20. Chapter 20
Lucy was getting out of the shower when she heard the door to their room bang shut. There was some shuffling and a couple of soft thuds, then it went quiet.
In the mirror, she looked at the towel piled on her head, at her face, flushed from the shower, her skin pink and damp. She felt oddly self-conscious and hiked the towel up under her arms, knotting it tightly. She paused at the door with her hand on the knob. It was hardly the first time Jack had seen her in a towel or scantily dressed. They’d been swimming together, gone on weekend trips to the beach where she’d lazed around in a bikini without a second thought. But now, walking out there to the room they shared in just a bath towel felt odd. The kiss had changed things.
She shook her head. It was a drunken fumble, a silly mistake that meant nothing and was now to be forgotten. Jack probably hadn’t given it a second thought since it happened. She glanced at herself once more in the mirror and pulled her shoulders back.
‘I’m coming out,’ she called as she turned the handle. ‘You’d better be decent.’
Jack was lounging on the bed as she opened the door, one ankle looped casually over the other, reading a copy of Hello! Magazine. He had kicked his shoes off, and they were lying half under the bed.
Lucy wrinkled her nose.
‘Why are you reading that?’
‘What? Don’t tell me you don’t keep up with the lives of,’ Jack consulted the magazine, ‘Lady Tittingbourne and Mrs Bunce?’
Lucy snorted. ‘You made those names up.’
Jack held up three fingers. ‘Scouts honour, that’s what it says here.’
Lucy sat down at the dressing table and began untangling her wet hair, teasing it apart with her fingers. She caught Jack watching her in the mirror, but he snapped back to his magazine when she met his gaze.
‘How was Ollie when you left?’ she asked as she brushed her hair.
‘Oh, he went off to get ready.’ Jack licked his finger and flipped a page. ‘And Dave seemed to have gone too, but not before your mother had a word with him.’
Lucy wrapped her hair back up in a towel.
‘I heard her tell Ollie that he should,’ he made air quotes with his fingers, ‘consider the kind of company he keeps as friends.’
Lucy gave a wry smile. ‘I bet she did. Poor Ollie.’
‘Oh, he seemed pretty impervious to it all really,’ Jack said.
‘Yes,’ Lucy replied, thoughtfully, dabbing cream under her eyes. ‘We used to call him Teflon; nothing sticks to him. He doesn’t really get wound up about anything, and mother never stays cross with him.’
Jack tossed the magazine onto a chair.
‘Well, I’d better get showered. Your mother told me she knows she doesn’t need to nag me, like she has to tell Ollie and Dave.’ Lucy pivoted to face him. ‘Because I will no doubt be dressed smartly enough to make the ladies swoon. Which I assume is her way of saying I’d better not let the side down. Or else….’
‘Oh my goodness,’ Lucy said, clasping her hands to her face, ‘that’s exactly what she meant!’ She cackled. ‘You already speak Valerie. You’re a marvel!’
Jack laughed. ‘Yes, she made herself clear that it was time we all went and got ready by having the waitress clear the table.’
Lucy burst out laughing.
‘Sounds about right. My mother runs a tight ship, and we are aaalll under her command.’
Jack stood and stretched, his T-shirt riding up to reveal taut stomach muscles. Lucy dragged her eyes away and forced herself to concentrate on vigorously rubbing moisturiser into her face. When he clicked the bathroom door shut behind him a moment later, she let out a deep breath and slumped in her seat. What was happening to her?
While Jack was in the bathroom—singing Kenny Rogers’ The Gambler in a surprisingly tuneful baritone—she hurried to finish her makeup and get dressed. She didn’t want to be caught hopping around in her underwear when he came back out. She tipped the contents of her make-up bag across the dresser.
She rarely wore much makeup, so occasions like weddings stretched her limited skills to the limit. After a few minutes, she sat back to survey the results of her attempts at a smokey eye; not bad, she thought. She dried her hair and twisted it into a loose, low bun, soft strands falling free to frame her face. With Jack now crooning out, Hit the Road Jack, she dug her best underwear out of her bag and wriggled into it.
Her dress hung in the wardrobe, zipped inside a dress carrier she had borrowed from Cassie. The one item of clothing she had brought with her that didn’t now need ironing. She slipped the bottle-green satin from the hanger and undid the zip, stepping carefully into the pool of fabric and pulling the plaited straps over her slender shoulders. The fabric settled over her hips and fell to just above her ankles. The dark green of the dress highlighted her creamy pale skin, the smattering of golden freckles, and her honey-coloured hair. Cut low at the back, the dress fastened with a small clasp and zip. Lucy reached around behind her but couldn’t get hold of the two tiny parts of the hook and eye. She was starting to sweat with the effort of contorting herself when the bathroom door swung open, and Jack walked back in amidst a cloud of steam.
