Judging from the expression on Ant’s face and the way his hands remain on the edges of her shoulders as though he’s trying to push her away, he minds too.
Julian, who smells vaguely of garlic and cheese, assumes the position, and we begin what can only be described as an excruciating attempt at dancing. I’d swear he’s counting the beats in his head as he shuffles in place.
Meanwhile, Emily is plastered to Ant like, well, plaster. Gazing up at him with a predatory gleam in her eye. So far, she hasn’t drawn breath. And he hasn’t taken his eyes off me.
Julian is droning on about something to do with the choice of wines at dinner. I couldn’t be less interested. As the song drawsto a close, Ant dances Emily towards us, arriving just as the final notes fade away.
“I’m sure you’ll want your beautiful bride back now, Julian.” Ant disengages Emily’s grasping hands and deposits them on Julian’s arms before she even realises what’s happening.
I’m swept back into Ant's arms, which now smell unpleasantly of Emily’s perfume, and he whisks us off to the other side of the dance floor as though he can’t get away from them fast enough.
“Are there two Emilys? Because that one there”—Ant inclines his head in her general direction—“bears no resemblance to the woman your mother described.”
Emily is the golden-haired child—literally—of our family, and it makes my heart soar to know Ant wasn’t fooled by her gushing attention. I’m so giddy with relief, I laugh out loud.
“Oh, no. There’s only one Emily.”
“Thank God. Please don’t ever leave me alone with her again.” Ant grimaces and pulls me closer. Over his shoulder, I catch sight of my grandmother, watching us with a gleam in her eye not unlike Emily’s. I can read her like a book. She’s plotting the best way to dispose of Ant.
She’d be thrilled if she knew this is a fake dating arrangement.
Except it no longer feels so fake. That almost-kiss, the way he touched me during dinner, the way he looks at me. It all feels like it’s morphing into something more.
What, I’m not entirely sure. And I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m open to finding out.
The tiki torches are being extinguished, and the tables and chairs are being stacked in the corner of the patio by the time we leave the now-empty restaurant.
Mum, Warren and my grandmother left hours ago. Mum looking anxious, and Grandie looking like she needed a whiteboard, pins and string to work out a plan of attack. But I don’t care.
We’ve drunk a little too much champagne. We’ve danced ourselves almost sober. We’ve laughed like a pair of kids. And we’ve even managed to avoid coming face to face with Julian’s brother, Miles.
My feet are now paying the price.
“Would you like me to carry you?” Ant asks, his hand under my elbow, as I hobble down the steps to the pathway back to the resort.
“No, just wait a minute while I take off my shoes.”
I lean one hand on his shoulder, kick my leg up, intending to unbuckle my sandal. But Ant brushes my hand away, and his fingers circle my ankle, somehow slipping the buckle while at the same time caressing my skin. Goosebumps run up my leg and don’t have the manners to stop when they reach my panty line. After he repeats the process with my other foot, Ant hooks the straps of my shoes over the fingers of one hand and takes mine in the other. He avoids the concrete path and leads me down still more steps till we’re on the sand.
A massive moon is high in the sky, reflecting off the satiny blackness of the water. Somewhere in there are the turtles we saw today. I hope I get to see them again.
“The salt water will do your feet good,” Ant says, guiding me till I’m ankle deep in the chilly waters of the bay. After he’s taken his shoes off and rolled up his trousers, he joins me, kicking gently at the frothing edge of the tiny waves.
“Do you think I’ll ever get the smell of Emily out of these clothes?” he asks, sniffing his sleeve.
I press my nose to his shoulder and take a deep breath, coughing on the cloying scent before I answer. “You might have to burn them.”
“Nooo,” he wails. “This is my favourite shirt. It brings out my eyes.” He bats said eyes, which are reflecting the moon and the last remaining torches from the restaurant, at me.
I know I’m gazing at him—probably longingly—but I can’t believe I just had a fantastic night at an Emily and Julian wedding event. And it was all thanks to Ant.
If it had been an actual date, it would have hands down been the best date of my life. Which gets me thinking thoughts I shouldn’t think. But I know I’m not imagining the admiration on Ant’s face when he looks at me. Or the electricity when we touch.
If I were a braver woman, the woman whose mask I wear when I face the world, I’d tell him outright what I’m thinking. Ask him if I’m right. And probably have the best sex ever. Well, at least the best sex had by me. Which is a pretty low bar.
But I’m not that kind of woman. Making the first move is just not in my DNA. Will wishing and yearning get the job done?
Ant takes my hand and we wander along the shoreline, the cool water lapping around our ankles and soothing my tired and blistered feet.
