstairs to rake over the coals of last night’s events turned her stomach. She dragged the quilt over her head and closed her eyes, but still the memories played behind her eyelids. Everyone around their table last night had fallen silent the moment that Rupert dropped down on one knee. Actually, a Mexican wave of silence had fallen over the entire restaurant. She’d even spotted the chef pop out from the kitchens to lean against the doorframe with a spatula in his hand.

No pressure, then.

Time had seemed to slow down,Matrix-style, as Marla glanced around at the faces of her nearest and dearest.

Her mother, fascinated.

Emily, shocked.

Tom, grinning like a drunken loon.

Melanie, outraged.Outraged?Whatwasthat woman’s problem?

Jonny, surreptitiously shaking his head from side to side and mouthing ‘say no’.

And finally Gabe, whose expression she’d been unable to read at all. Her eyes had moved from his to Rupert’s, who had sprung onto to his feet to stare expectantly at her.

Had she actually said the word yes?Had she? Surely she hadn’t.

She’d cried, certainly, which Rupert had presumed to be tears of joy and popped the cork on a celebratory champagne bottle he’d produced out of thin air.

Couldshe love Rupert? She lay still and tried the idea on for size. It was too big. It swamped her. She was fond of him, but fond wasn’t the same thing at all, was it? Love was bigger than her feelings for Rupert. More painful, more blinding, more destructive. Rupert was good company. He’d looked out for her since the campaign against the funeral parlour had started, and God knew he’d made sure she had an unfair amount of coverage in the newspaper. He could make her laugh and he could make her come, but that was really all she wanted from him. Up until last night she’d assumed he felt the same way.

---