Page 19 of Wilder at Heart
‘Damn right you do. So is today about warming your family up on the Manhattan position? Is there anything you want me to drop into the conversation?’
‘Nah. My parents won’t talk business over Sunday lunch. They’re too polite for that. They’ll want to focus on the wedding, which my mum is ridiculously excited about, and on their grandkids, and on Elle and Josh, obviously. Normally, at a lunch like this, I could get away with being completely ignored, but given I’m turning up with a very pretty, verysensible, appropriate date, they’ll be all over you. And Mum will want to hear all about the wedding plans.’
‘So I’ll need to work hard charming them, and you’ll just sit beside me and quietly get drunk?’
I flash her a huge grin. ‘Got it in one.’
The champagne is flowingin my parents’ garden, and everyone’s tucking in except for Josh, who’s a recovering alcoholic, and my sister-in-law, Margot. I imagine doing the bedtime routine with twin babies isn’t much fun if you’ve been drinking all day.
I told Mum I was bringing a date, but when she gets a load of Nora, the woman practically has an orgasm. She was probably expecting a gold-digger with fake lips and arse-length hair. Not that that’s my type, but I’m still digging my reputation of out a Trixie-and-Dixie-sized hole.
Anyway, Mum’s all over Nora like a rash, and when she looks at me, it’s with wide eyes and lips pressed tightly together like she’s about to explode with gushiness. I take Nora in from Mum’s perspective. She’s beautiful. There’s no doubt about that.But, though I can tell she’s made a real effort today, she still looks wholesome. Radiant. Her Disney princess eyes are massive and clear, her skin is glowing and her glossy brown hair is like a siren’s call to wrap it around my hand and pull her head back (I resist). Plus, she smells fucking amazing.
So, it’s no hardship at all to play the part of the new and captivated boyfriend. I slide my arm around her narrow waist and lightly pinch the band of her dress. I squeeze her hand before gently running my fingertips up the soft skin on the inside of her arm. And when I leave her side for a second to grab her a refill, I step back into my spot and drop a kiss on her bare shoulder.
Nora’s taking my attentions in her stride. I’m definitely the one doing most of the touchy-feely stuff, but if she’s repulsed by me, she does a good job of not showing it. It occurs to me that she’s treating me like an affectionate but slightly too needy puppy—she’s not giving me the brush-off, but she’s not encouraging me, either.
I’m a bit of a spare part in this conversation, because Nora, Saoirse and Mum are discussing the wedding plans so far, and I have nothing to add. Obviously. I knew Saoirse was working for Siobhan Quinn, a high-end event planner who does very well for herself and is an old friend of my brother’s, but I hadn’t clicked that Siobhan’s company would be involved with the wedding, too.
‘So, how do you envisage it all working?’ Mum asks. She seems anxious about too many cooks in the kitchen. ‘Will you be able to split up the work between both parties, Nora?’
Nora exchanges glances with Saoirse, who gives her a grin and a nod.
‘It actually helps me, Laura,’ Nora says. ‘I often work with event planners, and Siobhan’s the best in the business. My area of oversight is the logistics, mainly. Bookings. Procurement.Budgeting. Those are my strengths—I need to make sure all the wedding-related events run like a Swiss watch. And I’ll help Miles and Saoirse execute a high-level vision for the event, too. But Siobhan and Saoirse’s team will be far more concerned with executing the aesthetic vision, and they’ll handle that right down to micro-level sourcing.
‘It suits me—I can oversee the big suppliers while they’re focused on the flowers matching the napkin rings. It should be a very harmonious working experience for all of us. Symbiotic, even. We’ll all be playing off each other’s strengths.’
Frankly, it’s a turn-on hearing Nora talking shop. I’ve been with too many bimbos lately, and she’s the antidote. At least I won’t get bored during our outings together. She’s smart and commercial and competent, and she’s reminded me that those are all character traits I find sexy.
And best of all, Mum’s gaze keeps flitting between Nora and me while she’s talking. She’s lapping it up, and there’s an expression on her face when she catches my eye that it takes me a moment to place, because I haven’t seen it for God knows how long.
Pride.
I’ve pleasantly surprised her.
‘I can’t wait!’ Saoirse claps her hands together in what I can only describe as pure glee. ‘We’re all going down to Sorrel Farm next week for a recce.’
‘You’ve been there before, though, no?’ Mum asks.
‘Yep—Miles took Bea and me there for a weekend a couple of months ago. But walking around knowing we’ll be getting married there will be totally different. I actually think Miles is more excited than me.’
It’s impossible to dislike Saoirse. She’s as cheerful and guileless as a kid. No wonder she hit my miserable brother over the head with her sunshine brand of charm.
And her rack.
And her legs.
She’s fucking glorious, and even I can’t begrudge Miles this happiness. Especially when it means little Bea has an amazing new stepmother in her life.
The conversation gets girlier and girlier, until I’m not sure I can take much more, so it’s a relief when Mum says it’s time for lunch. She wafts off to instruct the chef (yes, she’s had lunch catered) and Saoirse makes a beeline for Miles and Bea, leaving me with my delicious fake girlfriend.
I’m experiencing a rare and uncharacteristic sensation of relaxation. Usually, family lunches are a nightmare. Mum and Dad are great hosts (I mean, obviously. They own a hotel chain), but Miles has historically been a pain in the arse, and Stephen and Margot are held up as beacons of virtue. In addition, I’m the only one who hasn’t produced a grandchild yet. That I’ve just turned thirty doesn’t seem to go down as a valid excuse, given my younger brother’s wife has produced twins.
But today, I’m basking in the warm glow of approval, and it’s very bloody pleasant. I have a beautiful woman on my arm, and she’s winning over my family. Already, Mum’s drooling over her and suddenly I’m a hero for choosing a good ‘un.
I could get used to this.
In fact, I’m wondering why I haven’t played this game before. The bring-home-a-nice-girl game. It’s low effort and high return.