He stopped in the doorway, his hand on the door handle. A towel was slung low around his hips, and the dark hairs on his chest were slick with moisture.
‘Wow,’ he said, in a low voice, running a hand through his wet hair. ‘You look…’ he trailed off.
Lucy was still holding the dress together behind her, and felt herself blush.
‘Um, could you please help me do this up at the back?’ she said.
She was working hard to keep her eyes on his face.
‘Of course,’ he replied and crossed the room to her in a few long strides.
She turned so he could reach the clasp and the zip and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as his fingers brushed against her bare skin.
‘Uh, how do I…’ he tugged on the dress. ‘How does this work?’
His breath fanned the strands of hair that fell loose from the bun. She could feel the warmth of his damp chest close to the bare skin of her back.
‘What kind of fake boyfriend are you?’ she joked. ‘Do the zip first, then you should be able to do the little clasp.’
She shivered as his fingers brushed against her.
She felt the zip slide smoothly up and the dress sit properly on her waist. Then Jack was swearing as he tried to get the tiny hook and eye to meet.
‘Done!’ he announced.
‘Thank you.’
Lucy breathed in and turned to face him.
He cleared his throat and stepped back.
‘As your fake boyfriend, I feel it’s only right to tell you that you look,’ his eyes ran over her face, ‘beautiful.’
Lucy blushed and struggled to meet his gaze.
‘And as your fake girlfriend, I am flattered that you think so.’
She reached inside the wardrobe and pulled out a box with a pillbox fascinator with long feathers and an enormous bow. She fixed it on her head and stood back to admire the finished effect.
‘Wow, what is that? Are you trying to receive radio signals?’ Jack asked.
Lucy jabbed him in the arm. ‘It’s a fascinator.’
‘I am certainly fascinated by it,’ Jack said, eyebrows raised. ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to take my eyes off it all day. In case it pokes my eye out.’
He reached up to adjust the feathers.
‘What are you doing?’ Lucy asked.
‘Just trying to see if I can get Classic FM,’ he said with a straight face.
Lucy laughed and batted his hand away.
‘It’s classic wedding attire,’ she said.
Jack shook his head slowly in wonderment.
‘I knew there was a reason I hated these things.’
He grinned as he grabbed his bag and disappeared back into the bathroom to dress.
He emerged a few minutes later wearing a light grey suit with a pale blue shirt which highlighted his light tan; the collar was unbuttoned, and a tie was looped around his neck. He winced as Lucy scrutinised him up and down.
‘What, not up to snuff?’
‘No,’ Lucy managed, taking it all in. ‘You look good. Very handsome.’
The last word sounded slightly strangled, so she added, more lightly, ‘You won’t show me up at all.’
‘Oh,’ Jack said. ‘Shame. I’ll have to try harder, then. Just wait until they start playing Bon Jovi, and I share my air guitar with the world.’
‘When you did that at Aislinn’s birthday dinner, we got asked to leave that restaurant,’ Lucy muttered. ‘And told never to return.’
Jack held out the ends of his tie.
‘Um, any chance you can help me with this?’
He looked suddenly a little shy, a rare thing for Jack. He fiddled with the ends of the tie.
‘I’ve never really had to wear one. Being your own boss,’ he shrugged, ‘you set the dress code, and it has never included ties. I watched a couple of videos on YouTube but,’ he shrugged, ‘I can’t seem to…it just looks like I’ve tied it in a lumpy knot.’
Lucy stepped towards him and took the fabric in her fingers.
‘Don’t you need to watch a video?’ he asked.
‘Nope,’ she said, tugging the tie into the right position. ‘I had to wear a tie for school for years, so I can do this,’ she said, her fingers reaching around to smooth it down behind his collar.
She could feel Jack studying her face as she looped the tie and gently teased it into a knot. He had a tiny mole on his neck, just above his collar line; she had never been close enough to see it before. His breath fanned her cheeks, and she avoided his gaze and concentrated on smoothing the edges of the knot as she eased it into place and pressed his shirt collar down. She stepped back to admire her handiwork.
‘There,’ she said in a soft voice. ‘All done.’
‘Thank you,’ Jack said, his expression inscrutable as he ran his fingers over the tie.
Lucy’s phone pinged, and she was grateful for the distraction.
‘Oh god,’ she said, seeing the time, ‘hurry, or we’ll be late.’
She grabbed her bag, took one last look in the mirror, and smoothed an errant strand of hair back into place.
Jack was standing by the door, a gentle smile playing about his lips.
‘What is it?’ she said as she caught his eye.
‘I think,’ he said archly, as they stepped out into the corridor, and he jutted his chin in the air, ‘that we cut quite a dash as a couple.’
Lucy giggled. ‘I think you’re right,’ she replied, taking his arm.
‘Even if it’s not real,’ he whispered.
Lucy’s giggle faded away. Of course. It was all just for show.