Wedding Night
Page 87“Fliss, what the hell’s going on?” expostulates Richard in an undertone as soon as she’s walked away.
“Can I have a credit card to put in my wallet?” asks Noah, examining it. “Can I have an AmEx? Can I have points?”
Oh God. He knows about AmEx points at the age of seven? This is mortifying. Almost as bad as when we checked in to a hotel in Rome and, by the time I’d found change for a tip, Noah had already asked to see a different room.
I get out my iPod and hand it to Noah, who whoops with delight and slots the earphones into his ears. Then I lean toward Richard and lower my voice.
“Noah told some made-up story to the ground staff.” I bite my lip, feeling a sudden relief at sharing my worries. “Richard, he’s turned into a complete fantasist. He does it at school. He told one teacher he’d had a heart transplant and another he had a surrogate baby sister.”
“What?” Richard’s face drops.
“I know.”
“Where did he get those kind of ideas, anyway? A surrogate baby sister, for God’s sake?”
“Off a DVD they were playing in the special-needs department,” I say wryly.
“Right.” Richard digests this. “So what story did he tell this lot?” He gestures at the air hostess.
“No idea. Apart from the fact that you play a starring role as a surgeon.” I meet his eye and we suddenly both snort with laughter.
“It’s awful.”
“Poor little guy.” Richard ruffles Noah’s head, and he looks up briefly from his iPod trance, a beatific smile on his face. “Do they think he’s doing it because of the divorce?”
My residual laughter melts away. “Probably,” I say lightly. “Or, you know, the evil career mother.”
Richard winces. “Sorry.” He pauses. “How’s that all going, anyway? Have you signed the settlement yet?”
I open my mouth to answer honestly—then stop myself. I’ve bored Richard many times over dinner about Daniel. I can see he’s bracing himself for the rant. Why did I never notice people bracing themselves before?
“Oh, fine.” I give him my new saccharine smile. “All good! Let’s not talk about it.”
“Right.” Richard looks taken aback. “Great! So … any new men on the horizon?” His voice suddenly seems to have doubled in volume, and I flinch. Before I can stop myself, I glance at Lorcan, who is sitting by the opposite window, engrossed in his laptop, and thankfully didn’t seem to hear.
“No,” I say. “Nothing. No one.”
I’m telling myself furiously not to look at Lorcan, not to even think about Lorcan. But it’s like telling yourself not to think about a rabbit. Before I can stop them, my eyes have darted to him again. This time, Richard follows my gaze.
“What?” He peers at me in astonishment. “Him?”
“Him?”
“No! I mean … yes.” I feel flustered. “Once.”
“Him?” Richard sounds mortally offended. “But he’s on the other side!”
“There aren’t sides.”
Richard is surveying Lorcan with narrowed, suspicious eyes. After a moment, Lorcan looks up. He seems startled to see us both gazing at him. My whole body floods with heat and I abruptly turn away.
“Stop it!” I hiss. “Don’t look at him!”
“You were looking at him too,” points out Richard.
“Only because you were!”
“Fliss, you seem hassled.”
“I’m not hassled,” I say with dignity. “I’m simply trying to be an adult in an adult situation— You’re looking at him again!” I jab at his arm. “Stop!”
“Ben’s oldest friend. A lawyer. Works at his company.” I shrug.
“So … is it a thing?”
“No. It’s not a thing. We just hooked up and then …”
“You unhooked.”
“Exactly.”
“He looks like a bundle of laughs,” says Richard, still surveying Lorcan critically. “I’m being sarcastic,” he adds after a pause.
“Yup.” I nod. “Got that.”
Lorcan looks up again and raises his eyebrows. The next minute he’s unbuckling his seat belt and coming over to where we’re sitting.
“Great,” I murmur. “Thanks, Richard. Hello.” I smile sweetly up at Lorcan. “Enjoying the flight?”