Chapter 16
If it wasn’t for Cherry throwing up all over the floor, I would have followed Hank Junior to find out exactly what he meant by ‘taking care’ of Luke.
‘We know nothing about him!’ I hiss to Matteo.
The barman is inspecting the mess with a horrified expression, but he has conjured a mop out of thin air and is scrutinising the sea of vomit sliding around the floor.
Unfortunately, Cherry has positioned the contents of her stomach, a vibrant yellow liquid, between the group and the bar.
He is trapped on one side and everyone else is trapped on the other. Tash is livid.
‘Better out than in, as they say,’ says Cherry, wiping at her mouth with a weary expression.
The air is filled with a pungent, sickly-sweet smell.
‘Morning sickness. I have morning sickness because I am pregnant.’ Her tone is becoming increasingly angry.
‘That’s what happens when a man impregnates a woman without telling her. ’
Cherry’s words hang in the air, causing an abrupt halt to all the shrieking.
‘What?’ says Cherry, accusingly.
‘You were… unconscious at the time?’ Big Sue appears to swallow a lump in her throat. This is all getting very dark, very quickly.
‘No,’ Cherry says, impatiently.
A collective sigh of relief reverberates around the pod.
‘Sometimes I can’t feel it going in,’ she explains, bluntly. ‘It’s a bit thin, that’s all. Plus, I was unloading the dishwasher at the time. My mind was on other things. And he’s going thin on top, did I mention that? He never warned me that might happen. I’m so bloody furious with him!’
She’s not exactly painting the most romantic picture of wedded bliss.
None of us know where to look. Cherry has started to go nuclear on the world’s tallest ride, and we are right at the top with half the journey still to go, and a pool of sick is taking up three quarters of the space. Oh, and the windows don’t open.
* * *
Finally, we arrive back on solid ground. Matteo and I barely had time to discuss the Hank Junior situation because it felt as though we were being listened to the whole of the way down. Everyone was pretty much silent. Stunned at the bizarre predicament we have once again found ourselves in.
‘Well, that was eventful,’ murmurs Matteo. He has regained the power of speech. ‘I’ll have a word with Hank. Find out what he means exactly.’
I feel nervous as I watch him walk over to Hank Junior, who has his arm around Liberty’s waist. She is looking adoringly up at him.
He smiles when Matteo approaches. He puts a hand on Matteo’s shoulder.
They both laugh in a forced kind of way, and Matteo makes his way back to me with a fake smile almost splitting his face in two.
Before he can explain, we are yet again distracted. ‘That was the most miserable fifteen minutes of my life,’ wails Liam, gagging as he sprints from the pod.
Manny, who was far from professional in the way he kept screaming each time the vomit slid closer to him with each movement of the pod, has radioed for the cleaning team who are there to greet us with scowls.
The ride doesn’t stop, they remind us. They have less than two minutes to clean it up otherwise they have to go right round, trapped inside.
‘Sorry, guys.’ Ah. Poor Cherry. It’s not her fault her thinning-haired husband put his sperm inside her while she was trying to tidy the kitchen.
I instruct everyone to walk back to the hotel, seeing as it is a lovely sunny day and approximately only a seven-minute walk.
Because of the Cherry incident, everyone suddenly needs some fresh air and alone time.
Liberty and Hank take the opportunity to slope off in the opposite direction. Likewise Big Mand and Big Sue.
Ged screws his eyes at Sister Kevin. ‘Happy birthday, by the way. How old did you say—’
Tash grabs Sister Kevin by the arm. ‘Connie, pet. Can you look after Cherry? Thanks, love.’ And within seconds they are speeding away from us.
Oh, crap.
‘Sure,’ I say.
‘We’re going to pop into the Bellagio to do some filming,’ says Liam. ‘See you later, Connie, babes. And thanks for organising. Mwah-mwah.’ He and Ged can’t wait to get away.
‘How many times?’ Cherry says to me. ‘I don’t need a friggin’ babysitter.’ She marches off, furious with her husband and the world.
Everyone has disappeared. The coast is clear. ‘Well, that was much easier than I thought,’ I say.
Matteo fixes me a look that makes my toes curl. ‘Time to get married?’
* * *
We make the conscious decision not to ruin the day by speculating over Hank Junior’s remarks. In fact, we laugh it off as nerves.
‘A lot has happened in the past few days. We’re tired.’
‘Of course, we are going to interpret things in unusual ways,’ I agree readily.
‘Maybe Hank is jet-lagged and behaving differently? Where did he say he flew in from?’
‘Who knows? Maybe it is the Vegas culture and that’s how they all talk?’ I reason.
‘Maybe it is the fake murderer’s moustache Liberty has been making him wear that has given us a false impression of him?’
By the time we arrive at The Venetian, we have more or less convinced ourselves that Hank Junior is simply here in Vegas, without friends, for a quick relaxing break from his charity business that he runs to save animals and old people from neglect.
And that if anything was off about him then Liberty would surely let us know.
After all, she has a degree in mood management.
She is practically a trained psychiatrist.
We hurry to our room to get ready, scampering along the maze-like corridors.
Matteo holds the door open for me. I hesitate a fraction and try to quash the nerves before I go in.
We’re really doing this. We’re going to pretend to get married.
I’m going to transform myself from downtown Barbie to uptown bride.
Matteo studies me, smoothing back a lock of the wig hair from my forehead with tenderness. ‘You okay?’
I summon a bright smile for him.
‘You’re like no other woman I’ve ever known.
’ He trails the backs of his fingers down my face and kisses me in a slow, languid way, as though we have all the time in the world.
