Chapter Eighteen #3
‘If Marcus is so busy, why’s he walking over here right now?’ asked Cassie.
‘What?’ I said, turning around, just as Marcus slipped his hands around my waist, pulling me backwards into him.
It did feel delicious. But also – in front of my mum?
Brazen, or what? And it didn’t go unnoticed, of course.
I saw Mum and Cassie raise their eyebrows at each other as though they hadn’t been expecting it – I wasn’t sure which part of all of it was so shocking to them, but I could hazard a guess; I wouldn’t have believed Marcus was that into me either.
‘Aren’t you going to introduce us, Ava?’ said Marcus, his breath warm on my neck, the amusement in his voice noticeable only to me, I imagined. Was he actually enjoying this?
I gritted my teeth. I was partly enjoying Marcus’s arms around me and partly wanting to kill him for bowling over here to interfere in the first place.
As if I wanted him anywhere near the family drama that was bound to unfold, especially as Cassie was chugging wine – I hoped she’d checked the prices first. My plan had been to insist Mum and Cassie leave immediately, but I could hardly do that in front of him – as annoying as they were, I wouldn’t want to embarrass them in front of anyone else, particularly Cassie, who took anything she deemed as rejection exceptionally hard.
‘Mum, Cassie, this is Marcus,’ I stuttered, incapable of saying anything more at this point.
‘Call me Pauline,’ said Mum, holding out her hand for Marcus to shake, which he did, of course, and then politely shook Cassie’s too.
As he moved to stand next to me, I slipped my arm around his waist. For authenticity only, obviously.
Okay, also maybe because feeling connected to him physically somehow gave me the boost of confidence I desperately needed right about now.
Marcus could go out and play tennis in front of TV cameras and thousands of people – when you put it like that, I was pretty sure I could have a conversation with two family members in a bar.
‘I’m so glad we bumped into you,’ said Marcus, playing along with the idea that they’d just accidentally rocked up at the exact same place.
‘Ava has told me so much about you all. And you’ve probably been curious about the man who’s been dragging your daughter around Europe for the last few months. ’
‘Well, yes, we did wonder,’ said Mum, who seemed to have turned into a simpering wreck on the spot.
‘Can I get you both a drink?’ asked Marcus.
‘Um . . .’ said Mum, looking startled, as though nobody had ever offered to buy her a drink before.
Then again, my dad had never been one to put his hand in his pocket without careful consideration – he probably hadn’t ever bought Mum an extortionately priced glass of wine at a swish Mayfair bar either, because there’s absolutely no way he’d be in there in the first place.
Marcus, clearly realising that this was a decision too far – presumably it was Mum and Cassie staring mutely at the menu that gave it away – stepped in.
‘How about a glass of champagne each?’ he suggested.
‘Only if you’re sure . . .’ said Mum.
‘Of course,’ said Marcus breezily. ‘I’ll get you one, too, shall I, Ava?’
‘Yes please,’ I said, trying my best to lighten up. Maybe this didn’t have to be as bad as I’d imagined. And they’d have to head back to Paddington soon, wouldn’t they? There were a couple of trains after midnight, but they wouldn’t want to risk missing the last one.
Marcus squeezed my shoulder before taking his place at the bar. That helped. And at least champagne measures were quick to quaff.
Marcus was served immediately, meaning there was little time for me to glower at Mum and Cassie while they both gave me irritating fake-innocent looks, as if I was the one who was out of order here, which of course was usually how things felt for me in this family.
‘Here we go,’ said Marcus, handing a flute each to Mum and Cassie and then going back for ours.
‘So, tell me about your shopping trip,’ he said, looking at the bags strewn around their feet – Zara, H Jake, who’d shagged around behind her back and then had a go at her for being upset about it; and Wes, a hoarder who lived with his parents and who, at thirty-three years of age, had never had a job and seemed to have little intention of getting one.
‘No one,’ said Cassie.
‘Well, it must be someone,’ I said, teasing her.
‘I don’t really want to talk about it,’ said Cassie enigmatically.
‘Okay,’ I said, respecting her boundaries, even if she and Mum had totally failed to respect mine.
‘Talking of romance – Marcus, would you be free to come to a wedding with Ava later this month?’ said Mum out of nowhere.
‘Mum!’ I said. ‘He won’t be, he’ll be at a tournament.’
‘Which date in June?’ asked Marcus, raising one eyebrow at me as though he was finding this highly amusing.
‘The last Monday in the month, I think,’ said Mum.
‘Who gets married on a Monday?’ I asked.
‘Your cousin Julie, as you well know.’
‘Actually,’ said Marcus, taking out his phone and flicking through his calendar, ‘I think I can make it. Queen’s finishes on the Sunday, even if I do make it to the final.’
‘I like your confidence, Marcus,’ said Cassie.
‘Thanks, Cassie,’ he said. ‘If you can’t big yourself up, who’s going to do it for you?’
Everyone laughed except me. I wasn’t in a laughing mood now because I did not want to go to a wedding with Marcus.
That would involve him meeting my entire extended family – Mum’s half of it, anyway – and then what was I supposed to say when we ‘broke up’ weeks later?
It would be utterly humiliating after the whole Charlie debacle.
Plus, weddings were dangerous – everyone drank too much and did stupid things.
I thought briefly back to our kiss in Paris – had that been a stupid thing?
And to our luscious bed waiting upstairs – was there a chance we’d be doing stupid things in it?
I shook the thought from my head. Of course there wasn’t.
Marcus might be all touchy-feely in public, but he was hardly going to ravish me behind closed doors, was he? There would be nothing for him to gain.
‘What about Wimbledon?’ I asked. ‘You’ll be prepping for that.’
‘Doesn’t start until the following Monday. I’ll have to train in the mornings, though. Maybe I could come after that?’
‘You don’t have to come to anything,’ I said decisively.
‘He just said he’d like to,’ said Mum, rolling her eyes at me and then looking at Marcus conspiratorially. ‘Honestly, what’s she like?’
Marcus laughed.
‘Ava’s ex-boyfriend, Charlie – she told you about Charlie, I take it – was supposed to be coming, but then they split up, and Julie had already given numbers to the caterer, so we’ve got a spare plus one,’ said Mum.
‘Way to make a guy feel wanted,’ I said, glaring at her. Was she planning to stop talking at any point?
‘Oh, I’m very used to being second best,’ he said earnestly.
‘Brilliant. It’s all sorted, then,’ said Mum.
I turned to Marcus and made one last-ditch attempt at putting an end to Mum’s ridiculous suggestion. ‘You know, the wedding is a way off. We might not even be . . .’
‘Of course we will be,’ he said, dropping my hand and draping his arm around my shoulders instead. He pulled me in for a tender kiss on the forehead, which I had to say made me feel better about it all, temporarily at least.
‘Right, we’d better head off to get our train,’ said Mum, shifting in her seat.
‘Good idea,’ I said.
Once they’d gone, with promises of meeting up again soon (although not if I could help it), we were back at our table eating our semi-cold mains. Marcus had his arm around me, his fingertips making little circles on my bare shoulder.
‘You do know that wasn’t that bad,’ he whispered in my ear.
‘Maybe not for you,’ I said, trying to stay calm when all I could focus on was the feel of him on my skin.
‘They’re nice,’ he insisted.
‘You charmed them, that’s why,’ I said.
‘Am I charming you, Ava?’ he said, his breath on my neck sending shivers along my spine.
And then, before I could answer (how would I have, anyway?), and as if he thought he’d said too much, he pulled his arm away again and asked Patrick a question about tennis and the moment was gone.