“You want a honeymoon?”
“It would help. You’ll have media interest. If we don’t, it’ll look weird. The paparazzi have left you alone so far, but they won’t forever.”
“True. You need to decide a date. I can do pretty much any time next month.” A blade of fear stabbed my stomach. I was actually getting married.
“You look petrified.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re seriously not. This whole getting married thing is seriously fucking with you.”
“I’m just hungry.”
“You’ve gone pale.”
“It’s indigestion. I’ve eaten too quickly.”
“You’re scared.” She started to laugh, a genuine, thrilled laugh. “You don’t need to be. I’m expert at divorce.”
“I’m not scared.”
She shook her head and pointed at me. “You look terrified.”
“I’m not.” I picked up another bite of whatever they were. “Maybe a little.”
“You know, if we can start to like each other a bit more, it could be fun.” She tapped my ankle with her foot under the table a little too hard to be seductive.
“I don’t dislike you.”
“I don’t dislike you either. I almost trust you.”
“Good to know since we fucked each other both ways till Sunday a couple of weeks ago.” I wondered if she’d forgotten that bit.
I wondered if she’d slept with anyone else since. I didn’t like the idea.
“We need to try forgetting about that. Although it’s problematic – for you anyway.” She put a tiny piece of pastry in her mouth and looked like she was about to orgasm.
“Why for me?”
“Because there’s no way you can sleep with anyone else while we’re engaged or married. If it got found out, you’d make me look a fool.” She shook her head. “And no one makes me look a fool, Liam. Not even you.”
“I can go without sex.”
“Good. Now let’s plan our wedding.”
* * *
I had a list.
A fucking to do list.
And at no point did it mentiondrink a beerorwatch the football. I had to make a fucking Pinterest board with the sort of suit I wanted to wear, send Bridezilla a list of guests for our wedding and then our reception and then shortlist three potential honeymoon destinations.
I hadn’t done any of it. Which meant my arse was about to get a severe kicking even though it had only been two days since I’d been given said list. What I had done was memorise the information Lady Sophie had given me about her, because we were about to have our first ever joint interview.
It had been one of my requests, and by request, her answer had been non-negotiable. The fact that I’d met Sophie six months ago and we were both of that age where quick weddings weren’t that questionable gave us a plausible story. I’d also been well out of the limelight during that time and she’d been celibate, so there was no army of skeletons about to fall out of any closets, not recent ones anyway.
“Have you thought about guests to the reception?” She breathed the words into my ear. Although she was physically close, there was a huge distance between us, almost as if she’d retreated after our conversation at Simone’s.
