Wedding Night

by Sophie Kinsella

  “Maybe we are on paper,” I say. “Maybe we signed papers and exchanged rings. But you didn’t really commit to me, and I didn’t really commit to you. Not properly. Not thoughtfully.” I give a gusty sigh. “We never even dated properly. I don’t see how I can have any hold over you.”

  “Wow.” He looks incredulous. “Lottie, you’re amazing. You’re the most generous … broad-minded … you’re awesome.”

  “Whatever.” I shrug.

  For a while I’m silent. I might be keeping it together in front of Ben, but inside I feel battered by everything. I want to fall on someone’s shoulder and wail. Everything I thought is upside down. My marriage is over. I started the fire. Fail, fail, fail.

  I sit there, my entire body twisted in tension. I feel like my brain is a confused, whirling cloud, with only a few tiny rays of clarity. Like little nudges pushing me in a certain direction. The thing is …

  Here’s the thing. Ben is very hot. And good in the sack. And I am absolutely desperate. And maybe it would help me briefly forget how I nearly killed twenty innocent students.

  Ben is quiet too, staring out over the arid olive grove, and at last he turns to me with a new glint in his eye.

  “Just had an idea,” he says.

  “Me too, actually,” I say.

  “First and final shag? For old times’ sake?”

  “My thoughts exactly. But not here.” I wrinkle my nose. “The mattresses were always gross.”

  “Back at the hotel?”

  “Sounds good.” I nod, feeling a tingle of excitement rise through me, like a bit of comfort in this whole sorry mess. We deserve this. We need this. First, it will be closure, and, second, it will distract me from my throbbing aching heart, and, third, I’ve been wanting to do this for nearly three weeks and I am going to go mad if we don’t.

  If we’d simply shagged each other senseless when we first met up, none of this would have happened. There’s a lesson there, somewhere.

  “I’ll tell Sarah we’re off and say our goodbyes.” Ben heads inside the guest house.

  As soon as he’s gone, I pull out my phone. Just then, as Ben was talking, I had a weird, psychic-type flash about Richard. It was as though I could sense him thinking about me, somewhere in the world. It was so vivid that I’m actually expecting to see Richard’s name in my phone. My fingers are fumbling as I press the keys, my heart thudding with sudden hope.

  But of course there’s nothing. No call, no message, nothing, even after I’ve scrolled through twice. I’m being idiotic. Why would there be? Richard’s in San Francisco, busy with his new life. I may miss him, but he doesn’t miss me.

  My spirits crash back down so heavily, I feel tears stinging my eyes again. Why am I even thinking about Richard? He’s gone. Gone. He’s not going to text me. He’s not going to call me. Let alone fly across the world to declare his undying love and say he wants to marry me after all (my secret, stupid, never-going-to-happen fantasy).

  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.”

  I almost can’t bear to see him give up, even though I’m doing the same myself.

  “But what about telling her how you feel? What about the competition?” I’m trying to rekindle his fire, but he shakes his head again.

  “I think I lost the comp
etition a long time ago, Fliss,” he says. “Fifteen years ago, to be exact. Don’t you?”

  “Maybe,” I say after a pause. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “She’s happily married with the love of her life. Good for her. Now I need to get a life.”

  “I think we both need to get lives,” I say slowly. “I’m as much to blame as you are. I encouraged you.”

  As I meet his eyes, I feel sadness at the realization that this is goodbye. If he and Lottie are over, then we’re over too. Over as friends. Over as siblings-in-law.

  There’s another call for passengers on the flight to Ikonos, but I ignore it.

  “Time to go,” says Lorcan, looking up from his BlackBerry. He’s sitting on an airport chair next to Noah, who is happily reading through a leaflet on security in Bulgarian. “What are you guys doing?” He takes in Richard’s stricken face. “What’s happened?”

  “I’ve been an idiot, is what happened,” says Richard with a sudden intensity. “Finally I see it. Finally.”

  “Me too.” I sigh. “That’s exactly how I feel. Finally I see it.”

  “We see it.”

  “Both of us.”

