Chapter 22
Nora
If I was getting married, this is how I’d do my hen weekend.
Light on organised fun: check.
No gimmicks or tack: check.
Just close friends and family, great food and wine, and one of the most gorgeous locations in the world: check.
And while I think it’s slightly co-dependent of Miles and Saoirse to be doing their hen and stag together, it’s also sweet. And the vibe they’ve mandated means it’s more like a pre-wedding icebreaker weekend than a crazy single-sex binge.
Miles flies us all out to Nice via two jets.
The guys take the Montague Group’s jet, and he charters another one for the girls.
I’m on duty, so I’m planning on monitoring the amount I drink very carefully, but I can’t help being swept up in the excitement.
Because I definitely got on the best jet.
I should have known Saoirse’s friends would be down to earth, but they’re hilarious.
On the Pink Jet, as Miles christened it, are Saoirse, me, Margot, Saoirse’s sisters Clodagh and Eimear and her former flatmates, Keeley and Becky.
The latter are both from New Zealand and work in the creche at the Montague Hotel.
Saoirse’s younger sisters are fit to burst with excitement, having flown over from Dublin yesterday.
Clodagh’s only eighteen, and I get the impression she’s feeling like she’s entered some kind of parallel universe. I can relate.
With Margot hitting the champagne like only someone who’s been relieved of her twin babies for the weekend can, I’d say it’s on me to be the sober adult on board (except for the pilots. Hopefully).
‘I have to say,’—Keeley raises her flute—‘I never expected to be getting on a fucking jet to go party in the south of France with Miles Montague. We were all totally terrified of him till you turned up and got in his pants, Sorsh.’
We all laugh, and Saoirse buries her face in her hands. ‘I was pretty scared of him, too. I always thought he disapproved of me. But now he’s like a teddy bear.’
‘Poor fucker,’ Becky says. ‘He totally eats out of the palm of your hand. But the burning question is, will there be any single hotties there? I’m desperate for a shag.’
‘You’re sharing a room with me.’ Keeley mock-glares at her. ‘So if you want a shag, it’ll have to be on the beach.’
‘A couple of months ago, I would have volunteered Theo for the job,’ Margot says. ‘But sadly for the rest of you, he’s smitten with the lovely Nora here.’
I blush and once again curse the level of deception we’re pulling on these good people.
‘Honestly, I’ve never seen him like this,’ Margot continues, ‘and I’ve known him for five years. He’s so sweet with you, Nora. I thought he was going to try to smuggle you on the guys’ jet just now.’
‘He was being ridiculous.’ I roll my eyes.
He was. He made a big song-and-dance about saying goodbye to me in front of everyone and even swung me down into an admittedly enjoyable Hollywood kiss on the tarmac.
If he keeps up this level of affection all weekend, I’m screwed.
He may be faking it, but the guy’s seriously infectious, and I’m only human.
Clodagh pipes up. ‘He’s such a ride. You’re so lucky!’
Saoirse’s mouth drops open. ‘Oh my God, Clodagh. You stay away from men like Theo Montague, you hear me? He’d eat you for breakfast.’
‘Let’s ask Nora if he eats her for breakfast,’ Becky quips, and everyone screams with laughter.
And I want to die.
Because that’s a visual I can’t even begin to allow.
I relax as the conversation thankfully turns away from Theo’s speculated affection (and appetite) for me towards the Percival brothers, who are on Miles’ jet with Theo, Stephen and Saoirse’s two brothers and are apparently family friends of the Montagues.
Theo’s already filled me in on them a little.
The five of them went to school together and, as Theo tells it, used to hit up the exclusive nightclubs of London for years before Miles and Stephen settled down.
If the girls here are looking for someone to show them a good time this weekend, I suspect the Percival brothers may be just the ticket.
There are moments when I look around me and wonder how different my life would be if I’d stayed at the Times instead of striking out on my own.
Trusting my gut.
Tonight is definitely one of those moments. One of those times where I can feel proud that I followed my heart and chose a path that was far less trodden but would offer me a richer experience.
The hotel Miles has booked out for the weekend is magical: a shady pine wood comprising a beautiful central villa and a rambling assortment of standalone, one-storey chalets, each housing a single suite.
Saoirse and I planned a welcome bag for every guest, and they were waiting on everyone’s snowy pillows when we arrived.
The chalets are beautiful, with pale blue shutters and a terrace outside and classic Provencal interiors in shades of white and grey.
