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She glanced down at her A-cup chest. “Well, he must be, right? If he’s with me?”
“Doesn’t that woman have any class? He’s at a private party—leave him be. Tom should’ve had a word with his creepy relatives.”
“It’s his wedding day, he’s got more important things to worry about than being Mark’s bodyguard. Anyway, that’s my job.”
Lucy laughed, watching Freddie leave Mark’s side. “And you suck at it.” She stared, not afraid to be obvious with her stink eye. “You should’ve told her to back off. She’s taking loads of selfies. Even Freddie’s had enough.”
“It doesn’t matter what I say. Mark won’t stop until she walks away.”
Absorbed in their conversation, Mark took his time, signing three more autographs for the woman, his kind eyes making her feel like the most important person in the room. Alex always joked that her boyfriend’s superpower was charisma. Funny or not, it was true—people were drawn to Mark and loved talking to him.
“Keegs is impressive,” said Lucy. “He asks questions—and actually listens. If I were in his shoes, I’d scribble my initials and be off.”
“You and me both.” Alex turned back to the bar.
“This must piss you off to no end, though.”
“It was cool in the beginning and didn’t happen too often, but now…” She smiled, trying to get the bartender’s attention. “Our time together is so rare. We’ll be having a private moment and suddenly get interrupted. It’s unsettling and scary. These people feel like they know Mark, but they’re strangers. I guess for a guy it’s not frightening, but it freaks me out a bit. This one’s Tom’s cousin, so…”
“God, she’s practically drooling. Mark should’ve worn wellies.”
Alex looked over her shoulder. “Yeah, women like her, they don’t rein it in when I’m standing right there. Imagine what they’re like when I’m not in the room.” She didn’t elaborate—she didn’t have to. Alex had learned to trust Mark; women hit on him all the time, but he never took the bait.
“She’s called her friends over now.” Lucy crossed her arms as Alex turned around.
The Kensington squad draped their Pilate-toned arms over Mark’s shoulders and around his waist, desperately clinging to him for photo after photo. He chatted, posed patiently, and accepted more napkins to autograph.
A short brunette, no older than fifteen, eased into the scrum and asked Mark a question. He leaned forward, his undivided attention all hers. The booming bass on the dance floor made it difficult to think, let alone hold an easy conversation. He shook his head and encouraged the teen to repeat her query in his ear.
A smile rose from Alex’s lips. This fan, polite and respectful, wasn’t like the others, grabbing at him, looking for their pound of famous flesh. Moments like this one made Alex proud to be a fan and even prouder to be Mark’s girlfriend. She relaxed against the bar. Mark grinned warmly, answering the teenager’s question while signing her paper.
The thumping music faded as Naomi stepped forward. “It’s time, ladies!” She waved her bouquet. “Before I pass the torch to the next bride-to-be, Tommy and I would like to thank everyone for celebrating with us.”
Naomi’s new husband snuck up behind her, an unlit celebratory cigar in his mouth and a finger pointing at the shiny platinum band on his left hand. The guests howled with laughter, the notion of Tom married unthinkable just a few months ago. Naomi jutted out her chin and smiled. He was hers, and she was his, their vows and wedding rings, like Kryptonite repelling anyone who deemed otherwise.
“We couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful sendoff. We wish we could spend more time with you, but the beaches of Bora Bora beckon.”
The crowd oohed with mock envy.
Tom yanked the cigar from his mouth, snaked his arms around Naomi’s waist, and kissed her neck like no one was watching.
“Maybe that will be me and Mark soon, eh?” Alex’s eyes met her boyfriend’s in the crowd of glowing faces. He winked and resumed signing an autograph.
Lucy held Alex’s hand, giving it a squeeze.
“Now would all the single ladies—”
“And poofs, darling!” Freddie shouted from the far side of the bar. He handed his camera to Simon with instructions to video the flower fight for his fledgling YouTube channel.
“And poofs.” Naomi laughed. “Gather here now, please.” She raised her eyebrows not so subtly at Alex and Lucy.
“Come on!” Alex dragged Lucy by the hand. “It’ll be a laugh!” She looked over at Mark, who was now free of female company and deep in conversation with Harry.
Alex and Lucy lurked behind Freddie, who was jockeying with the competition—a gaggle of late-arriving Mamma Mia! castmates fresh from their curtain call, the pack of Kensington heiresses post Mark assault, and a hiccupping Caprice, tangerine arms outstretched, ready to pounce on the prize and the marital promise held within its petals.
Tom stepped aside as Naomi turned her back for the toss. “Un…deux…trois!”
The bouquet shot over her shoulder, barely clearing the festive bunting strung below the pub’s ceiling. Squealing women reached out with impatient hands, clawing and scratching for position, their feral efforts jostling Alex aside. Caprice swatted in desperation, but her booze-addled balance sealed her fate. She careened sideways into Lucy with such force that the bouquet of posies catapulted off her head and landed safely in the arms of Freddie.