  “Right.” Lorcan seems to be taking in the situation. “So … it’s just me for Ikonos?”

  Richard thinks for a moment, then picks up his newly acquired City Heights Hotel tote bag.

  “I might come along. I’ll probably never have the chance to visit Ikonos again. I want to see the sunset. Lottie always told me the sunset was the best in the world. I’ll find a quiet place to watch it and then I’ll head back to San Francisco. She’ll never know I was there.”

  “What about you and Noah?” Lorcan turns to me. I’m about to tell him that wild horses wouldn’t drag me to Ikonos now when his BlackBerry bleeps.

  “It’s Ben. Hold on.” He starts reading the text, and an odd expression comes over his face. “I don’t believe it,” he mutters at last.

  “What?”

  Lorcan raises his eyes silently. He looks genuinely poleaxed.

  “Lorcan, what?” I feel a blade of worry. “Is Lottie OK?”

  “I will never understand Ben,” he says slowly, not answering my question. “Never.”

  “Is Lottie OK?” I persist. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s not what’s happened.…” A kind of sick expression passes over Lorcan’s face. “I’m not protecting him,” he says, as though to himself. “This is beyond the pale.”

  “Tell me!” I demand.

  “OK.” He exhales. “Two days into his marriage and he’s already fixing up a rendezvous with some other woman.”

  “What?” Richard and I speak in unison.

  “His PA is on holiday, so he wants mine to book him a weekend hotel in England. For him and some woman named Sarah. I’ve never even heard of her before. He’s saying …” He passes me the phone. “Well, look at what he’s saying.”

  I grab the phone and scan the text. I’m so stressed I can take in only about one word in three, but I get the gist.

  We met up after all these years … amazing body … you have to meet her.…

  “Bastard!” My incandescent cry echoes around Sofia airport. I feel so white-hot with fury, I may spontaneously combust. “My little sister loves this man! And this is the way he treats her!”

  “Even for Ben, it’s pretty low.” Lorcan is shaking his head.

  “She’s given him her heart. She’s given him her body and soul.” I’m shaking with fury. “How dare he? Where are they now?” I consult the text again. “Still at the guest house?”

  “Yes, but apparently they’re leaving there after lunch and returning to the hotel.”

  “Right. Richard.” I turn to him. “We have to rescue Lottie from this vile, odious man.”

  “Wait just a minute!” chimes in Lorcan. “What happened to ‘I’m never going to interfere in my sister’s life again’? What happened to ‘Hold me to my vow’?”

  “That was before,” I retort. “That’s when I was wrong.”

  “You’re still wrong!”

  “I’m not!”

  “You are. Fliss, you’ve lost perspective. You had it for about five minutes, and now you’ve lost it again.” Lorcan sounds so calm and reasonable, I flip out.

  “My perspective is, I’ve realized what a two-timing bastard your best friend is!” I glare at him accusingly and he shakes his head.

  “Don’t give me that. It’s not my fault.”

  “Do you want to read these texts?” I bang my BlackBerry with my hand for emphasis. “My poor trusting sister is absolutely besotted with Ben. She’s planning a life in France with him. She’s absolutely unaware of the fact he’s hooking up with some girl from the old days with an amazing body.” I’m close to tears. “It’s her honeymoon, for God’s sake. What kind of low-down worm is unfaithful on his honeymoon, before he’s even consummated his marriage?”

  “Now that you put it like that …,” allows Lorcan.

  “Well, I’m not going to stand for it. I’m saving my sister. Richard, are you in?”

  “In?” He shakes his head adamantly. “I’m not in anything. Lottie’s leading her own life. She doesn’t want me. She made that perfectly plain.”

  “But her marriage with Ben is on the rocks!” I cry in frustration. “Don’t you see?”

  “We don’t know that for sure,” says Richard. “And, anyway, what are you expecting me to do, pick up the pieces? Lottie chose Ben, and that’s something I have to live with.” He hoists his bag on his shoulder. “You can do what you like, but I’m going my own way. I’m finding a sunset and I’m watching it and I’m going to try to find some inner peace.”

  I stare at him in disbelief. Now he goes all Dalai Lama on me?