The linens are intricate, and the furniture is wooden, which puts paid to the idea of my sleeping on the sofa.
Within the no-organised-fun remit of the weekend was tonight’s dinner, which took place outdoors on a stunning terrace by the hotel’s pool.
The pines were illuminated, the distance between them strung with fairy lights, and the pool glowed turquoise.
Fifteen of us sat at a long table and got stuck into huge carafes of local rosé and excellent claret while we ate a typically Provencal feast of snapper and ratatouille and sauteed potatoes and a rack of lamb.
To my disappointment, Saoirse didn’t separate me and Theo when she did the table plan, so I spent the whole meal with his arm around me or his hand on my thigh.
He nuzzled into my neck, he whispered in my ear, and if I were anyone else at the table, I would have been perfectly sure that he and I were completely in love.
Since dinner, we’ve drifted over to the fire pit at the edge of the terrace that overlooked the inky Med, and as the wine has switched to cognac and whisky, the noise levels have increased.
I’m gossiping with Eimear and Keeley about the fact that Becky and Jimmy Percival are nowhere to be seen, and thinking that it’s far too warm a night to have the fire lit, when Theo appears behind me.
His arms snaking around my waist. His hand warm against my stomach.
His lips move to my ear, and I catch a wistful look from Keeley that I’ve become all too familiar with these past few months.
Because I have no doubt that Theo looks every bit the adoring boyfriend just now.
‘Fancy a dip?’ He punctuates his question with a kiss to my neck.
That is a terrible idea. Terrible. ‘Er, no.’ I pat the hand on my stomach. ‘Not a good idea.’
‘Everyone’s getting in. Miles and Saoirse thought it’d be a laugh.’
‘What happened to no organised fun?’ I grumble. ‘And it’s not on the schedule. Drunk swimming’s not a good idea. What if someone dives into the shallow end and cracks their head open?’
‘Hey.’ His hand rubs my stomach. ‘Put away the clipboard, would you, Karen, and relax. No one’s dying tonight. Let’s just be spontaneous. Okay?’
And so I allow him to lead me back to our room, where I lock myself in the bathroom, pull my hair up into a messy bun on the top of my head, and stick on a red bikini and a matching halter neck cover-up while Theo gets changed in the bedroom.
‘You decent?’ I shout before I dare open the bathroom door.
‘Afraid so,’ he replies.
He’s jaw-dropping. I’ve seen him in shorts before, but these swimming trunks lie low on his hips, giving me the perfect view of the V of muscle that disappears under the waistband.
His skin is a gorgeous, even tan that emphasises the sculptural plains of his pecs and abs.
He rakes a hand through his dark hair as he eyes me.
‘Can’t wait to see what’s under that dress thingy.’
‘Shut up.’
I allow him to take my hand and lead me out to the pool. Most of the others are already in. Stephen and Margot are definitely the most hammered. He’s giving her a piggyback as she screams delightedly. I hope they aren’t too hungover tomorrow to enjoy their day of freedom.
I go to untie my halter neck, but Theo’s hand shoots to the back of my neck.
‘Allow me?’
I want to tell him to fuck off, because he’s taking this fake-boyfriend thing a bit too far. It’s absolutely not necessary for him to undress me in public. But I find myself nodding and dropping my hand.
He unties it, and the slip of fabric drops to my feet, leaving me in just my red string bikini. His gaze follows it down and back up over my body. I know this because my eyes are glued to his face. He bends to grab the dress, and I step out of it so he can chuck it on a lounger.
‘Even more beautiful than I imagined,’ he murmurs as he comes back up. His thumb brushes against my bare hip bone. ‘I am so fucked.’
Mr Emotionally Slutty strikes again. I wish he wouldn’t say stuff like that. It’s not true, and it’s not helpful. Before I can reply, he winks and takes off, cannon balling into the deep end, practically on top of Miles. I roll my eyes and approach the pool.
The usual pool dynamics are in play. The girls hang around the edges, trying not to get our hair wet, our glasses of whatever we’re drinking beside us on the stone.
Margot has abandoned Stephen, and the boys are now in full-on horseplay mode, dunking each other, jumping on each other’s backs, and generally indulging in plenty of gratuitous physical contact.
‘Am I the only one who’s finding all this more than a bit homoerotic?’ Saoirse slugs her rosé next to me and cocks her head. Her eyes don’t leave the admittedly impressive naked, soaking torso of her fiancé, who’s currently wrestling my equally impressive fake boyfriend.
