Wedding Night

Wedding Night Page 129

Miserably, I scroll again through my other messages, noticing that I have loads of texts from Fliss. Just seeing her name makes me cringe. She warned me about this marriage. She was right. Why is she always right?

The thought of telling her the truth is too excruciating. Too humiliating. I can’t—at least, not straightaway.

I start a new text, feeling a desperate, childish defiance, a determination to prove her wrong.

Hi Fliss. All wonderful here. Guess what? Ben is selling his company to Yuri Zhernakov and we’re going on his yacht!!

As I stare at the words, they mock me. Happy, happy, happy. Lies, lies, lies. My fingers add a new lie:

I’m so glad I married Ben.

A tear drips onto my BlackBerry, but I ignore it and type on.

We’re so happy together; it’s perfect.

More tears are dripping down, and I roughly wipe my eyes. And then my fingers start tapping again and this time I can’t stop:

Imagine the best marriage in the world. Mine is better. We are so sympatico, so alive with the future. Compared with Richard, Ben is a marvel of a man. I haven’t given Richard a single thought.…

23

FLISS

I’ve never felt so chastened in my life. Finally, I can see the light. The truth. The actuality. I was wrong. One hundred percent, totally, utterly, absolutely wrong. How could my instincts have been so off? How can I be such an idiot?

I don’t just feel chastened: I feel crushed. Devastated. I’m standing in Sofia airport, reading Lottie’s text, prickling all over as I think of what I’ve put her through during the last few days. Her honeymoon has been hellish—yet she and Ben seem to be bonded better than ever.

This whole stupid farce was about Daniel and me. I was indulging my own needs. I was looking at the world through skewed glasses, and Lottie was the innocent victim. The only saving grace is she doesn’t know what I did, and she never will know. Thank God.

I turn back to Lottie’s text, ignoring the boarding call for Ikonos. I’m not going to Ikonos. I’m not going anywhere near my sister’s honeymoon. I’ve done enough damage already. I’m finding a nice safe flight back to London for Noah and me. This whole ridiculous stunt is over.

Imagine the best marriage in the world. Mine is better. We are so sympatico, so alive with the future. Compared with Richard, Ben is a marvel of a man. I haven’t given Richard a single thought, and I really can’t remember what it was I ever liked about him. Ben has so many wonderful plans for the future!! He is going to work with Yuri Zhernakov on joint projects!! We are going to travel and sail in the Caribbean, then buy our French farmhouse!! Ben would like our children to be bilingual!!!

As I read, I feel a twinge of envy. This Ben sounds like Superman. Lorcan’s view of him seems seriously inaccurate.

The only low point happened at the guest house. It turns out I started the fire all those years ago. It was my scented candles. So that was a shock. But otherwise it’s the perfect, dreamy honeymoon. Lucky me!!!!

I stare at the phone in shock. She started the fire? The fire that changed her life? I can’t help exclaiming out loud, and Richard looks up sharply.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I say automatically. I can’t share Lottie’s private text with him. Can I?

Oh, sod it. I need to tell someone who will understand.

“Lottie started the fire,” I say succinctly. To my satisfaction, he understands instantly, as I knew he would.

“You’re kidding.” His face drops.

“I know.”

“But that’s huge. Is she OK?”

“She says so.” I gesture at the phone, but he shakes his head resolutely.

“She’ll be putting on a brave face. She’ll be in a real state.” His expression changes to a kind of protective anger. “Does this Ben realize? Will he look after her?”

“I suppose.” I shrug awkwardly. “He’s doing all right so far.”

“Can I see the text?”

I pause for only an instant. We’ve gone too far in this adventure to start being coy now.

He reads it silently, but I can see from the hunch of his shoulders how affected he is. I can see him reading it through again, and then a third time. At last he looks up.

“She’s in love with him,” he says, and there’s a kind of brutality to the way he speaks, as though he’s punishing himself. “Isn’t she? She’s in love with the man, and I just didn’t want to face up to it. I’ve been a fucking idiot.”

“Richard—”

“I had this stupid dream that I’d arrive there, tell her how I feel, sweep her off her feet, and she’d run off with me.…” He shakes his head as though the very thought is painful to him. “What planet am I on? This has to end. Now.”