  “What about you?” I turn to Lorcan, who lifts his hands and shakes his head too.

  “Not my affair. I’m strictly here for business reasons. Once the restructuring papers are signed, I’m leaving Ben alone.”

  “So you’re both bailing out on me?” I glare at the two men. “Fine. Fine. I’ll save the day without you.” I extend a hand. “Come on, Noah. We’re going to Ikonos after all.”

  “OK. Have they done it?” he adds chattily as he gathers up all the Bulgarian leaflets he’s collected.

  “Done what?” I’m momentarily stunned.

  “Lottie and Ben. Have they put the sausage in the bun?”

  “Muffin,” amends Richard.

  “Cupcake,” corrects Lorcan.

  “Shut up, both of you!” I say frantically. I feel as though I’m losing control of everything. Do I have to have the facts-of-life conversation with my seven-year-old right now, in Sofia airport?

  Also, more pertinent: it’s a good question. Have they done it?

  “I don’t know,” I say at last, and put an arm round Noah. “We don’t know, darling. Nobody knows.”

  “Actually, I know.” Lorcan looks up from his BlackBerry. “Just got a new text from Ben.” His face twists a little. “Apparently the wedding night is a go. They’re heading back to the hotel in order to …” He glances at Noah. “Put it this way. The sausage is heading toward the cupcake.”

  “Nooooooooo!” My agonized cry rises to the roof of the building, and a few nearby passengers turn to stare. “But she has no idea what a treacherous cheating rat he is!” I look agitatedly from face to face. “We have to stop them!”

  “Fliss, calm down,” says Lorcan.

  “Stop them?” Richard looks shocked.

  “She’s been sabotaging their entire honeymoon,” explains Lorcan succinctly. “Didn’t you wonder why they were so unlucky?”

  “Jesus Christ, Fliss.” Richard looks shocked.

  “We need to board,” says Noah, tugging at my sleeve, but all three of us ignore him. Determination is coursing through my veins like molten steel. A crusader could not be any more crusading than I am right now.

  “That bastard is not going to break my sister’s heart.” I’m speed-dialing Nico. “Richard,
give me some more pointers. You have the inside track; you can help. What are Lottie’s particular turnoffs?”

  “We need to board,” says Noah again, and all three of us ignore him again.

  “I’m not telling you her turnoffs!” Richard sounds scandalized. “That’s private information!”

  “She’s my sister—” I break off as Nico answers.

  “Hello?” he says warily. “Fliss?”

  “Nico!” I exclaim. “Thank God you’re there! We need to take things up a level. Repeat, up a level.”

  “Fliss!” Nico sounds agitated. “I cannot continue with our arrangement! The staff, they are wondering what I am up to. We are arousing suspicion!”

  “You have to,” I say firmly. “They’re heading back to the hotel, and I’ll be there soon. Stop them from getting into bed meanwhile. Wrestle Ben to the ground if you have to. Whatever it takes!”

  “Fliss—”

  “We need to board, Mummy—”

  “Whatever it takes, Nico! Whatever it takes!”

  24

  LOTTIE

  I can hardly believe it’s true. Our hotel suite is empty. No staff milling around. No butlers. No harps. As I look around the sleek, silent furniture, I can feel a buzz of anticipation in the air. It’s as though the rooms are waiting for us to fill them with noise and heat and gasps and lovely, lovely sex.

  We arrived back at the hotel and came straight up here. Neither of us said a word. I’m blocking everything else out right now. All thoughts about our marriage. All thoughts about Richard. All thoughts about Sarah. My shame, my sadness, my humiliation—I’m blocking it all out. The only thing I’m focusing on is that insistent pulse inside me I’ve been feeling ever since I clapped eyes on Ben in that restaurant. I want him. He wants me. We deserve this.

  As he comes toward me, his eyes are darkening and I can tell he feels like I do: where to start? We have the whole experience ahead of us, like a delicious box of chocolates.

  “Did you put out DO NOT DISTURB?” I murmur as his lips find my neck.

  “Of course.”

  “And lock the door?”