Sophie laughed, her hands resting on my biceps. “Sorry. You know, I just can’t keep my hands off…”
“Give over,” Simone shook her head. “No menus. Squeezing you in means you’re Jack’s taste testers for the night.”
“Jack?” I had no idea who Jack was. He could be pest control although I was hoping not.
“Jack’s my head chef, fiancé and father of the world’s biggest bump.” Simone smiled at me, a genuine smile, not like the one Sophie was flashing about that definitely wasn’t Oscar worthy.
“Sounds as tasty as my future husband.” Sophie gave me a look that could’ve set a lesser man on fire, had it been for real.
Simone rolled her eyes. “I’m leaving you to it. Time for me to put my feet up. Jack’ll come say hi before he goes and you’ll have to let us know what you think of the plates.”
“You’ll get a full report.” Sophie let me go and stepped towards Simone, giving her a large hug that was definitely genuine. There were murmured words that I couldn’t hear, so I sat down and poured a glass of the red wine that sat on the table, trying not to watch Sophie.
Trying not to notice how her arse curved and remember how those curves felt under my hands or the sight of them while I fucked her from behind. Trying not to remember how her hair looked spread out across my pillow while she looked at me with those big blue eyes and cried out my name as she came.
She might have gotten it out of her system but I hadn’t.
“Sorry about that.” Sophie sat down opposite me. “Simone’s a really good friend. She doesn’t know the details but she gets the whole business thing.”
“I think we need to limit the number of people who know this marriage thing is fake.”
She nodded. “Agreed. I’ve told my employees that I’m close with that we’re engaged. They asked if we’re having a party, but I think it’s just an excuse to say they’ve met you.”
“So no engagement party?”
“No. I think we have to set a date and work out what sort of wedding will be best. Ms Egalldottir’s solicitor asked for the details before she’d proceed any further.” Sophie now sounded exactly like the businesswoman I’d researched.
“What do you propose? Getting married isn’t something I’ve done before.”
“Touché.” She didn’t miss a beat. “We want small. I’d suggest boutique with a dozen guests, very bohemian and select, somewhere unusual. Then a larger party a couple of weeks afterwards. That would keep the number of people we lie to at a minimum, but provide some photos for the media.”
“You’ve seriously thought about this, haven’t you?” It sounded like a decent plan.
“And you haven’t?”
“I’ve been writing.”
“How did the songs go for Rosie?”
“You mean Roisin? And I know you fucked up her name on purpose.” I sat back and smiled – at her. As much as she’d denied it, she’d been jealous of Roisin.
“Whatever. Did you manage to get her to connect emotionally?” Her words were meant to be sandpaper.
“I wrote them for her. Which is what her record company was after, they just wanted to be able to market her as a singer-songwriter. I wouldn’t know where to start with a wedding though.”
“Where would you like to get married? The best way to make this seem real is to pretend it is.”
A platter of entrees was brought to us, the waiter going through what each one was. I wasn’t one for fancy food, having lived in places where the food was basic at best. Sophie seemed to have more of an idea at what we’d been given, asking a few questions about ingredients. I picked one of them up that looked like it had chorizo in it and swallowed in it one go. It was good.
Sophie laughed. Loudly. At me.
“You’re meant to savour them!”
“I’m starving. And I never thought about getting married so I have no idea where I’d pick. Where would you choose?” I picked up another one of the same thing I’d just eaten.
“You know, I’d just go for a registry office. Something simple. Say our vows and then go back to a restaurant for food and drinks. Then on a honeymoon.”
Beaches. More bikinis. Sophie walking out of the sea towards me. Uninterrupted evenings in a room steamy with more than heat.