The weight of his hands on my waist ignites a fire deep within my belly as my body responds to him in its customary way.
I loop my arms around his neck and press myself against him.
The door closes with a click and Matteo holds my gaze. ‘I will never stop wanting you.’
His words melt against my neck as his hands loosen the straps and buckles of my outfit. I slide my hands beneath his shirt to feel his smooth, hot skin. He shivers at my touch.
‘Constance,’ he murmurs against my lips.
The way he says my name sends delicious tingles up my spine.
My fingers slip down to inside his waistband.
He takes a sharp inhale, holding his breath as I undo the zip of his shorts.
Our breathing quickens as he hardens and pulls me to him.
We find a patch of wall to kiss against. He knots both my hands in his, holding them above my head as our kiss deepens.
We make our way across the room in a tangle of hands in hair, under clothes and between legs.
‘I will never stop wanting to kiss you,’ I whisper into his ear as he leaves a burning trail of hot kisses down my throat and along my collarbone, his fingers working their way inside my knickers.
It causes an unholy throbbing of desire to pulsate throughout my entire body. I can barely breathe.
‘Then don’t stop.’ Matteo pushes his fingers inside me, expertly sliding them back and forth. His thumb rubbing gentle circles on my sweet spot causes me to moan loudly.
A knock on the door snaps us out of the moment.
‘Ignore it,’ he groans, one of his hands tugging down my top to release a nipple for him to close his lips over, the other softly bringing me to orgasm. The knocking persists as I shudder against his hand. We lock eyes. I am properly panting. He’s checking to see if I’m satisfied. I totally am.
* * *
When he eventually opens the door, two orgasms each later, we find a stunning bouquet of flowers on the floor outside.
Matteo has the foresight to check that they are our wedding flowers and not another bouquet from Hank Junior to Liberty.
As he hands them to me, it’s as though we’re having a conversation without words. It’s time to get married.
‘You shower first, then I’ll go in,’ he offers, checking the time on his phone. ‘I’m guessing you’ll need more time than me to get ready.’
So accurate. So thoughtful.
Once I disappear into the shower, my breathing returns to normal.
It isn’t until the warm water sprays against my shoulders and spine that I realise how overjoyed I am.
I study my reflection. I’m so far from the mouse I used to be.
It’s as though Matteo lights a spark in me every time we get together.
I become more. More alive. More adventurous. Just more.
When I emerge from the bathroom in a hotel robe, I see Matteo is on the phone. He is pacing up and down.
‘No, Birdie. I told you I’m busy this afternoon. Look, you meet the client, and maybe we can get together tomorrow to discuss it. Uh-huh. No. Then let him wait.’
He switches off his phone with an impatient growl, but breaks into a half-smile when he sees me. He throws the phone on the bed.
‘I’m so done,’ he says.
‘You still have time for a shower,’ I say. ‘It’ll relax you. Such a shame I broke that jar of soothing pond algae.’
A chuckle escapes his lips. He throws me a grateful smile. ‘You’re good for me,’ he says, closing the bathroom door behind him.
His words dance around my brain, instantly catapulting me into action. Face. Hair. Body cream. Perfume. Outfit.
I have completed my ‘no make-up’ make-up and most of my hair when I hear Matteo turning off the shower.
I take out all the garment bags from the wardrobe and lay them on the bed.
The wardrobe door has a full-length mirror on the inside.
I spend a few moments staring back at my reflection.
My mother’s eyes peer back at me. Would she do something as wild and reckless as this?
I unclip my locket necklace, open it to reveal her photo and take in her young, vibrant expression.
She was brave and bold and knew exactly what she wanted to do with her life.
She loved singing with a passion and she loved me and my father with the same fierce intensity, as though we were the only two human beings on the planet.
I see her staring back at me through wide green eyes.
I remove my hair curlers and let the freshly dried brown curls tumble down my back. I look just like her. I have her thick, shiny hair and her tall, slender frame. I have her cheekbones and long lashes. She is with me always.
‘I’m happy, Mam,’ I say into the mirror. ‘I’m really, really happy.’ I wipe a single tear from my cheek. She’d be proud of me. I know she would.
A movement catches my eye. It’s Matteo. He’s standing with an expression of compassion on his face. He gets me. He gets that I’m on a journey.
I return his smile, and he takes that as permission to come and hold me.
He looks insanely hot in his wedding suit.
Unbelievably handsome with his hair slightly damp, his face cleanly shaved and smelling of lemon balm.
Fragrant aftershave blooms from his body as he holds me tight in his strong arms. He rests his chin on the top of my head and makes eye contact with me through the mirror.
I feel an energy flow between us as a feeling of calm sweeps through me.
We feel right. I sag against him, and we stay like that until I’m ready to be released.
‘Is it okay for me to go?’ he asks. ‘I need to speak to the officiator in person. Something about the vows. I thought that you’d prefer the time to finish getting ready instead of coming with me?’
‘Yes, please,’ I say, quite relieved. It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding, whatever the circumstances. ‘Why don’t I meet you at the gondola?’
‘If you’re sure,’ he says. ‘I can stay and help?’
‘I’m fine. I’ll be down in thirty minutes.’
I watch him go, the tuxedo hugging his tall frame in all the right places.
His shirt is taut across his muscular stomach, his jacket close-fitting like it was tailor-made.
The trousers, slim-fit, flow loosely over his solid thighs and athletic legs.
He turns at the door to give me one last smile, causing sparks to erupt like fireworks in my heart, before it closes.
I am so ready for this.