Page 23 of The Spare

‘Thank you,’ she says. It’s stiff, but I can read between the lines.

‘It’s just the truth.’ I’m still holding her hand. I squeeze it again.

‘And thanks for bailing me out.’ She looks down and fondles the ribbon around the pretty bouquet of flowers in her lap.

‘No need to thank me,’ I say evenly. ‘I should be thanking you for taking a chance on me and my harebrained scheme.’

She laughs, but she doesn’t sound amused. ‘Most out-of-character thing I’ve ever done. That said, if you hadn’t stepped in, I’d be sitting at home with the blinds closed, eating my way through every last Christmas chocolate in the house.’

‘And look at us now. We’ve given them the scandal of the century.’

‘Ugh. Don’t say that,’ she groans, letting her head flop back again.

‘It’s true. We can have breakfast in bed tomorrow and go through the papers together, have a good laugh at the headlines. It’ll be fun.’

It’s a throwaway comment, but her entire body goes stiff. ‘Ben. I don’t think⁠—’

‘Relax,’ I tell her. ‘I have zero expectations for tonight. No one’s shagging anyone. I know it’ll take a while.’ Sadly for me.

She’s quiet for a moment. ‘Did you see your dad today?’

‘Yeah, just before I left.’

‘How was he?’

‘Not good. Every time I see him, I think it’ll be the last. He’s, like, three-quarters dead, as far as I can tell.’

She gasps. ‘That’s awful. Shit. And he’s going to be disturbed by the wedding. God, I feel awful.’

I need to put a stop to that kind of thinking right now. ‘The only reason you’re in this boat is because Pa insisted on moving the wedding up four months. You know as well as I do that it’s the only thing that matters to him before he pops his clogs. If anything, it will be a massive reassurance to him. That said, he wasn’t exactly handing out gold stars earlier. Ungrateful old git.’

‘I’m sorry. That’s shit.’ She pauses for a second, making a face that suggests she’s screwing up the courage to say something. ‘I think we could cancel Paris.’

‘We don’t have to,’ I say automatically. Xav and Slinks had a few nights booked in Paris for a kind of mini honeymoon. Their thinking was that they should leave a proper, longer trip until they were more comfortable in their marriage. Given the private jet factor, it was easy to swap his name out for mine. We’re supposed to be leaving after lunch tomorrow, but I have to say I’ve been having reservations—not only because of Pa, but because I suspect the last thing Slinks needs is to put a brave face on it and go cavorting off to France. That said, she’s been through enough this week. I want to make sure she takes the lead on all our plans. Whatever makes her life easier over the next few days, as she acclimatises to this new normal, I will do.

She rubs her thumb over my hand. ‘Ben. If your dad passes while you’re away, you’ll never forgive yourself.’

I stay silent. I won’t reveal the truth: that I’ve never seen anyone die before and have zero interest in sitting by Pa’s deathbed until he’s taken his last godawful, rasping breath. That I’d rather admire my beautiful bride’s appearance while drinking champagne with her in some lovely bistro than stare at the near-skeleton of the man who raised me.

That, if my small interaction with him today was any indication, we have nothing left to say to each other, anyway. I’m sure Slinky would be horrified by that—not because she imagines us to be close, but because she has a well-developed sense of propriety and optics, and my gallivanting around Paris on honeymoon while Pa prepares to die might not be the best of optics, especially since it’ll be me that inherits his title.

Perhaps it’s time to stop thinking—and behaving—like a second-born son.

‘I’m more worried about you,’ I say instead. ‘I’m sure this past week has taken it out of you. I can’t promise we won’t all be in some awful limbo if we stay—I can’t imagine it will be a barrel of laughs—but it might buy you some time, at least, to get your head straight.’

She gives me a terse nod of appreciation, but I don’t miss the relief that flashes so briefly over her features. ‘It’s decided, then. I couldn’t live with myself if we went away and your dad died.’ A shrug. ‘And you may have a teeny, tiny point about it giving me a breather.’

God knows she’s not the only one who could use some time to get their head straight after the week we’ve both had.

CHAPTER 11

Selena

The wedding reception is a bit of a blur, although I will admit that Belvedere looks incredible. The grand oak staircase in the main hallway is a standout, garlanded as it is with winter greenery and echoes of the white flowers we had in the church. Charlotte and I collaborated on Christmas décor for the house that could be easily added to for the wedding.

I find myself clinging to Benedict during the reception, gratefully gripping his hand as he leads us through the throngs of inquisitive and downright titillated guests. It’s as if I’m worried about ending up alone and cornered and going off script. My intention is to look as convincingly happy as possible that I ended up with the right de Vere brother while giving the vultures absolutely nothing of substance.

‘Poor Xavier,’ one of Ben’s great-aunts says with a doleful look at him. ‘He must be devastated. What a shocking thing to do to your brother.’