Chapter 29
29
They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day. In this house, it’s a little too important.
‘You’re saying I can have anything?’ Ethan checks with the member of the housekeeping staff who is taking our breakfast orders.
We’re all sitting around the dining table – all of the key players in the wedding – and first things first, breakfast is being ordered.
‘Yes,’ the young woman replies.
‘So, if I said I wanted lobster bisque…’
‘Then I would get it for you,’ she confirms – of course, you can see in her eyes that she thinks he’s an arsehole.
‘Holy shit, that’s wild,’ he replies. ‘I’ll just have a bagel, with scrambled eggs, but wow.’
You can see a small puff of relief come out as the young woman exhales.
See, if the plan were still the plan, then Ethan really would be doing an incredible job. He’s being kind of uncouth, and ridiculous, but he still knows who the enemy is.
‘Lobster bisque for breakfast – a man after my own heart,’ Chester tells him. ‘Beau, do you remember that morning, while we were still celebrating Maximus’s stag, and we dared you to drink French onion soup from Digby’s brogue?’
‘As I recall it, it wasn’t French onion soup, it was, ahem, vomit,’ Beau replies. ‘And in the end, I think it was Maximus who enjoyed a sort of shoey for breakfast that day.’
‘Disgusting,’ Seph says with a roll of her eyes. ‘Boys are disgusting.’
‘I’m not surprised he and Briony got divorced,’ Tiggy adds as she sips her second espresso. ‘Given what they both enjoyed for breakfast the day before their big day.’
‘Why, what did Briony have?’ Chester asks.
‘Fellatio, I believe,’ she says, incredibly casually. ‘With the gentleman whose villa we had commandeered for the weekend.’
‘Right, Antigone, we get the picture,’ Bea tells her firmly – you know you’re in trouble when you get your full first name thrown at you. That’s a verbal warning. A written warning is, to have a guess stupid enough to be true, wills being changed.
I glance at Ethan, who is so very clearly having the time of his life. He’s gripped, like he’s watched an upper-class version of Hollyoaks . They could actually put lobster bisque down in front of him, and I don’t think it would steal his attention.
‘Not in front of the rentals, Tig,’ Chester says with what I think is technically a chortle.
Chester’s rentals – aka his mum and dad – seem nice enough, but almost everyone at this table is cut from the same cloth. Joan and Richard are old money, stiff – clearly not fans of Tiggy saying ‘fellatio’ at their breakfast table.
Tiggy is… I don’t know how to describe it. I swear, I make dirty jokes, I like to have a drink and a laugh. The thing is though, when I do it, it’s common and unacceptable. When Tiggy does it, it’s okay, that’s just Tiggy being outrageous. There are so many double standards, in that same way, where it’s classy if you’re wealthy, but in incredibly poor taste if you’re a lowly commoner. Drinking too much, talking about sex, stories from wild nights out – badges of honour for this lot. But you can guarantee if I decided to tell the story of when Ethan and I were getting it on and the blinds opened, it would get a reception that would fit seamlessly into Pretty Woman . Not that I want to tell them, I want to seem like a whole new me, the kind of me who fits in.
‘I want to know more about our new friend,’ Chester says, looking across the table to Ethan. ‘What’s your story?’
‘Oh, I’m not sure I have a story,’ Ethan replies.
‘Everyone has a story,’ Chester replies. ‘A list of conquests, achievements and such.’
‘No one wants to hear about my body count or my criminal record over breakfast,’ Ethan replies.
‘I certainly do,’ Tiggy says before flagging down a member of staff for another coffee.
Oh, fuck, he’s being perfect – for the old plan. But I don’t want that now.
‘I am committed to your daughter, sister, cousin, basic stranger,’ Ethan tells everyone, glancing at them one at a time, working his way from my dad to Seph to Tiggy to Beau.
I can feel the uncomfortable look creeping across my face.
‘Ha ha, yes, of course you are,’ I say. ‘Daddy, Ethan and I work together.’
Daddy! I just said Daddy! Seph – of course – still uses Mummy and Daddy to refer to her parents and it always makes me cringe. Well, look at me now, trying to use the word ‘Daddy’.
‘I know we do,’ Ethan replies – then he stops in his tracks. ‘Sorry, she calls me Daddy too, I thought she was talking to me.’
My actual daddy doesn’t look impressed, although I think (and this is a relief) he thinks this is Ethan saying he’s like the dad I never had, rather than it being a sex thing.
‘Ethan, I like you,’ Chester tells him, laughing wildly.
‘Me too,’ Tiggy adds. ‘We need more fun people in this family.’
‘I don’t know, you can never have too many sensible heads in the room,’ Beau adds. ‘What do you think, Lana?’
Oh my God, he’s talking to me.
‘Are you with me and Seph or Chet and Tigs on this one?’ he asks.
Speak!
‘Er, yes, sensible all the way,’ I reply.
‘So, you’re an office worker too?’ Bea enquires – very much with a tone.
‘Well, I don’t work in the office,’ Ethan replies. ‘But I do make apps for a living.’
‘Is that a real job?’ Seph enquires. ‘I know Lana is a secretary, or similar, but they have those everywhere. But the app-making side – is that a job?’
‘Where do you think they come from?’ Ethan asks her with a smile.
‘I don’t know,’ she replies. ‘I thought they just sort of… appeared on the phone,’ she says.
‘Ignore her, EPJ, she thinks money grows on trees,’ Chester says.
Oh, so the nickname is happening then. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad sign but Chester only gives nicknames to those who he deems worthy of his time.
‘It’s made of paper, you idiot, of course it grows on trees,’ Seph tells him smugly.
‘It actually isn’t,’ Ethan corrects her. ‘It’s made of polymer now.’
‘Ha!’ Chester says loudly, pointing in his future wife’s face smugly. ‘You’re so out of touch, you don’t even know what money is made of.’
‘So, it’s plastic?’ Seph asks. ‘Because I do a lot of philanthropy, and they say plastic is bad.’
‘I think polymer is polymer,’ Beau chimes in. ‘And that plastic is a polymer, but not all polymers are plastic. What kind of second-rate boarding school did you attend?’
He’s joking – imagine being able to joke about who went to the best exclusive, expensive school.
‘So, really, money is terrible for the environment,’ Seph says. ‘I am a better person than all of you, for not handling it.’
‘Money is bad for the environment, but not in the way you think it is,’ I reply.
‘All right, Lana, can we save your “eat the rich” mentality until after breakfast please?’ Bea insists.
‘Yeah, Lana, it’s a bit of a buzzkill,’ Chester adds. ‘I’ll bet you were on the side of the orcas, when they went on their yacht-sinking spree.’
I mean, I had more in common with them.
‘Lana has a point,’ Beau says, jumping to my defence. ‘Emissions data says?—’
‘Lana, why do you always have to do this?’ Seph asks angrily. ‘We’re just trying to enjoy breakfast.’
Neither the first, second nor third things that pop into my head to reply are very demure so I just hold my tongue.
But, as I look around the table, and notice Beau looking my way, I see him subtly raise his coffee cup to me, as if to say cheers.
I notice Ethan noticing too.
Okay, well, maybe the earl doesn’t think I’m a total loser. I can work with that.