“Call me Celeste. It’s nice to meet you properly. We’ve heard so much about you.” The scent of her wild silvery-purple hair catches in my nose. A hint of coconut with a faint smell of pot.
“Not too bad, I hope.” I huff out a laugh, hoping to break the tension I feel sizzling around the table.
“All in the past.” Shelly’s father reaches out a hand, his cream tunic sleeve rising up his arm to reveal a copper bracelet. “We’re family now,” he says with a smile as I shake his hand. “Call me Marley.”
Both Shelly’s parents are warm and welcoming, completely unconventional and nonconformists, which is refreshing.
I relax my shoulders as I sit down in the spare seat between my ex-wife and Marley.
Merryssa gives me a knowing look as if she can smell the weed, too. We were both young once and studying together at Oxford. The stuff was readily available if you knew the right people.
I don’t blame them. I had a shot of Dutch courage before I came here tonight, but something tells me this isn’t a one-off for them. Though the night can’t possibly go as sour as the last time I had dinner with Shelly and Finn. Poor Bentley, Shelly’s enemy and the local dentist, ended up with a broken nose. Finn assured me he had it coming.
I look over at my son and my chest fills with pride. He may not have carried on with the development business like I’d hoped, but I am proud of him for standing on his own two feet and following his heart with his paintings, and for standing up for the woman he loves, even if it landed him in the papers. Again.
“Are you ready to order?” a waiter says, his notepad and pen at the ready.
“I haven’t even looked at the menu yet.”
“Can you give us five minutes, Liam?” Finn says. Wherever we go, he seems to know everyone by their first name.
I’ve lived here for years and don’t know the locals like he does. Perhaps I should get out more.
While I peruse the menu, Merryssa talks animatedly to Shelly, her fingers tucking her shoulder-length brunette hair behind her ears. It’s hard to concentrate on the task when all I want to do is take my ex-wife to a quiet table and have her all to myself.
The last time we were in a room together must be when Finn graduated some years ago. But we check in on the phone from time to time and let’s just say, I don’t follow British affairs because I’m interested in UK politics.
“Tell me more about the hen do,” Merryssa says.
Shelly furrows her brow, looking to Finn for help.
I shake my head with a chuckle. “Merry, nobody calls it a hen do, here.” I look around the table. “She means the bachelorette party.”
Celeste laughs. “Marley and I learned so many new phrases when we toured the UK this summer, but hen do is a new one.”
Shelly sighs. “I’m worried it’s going to suck. I’m just having a day at the spa, afternoon tea and then drinks afterwards.”
Merry dips into the bread rolls in the centre of the table. “Sounds perfect to me. Why is that lame?”
I place my napkin on my lap as I explain to my ex-wife how things are done now. “Because everyone takes weekends away or even a full week’s vacation. It isn’t usually just one party anymore. People want a full-on getaway with goodie bags like they’re invited to some VIP event.”
Merryssa rolls her eyes. “In my day, we just had a night at Blackpool.”
“Blackpool sounds like fun. What is it?” Celeste says.
Merry waves a hand in the air. “Britain’s version of Vegas, but a lot less glam. My friend went home with one of the strippers. The sailor, I think, or was it the policeman? Could have been the cowboy.”
A chuckle rocks my shoulders. “Are you sure it was a stripper she went home with? You’ve just gone through the band members of the Village People. Did she stay at the YMCA?”
She swats my thigh under the table. “I forgot how funny you were, Alex.” Her sarcasm isn’t lost on me.
“I won’t be having any strippers,” Shelly says, taking a sip of wine. She screws her face up. “Does the wine taste off to you?”
Finn has a drink from her glass. “Tastes all right to me.”
“Maybe we should hire some. They could give us a poolside show in the spa.” Celeste giggles to herself as she pours a glass of water for Shelly.
Finn’s eyes widen. “If Shelly wants a stripper, I can give her a private show on our wedding night. There’ll be no poolside escapades.”
