Page 18 of Before You Say I Do
“And Marcus?”
Marcus turned to his mother. “Yes?”
“I know Abby doesn’t want to deal with me, but could you both decide on a cake choice and topper? I know I’m not meant to know about these things, but I do. It’s Valerie’s daughter who runs the shop, and word gets around. And please, nothing too gaudy or modern. A traditional cake with a traditional bride and groom on the top should do the trick. Don’t you agree, Jordan?”
Jordan gave Marjorie a slow nod. “Traditional, or traditional with a twist works well. But let me have a word with Abby and see what she thinks. Having done many weddings, I tend to think it’s the bride who cares more about these things than the groom.” Jordan glanced up at Marcus. “Of course, if you have strong feelings one way or the other, just say.”
Marcus shook his head. “So long as you get Abby to the altar happy and relaxed, we could be eating plain old carrot cake with no topper for all I care.”
“I’m sure Abby wouldn’t sanction that,” Jordan replied, before turning back to Marjorie, giving her a curt nod. “Leave it with me. Remember, my job is to alleviate your stress. Let me do that.”
Marjorie gazed at Jordan, wonder in her eyes. “In all my years of organising events, I’ve never met anyone who does that quite as well as you.”
* * *
Marcus waiteduntil his mum and her Chanel red dress had disappeared around the corner before he turned to Jordan. His mouth hung open.
“My mother may never have met anyone as slick as you, but I guarantee, neither have I. I’ve watched a million staff try to tame her over the years, but you just breezed in and did it.”
Jordan grinned at him, shielding her eyes from the sun as they walked around the side of Marcus’s parents’ house. Her sunglasses were in the car, so she’d have to squint for now. “Let’s just say, I wasn’t as good when I first started, but I’ve learned a few tricks along the way.”
Marcus came to a stop when they reached Jordan’s Capri. “Is this your car?”
Jordan nodded. “Guilty. I have a thing for 70s bangers. Blame all the repeats ofMinderon Gold.”
Marcus grinned. “I have no idea what that means, but your car’s cool.” He paused. “One thing, did you really have lunch with the editor ofPerfect Bride?”
“Absolutely. No word of a lie.” Marcus needed to believe in her credentials just as much as his mother. Maybe more. He was the one paying her wages, after all.
“Well, you’re worth every penny whether you did or you didn’t. Abby loves you. My mother loves you. All of which means, I love you, too.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of love from all of you. I hope I can live up to it.”
“You already are. Apart from Abby saying yes to me in the first place, you’re the best thing that’s happened during this wedding preparation. I mean it.”
Jordan gulped, thinking back to Abby’s hands around her waist, her breasts pressed into her back. The way an arc of pleasure had gripped her tight throughout.
She chewed the inside of her cheek, before giving Marcus a confident smile. “Glad you think so,” she replied.
Chapter 10
“There’s my gorgeous almost-daughter!”Gloria bowled up to Delta and they embraced. A full, squidgy, Scottish hug. None of those southern air kisses, as Mum always said.
Warmth rolled through Abby. Mum had always loved Delta, and vice versa.
When they finally let go, Delta stepped back, giving Mum her full smile. “Great to see you, Gloria. Ready for your daughter to marry into almost-royalty?”
“I’ve been waiting since she was a tiny tot.” Gloria put an arm around Abby’s shoulder, squeezing tight. “Seeing my little girl married to a posh boy? That bit I hadn’t quite imagined. Mainly because I’m from Glasgow. Have I told you that before, hen?”
Mum’s accent was suddenly as Scottish as could be. Abby rolled her eyes. That was another thing Delta and her mother had in common. Putting on thick Scottish accents for comic effect.
“You did, Gloria, aye!” Delta responded.
They fell about laughing, before they all sat at the table Abby had commandeered when she’d arrived. They were in Bart’s Bar in Canary Wharf, where both Abby and Delta worked, in the heart of the financial district. It was 6pm on a Thursday, and the bar was packed with workers out for a drink, jackets discarded, ties loosened. This was Abby and Delta’s world, but it wasn’t Jordan’s. What was Jordan’s world? Abby had no idea.
All she knew was that Jordan was a problem solver supreme. Someone who threw herself into her job. But who she really was? Abby was clueless. She wanted to rectify that soon. Jordan had quickly become someone she relied on. Jordan had said she could ask her anything, but they always seemed to end up talking about Abby, and not her. She’d moved around a lot as a kid. She lived with her best friend in Brighton. She had good taste in clothes. That was about as far as Abby had got.
“Can you refrain from doing your Scottish comedy act when Jordan turns up? I’d like for her not to think we’re all crazy the minute she arrives.”
