now…My two sisters are here. Their daughters had flash weddings in Sydney—no money spared—and you know what? They’re jealous. They’re jealous of their little sister who married Fred Grubb and never has any money to her name.’ She hugged Jenny, and there were tears slipping down her face. ‘He’s fabulous,’ she whispered. ‘You’re so lucky.’
Guy was fabulous? Jenny was lucky? Jenny examined the comment from all sides, then decided to ignore it and hand out a few more drinks.
She couldn’t quite ignore it.
Guy was everywhere, working hands-on, making sure the event went without a hitch. He was dressed as a bodyguard, armed and dangerous, his slicked-down hair making his face look somehow menacing, his mock pistols too obvious, moving among the crowd, making amiable if-you-don’t-have-a-good-time-I’ll-punch-your-lights-out comments—sure his wedding couple were safe.
I’d think I was safe if I had him for a bodyguard, too, Jenny thought while she dispensed drinks. But she shoved the notion aside and went to make sure the cake, an overblown affair, adorned with a miniature gangster and his bride driving away in their fancy car—where had Guy found these props?—was ready for cutting.
She put the thought of Guy to one side.
But she stayed achingly aware of him.
And Guy…?
He moved through the wedding with his customary efficiency, ensuring each and every guest took home memories to cherish. Whether it was adroit flirting with the bridesmaids, bullying Uncle Ern to take Cousin Cecilia onto the dance floor, or removing the third glass of champagne from fifteen-year-old Bert’s grasp and replacing it with cola. ‘That stuff is a lady’s drink—I never touch it,’ he told the kid, who gazed at Guy in suspicion and then decided that maybe cola really was okay. Wherever there was a need, there he was.
But at any given moment Guy knew Jenny’s whereabouts. She was dressed in a pert maid’s uniform, doing the same as him, working the crowd. He watched her laughter and her affection for these people. He watched as people responded to her with affection, and the more he saw of her the more his mind had to dwell on.
Jenny.
The night wore on. The crowd started to thin.
His awareness of Jenny built.
And the crazy idea from the night after the beach incident became louder and louder in his head. You’re thinking of marrying?
Yes. Yes, he was.
He couldn’t stay independent without her, he thought. It was a dumb notion, but maybe if he married her and kept her safe he could get her out of his system?
Or not. Whatever.
You’re thinking of marrying.
Jenny had no time to talk to Guy until Daryl and Kylie had driven away, their found-for-the-occasion Buick trailing a suitable clattering of ancient shoes and tin cans. The guests dispersed with reluctance, the crew cleared the mess, and Jenny was left with Guy.
‘That was fantastic,’ she told him as they emerged into the warm night air, glad to be free of the fog inside. ‘It was the best wedding.’
‘It was, wasn’t it?’ Guy said. He flicked a switch and the lights of the hall disappeared. They were left in darkness, their two cars standing in solitary state in the abandoned car park. ‘I’d forgotten how much fun it was to be hands-on.’
‘I loved it.’ She sighed in exhausted pleasure. ‘There’s no nicer thing than a truly happy wedding.’
‘No,’ he said, and paused.
It was one a.m. It was time she was home, Jenny thought ruefully. Henry would be awake at six, and the next day was huge. There was still planning to do for Anna and Barret’s wedding, and Christmas was in two days’ time.
Christmas…
Christmas without Ben was awful. She’d hated the last two Christmases. But now…things had changed, she thought, and she wasn’t sure how. All she knew was that in the last few days she’d changed. She was no longer dreading Christmas.
Because of this man?
Maybe, but he didn’t have to know it, she
Guy was fabulous? Jenny was lucky? Jenny examined the comment from all sides, then decided to ignore it and hand out a few more drinks.
She couldn’t quite ignore it.
Guy was everywhere, working hands-on, making sure the event went without a hitch. He was dressed as a bodyguard, armed and dangerous, his slicked-down hair making his face look somehow menacing, his mock pistols too obvious, moving among the crowd, making amiable if-you-don’t-have-a-good-time-I’ll-punch-your-lights-out comments—sure his wedding couple were safe.
I’d think I was safe if I had him for a bodyguard, too, Jenny thought while she dispensed drinks. But she shoved the notion aside and went to make sure the cake, an overblown affair, adorned with a miniature gangster and his bride driving away in their fancy car—where had Guy found these props?—was ready for cutting.
She put the thought of Guy to one side.
But she stayed achingly aware of him.
And Guy…?
He moved through the wedding with his customary efficiency, ensuring each and every guest took home memories to cherish. Whether it was adroit flirting with the bridesmaids, bullying Uncle Ern to take Cousin Cecilia onto the dance floor, or removing the third glass of champagne from fifteen-year-old Bert’s grasp and replacing it with cola. ‘That stuff is a lady’s drink—I never touch it,’ he told the kid, who gazed at Guy in suspicion and then decided that maybe cola really was okay. Wherever there was a need, there he was.
But at any given moment Guy knew Jenny’s whereabouts. She was dressed in a pert maid’s uniform, doing the same as him, working the crowd. He watched her laughter and her affection for these people. He watched as people responded to her with affection, and the more he saw of her the more his mind had to dwell on.
Jenny.
The night wore on. The crowd started to thin.
His awareness of Jenny built.
And the crazy idea from the night after the beach incident became louder and louder in his head. You’re thinking of marrying?
Yes. Yes, he was.
He couldn’t stay independent without her, he thought. It was a dumb notion, but maybe if he married her and kept her safe he could get her out of his system?
Or not. Whatever.
You’re thinking of marrying.
Jenny had no time to talk to Guy until Daryl and Kylie had driven away, their found-for-the-occasion Buick trailing a suitable clattering of ancient shoes and tin cans. The guests dispersed with reluctance, the crew cleared the mess, and Jenny was left with Guy.
‘That was fantastic,’ she told him as they emerged into the warm night air, glad to be free of the fog inside. ‘It was the best wedding.’
‘It was, wasn’t it?’ Guy said. He flicked a switch and the lights of the hall disappeared. They were left in darkness, their two cars standing in solitary state in the abandoned car park. ‘I’d forgotten how much fun it was to be hands-on.’
‘I loved it.’ She sighed in exhausted pleasure. ‘There’s no nicer thing than a truly happy wedding.’
‘No,’ he said, and paused.
It was one a.m. It was time she was home, Jenny thought ruefully. Henry would be awake at six, and the next day was huge. There was still planning to do for Anna and Barret’s wedding, and Christmas was in two days’ time.
Christmas…
Christmas without Ben was awful. She’d hated the last two Christmases. But now…things had changed, she thought, and she wasn’t sure how. All she knew was that in the last few days she’d changed. She was no longer dreading Christmas.
Because of this man?
Maybe, but he didn’t have to know it, she
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