‘Totally,’ Keeley agrees.
Margot giggles. ‘You can take the boys out of boarding school…’
‘They’re not exactly hard on the eyes, are they, though?
’ I ask, my gaze slipping all over Theo.
The muscles in his upper back are flexing as he wrestles Miles, and I have a sudden and highly specific urge to lay him on his stomach on our bed and lick and suck my way down that back. I shake my head. Get a grip, Nora.
Miles grabs Theo by the bicep and says something to him before Theo grins, and they both turn and make their way towards us, wading through the water, their skin wet and slick.
Beside me, Saoirse inhales sharply and I do the same, because holy fuck.
Miles is homing in on her, and Theo’s looking at me like he’s a starving man and I’m dinner.
I stick my glass on the edge and swallow, hard.
He grabs me and pulls me into him, into that soaking, hard body, and my legs and arms slide around him of their own accord.
‘That’s my girl,’ he whispers, staring at my mouth. ‘I have no idea why I’m feeling my fucking brother up when I can feel you up instead.’
He spins us around and walks us over to the opposite, deserted side of the pool, trapping me between the edge and his body. I’ve kissed him, yes. I’ve groped him. And I’ve seen him practically naked in his flat, but this is a first.
Skin on skin. Wet and slippery.
Dangerously few items of clothing between us.
My legs wrapped around his waist so tightly that his stomach is firm against my core.
‘Can I kiss you, Belle?’ He holds me with one arm and puts his thumb to my lower lip. Pulls it down the slightest amount as his dark eyes search mine for permission.
‘Theo…’ My forehead creases with the effort of trying to find the self-control to say no. He’s so close to me, and my entire body is crying out with joy at being wrapped around his. I know how good it could be between us. Can be. I have evidence of that already.
He puts his forehead to mine, breathing heavily, his voice low so only I can hear.
‘I’m not trying to get in your knickers, okay?
I know you’re not up for sex. I know we have to survive being in the same bed tonight, and I’m going to behave.
I promise you. Because I heard what you said last weekend, and I know I’m not part of your plan.
But right now’—he exhales and pulls away enough to look me in the eye—‘I would fucking love to kiss you. So what do you say?’
I don’t say anything. I slide a hand up his neck and along his jaw, dragging my thumb over his beard, and I press my mouth against his.
And I don’t know if it’s because we’re suspended in the water, or because he’s already acknowledged that he won’t try to escalate this, but this kiss is dreamy.
Slow. Indulgent. The contrast between the wet warmth of his mouth and the cool, damp skin of his face and body is heaven.
This man is beautiful. Physical perfection—there’s no doubt about that.
And I now know, from having lived with him for a few weeks, that he’s also kind and funny and thoughtful.
If he ever decides to pull himself together and stop playing the field, he’ll make someone a fantastic boyfriend one day.
Or husband. But for now, we’re using each other to get a fix of the high a really excellent kiss can deliver.
Theo’s hands begin to move on my body. One comes up to my neck and squeezes in a possessive gesture that serves to crush our faces even closer together.
The other comes under my bum and hoists me up further against him, so his face is tilted up towards mine.
His fingers skid over the hem of my bikini bottoms and dig into my cheeks, while mine skate over the glorious, slippery domes of his shoulders and my boobs rest against his chest.
We kiss on and on, and reality starts to shift so there’s not much else besides this man’s mouth on mine, his tongue chasing and entrapping my tongue, and the water lapping around us as we explore each other’s bodies in a way that’s leisurely. Decadent.
That is, until someone wolf whistles and Eddie calls: ‘Get a room, for fuck’s sake!’
We break apart and laugh. My laugh is slightly mortified, and even Theo looks a bit sheepish. He settles his other hand under my bum, holding me securely.
I pull back, lay my palms on his chest, and grin at him. ‘That was pretty hot.’
‘It was.’ He smirks, but there’s a tenderness there, too.
‘Listen. I think it’s best if I get myself to bed. I want to make sure tomorrow goes smoothly, and there are too many very enjoyable distractions here.’
I’m expecting him to start hustling me again, but he nods. ‘Sounds good. You go get some shut-eye. I’ll be quiet when I come to bed.’
There’s something intimate about what he’s just said that gives me a wistful twinge. Like we’re an established couple and him joining me in bed is a regular occurrence.
But we’re not, and it’s not.
It’s something we’ve got to get through tonight.
I give him a kiss on the cheek and hoist myself out of the pool.