Page 76 of Wedding Crasher

‘It’s a bad rap when a woman has to buy her own flowers. Where’s Brynn?’

‘Aw, he had to fly on to Hamburg.’ She rolled her eyes back in her head. ‘Don’t ask what for, darling, it’s too grisly to repeat.’

Gabe laughed at her pained expression.

‘These are for Marla actually.’ She waved her spare hand towards the flowers. ‘It’s her birthday tomorrow.’

‘Her birthday? Wow.’

‘I know!’ Cecilia gasped. ‘Can you believe I have a daughter who’s turning twenty-eight?’

‘You could be sisters,’ Gabe smiled, turning over the nugget of information in his head. ‘So are you two painting the town red to celebrate?’

‘Gawd, no! Gabriel, the girl drives me nuts! She’s ditched that boyfriend of hers and won’t even let her friends take her out for her birthday. Just wants a quiet night in, apparently. Whoever heard of that at her age?’

Cecilia gawped and placed a conspiratorial hand on his arm.

‘I mean, when I was that age, I’d already got a wedding, a baby and a divorce under my belt!’

Gabe hadn’t heard a word Cecilia had said since her confirmation that Marla had kicked Rupert to the kerb. He laughed vaguely and shook his head.

‘Tell her to have a drink for me, yeah?’

‘Hmmm. You could always tell her yourself.’

Cecilia twinkled up at him. ‘I’ve got plans this weekend so she’ll be home alone, probably eating pints of ice-cream and feeling sorry for herself.’

She tapped the side of her nose and waggled her eyebrows at him as if she’d just passed him a secret code, leaving Gabe perplexed that she’d made other plans on her only daughter’s special day. It was probably the first time they’d been in the same country for her birthday in a number of years; surely it would have been a good chance to celebrate? But from the scraps of information that Marla had shared, he knew Cecilia was a woman who put her own happiness in front of everyone else’s. Including, it would seem, her own daughter. It was hard not to warm to Cecilia’s infectiously loud personality, but he could see the threads of steel that held her backbone ramrod-straight, enabling her to glide through life – and husbands – unencumbered by baggage.

Out on the street, he hesitated for a moment or two and then reached for his mobile.

‘Melanie, hi. Can you hold the fort this afternoon? Something’s come up that won’t wait.’

CHAPTER THIRTY

After waving her mother off from the step the following morning, Marla closed the door with a sigh of relief. She’d have indulged in a little jig around the living room if she hadn’t been concerned her mother might nip back and catch her in the act.

Admittedly, it had been easier to have Cecilia around since Brynn had gone off in search of his dead zebra, but, for Marla, having her home completely to herself for a couple of weeks was a birthday gift in itself. Cecilia had gone to stay with a friend in London, leaving Marla gloriously free to kick her heels up – or, more accurately, to enjoy the haven of having her home to herself again. She didn’t let herself dwell on the fact that her mother had chosen to go away on her birthday. It wasn’t as if her mother was going home to the States anytime soon – a couple of days ago she’d even mooted the idea of staying on for Christmas.

Marla turfed the scary prospect out of her head. Nothing was going to spoil her plans for a totally decadent weekend. It was a shame Emily had family commitments and Jonny a hot date, but Marla didn’t mind. Spending time alone had never been a problem for her. And this weekend, even the chapel’s bookings had fallen neatly into place at the last moment, though not on an entirely positive note. A tearful bride had called two days ago to cancel their big day because she’d found her husband-to-be in bed with her best friend. Marla had winced with shock in all the right places, but couldn’t help the shiver of fear that it would be the first of a landslide of cancellations.

She banished that thought hastily.

If she let her mind wander down that path she’d spend the weekend curled up in a ball of panic.

Invigorated by the quietness of her cottage, she headed straight for the fridge. Smoked salmon and scrambled eggs beckoned, followed by a long soak in the bath with the new Jo Malone bath oil she’d treated herself to. She hummed a jaunty rendition of ‘Happy Birthday to me’ under her breath as she cracked the eggs, and savoured the prospect of a whole weekend dedicated to Ben & Jerry’s, girly movies and bubble baths.

Bliss.

‘I could kiss you, Eve, this looks perfect,’ Gabe grinned as he strapped the wicker basket onto the back of his motorbike.

Eve Jones stood on the pavement outside her store and turned beetroot with pleasure. She found herself very much wishing that hewouldkiss her, but just managed to stop short of saying so.

‘Just try and keep it upright, okay?’ she flustered, eyeing the huge bike apprehensively.

Gabe winked and threw his leg over the saddle. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll drive carefully. Precious cargo and all that.’

He slid his helmet down over his head and blew her a kiss.

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