The Chocolate Lovers' Diet (32 page)

The room looks beautiful. Each table is decorated with lavish arrangements of white flowers, and a bunch of helium
balloons anchored by chocolate-coloured ribbons stretches towards the ceiling, bobbing gently in the warm air.

Most of Marcus’s relations have come along to the reception. One or two cried off, but most people have girded their loins and come along to the ‘celebration’. Some of them look like they want to keep an eye on what’s happening to their presents and I guess that I’ll have to work out how to make sure everyone gets their gifts back in due course.

Marcus’s parents looked wracked with anxiety, but other than that everyone seems to be having a good time. Jacob quickly reorganised the seating plan so that the absence of a groom on the top table was less noticeable. My parents and Marcus’s parents have been relegated to lower tables and now the members of The Chocolate Lovers’ Club are flanking me on either side and I know that I wouldn’t have been able to get through this without them. As always, they have been there just when I needed them.

We’re halfway through the wedding breakfast, and I’d like to be able to say that I haven’t managed to eat a thing or that I picked delicately at my food while looking wan. But, frankly, after all the excitement and trauma, I’m as hungry as a horse and I’ve woofed everything down in sight and have thoroughly enjoyed it all. Very little puts me off my food. The smoked salmon mousse was divine, the chicken – exquisite. I’ve eaten my way through more chocolate desserts than I care to count, even though there is still the chocolate fountain to come this evening, and now the calories are straining manfully against the confines of my dress. Wonderful!

I glance at my best girls and they’re all looking happy. Like me, they have had an awful lot of champagne. Except Chantal, of course. Though I’m not sure how she’s managing this day without the aid of strong drink. Secretly, I think they’re relieved that I haven’t married Marcus even though the circumstances are quite traumatic. I’m also pleased to see that Addison has turned up at the wedding, much to Autumn’s delight. I hope everything will work out for them as they make such a great couple. Ted’s here too – though he’s looking a little tense. I’ve asked Jacob to make sure that everyone’s glass remains permanently topped up. I don’t want anyone sober enough to remember that this isn’t really a wedding at all. Most of all me. So I knock back some more champagne.

We’re going to skip the speeches – which my dad is heartily relieved about. It seems almost worth his daughter being stood up at the altar to avoid that particular embarrassment, and I wonder why we go through these terrible rituals that none of us enjoy in the name of tradition. Maybe if Marcus and I had sneaked away somewhere quiet by ourselves to get married then he might not have freaked out at the last minute. I always knew, in my heart of hearts, that a grand bash like this was a really bad idea.

My mobile phone vibrates, making my little silk purse hop about the table. I pick it up. There’s a text message waiting for me. It’s from Marcus, and all it says is
SORRY
.

‘From Marcus,’ I say to Jacob and I hand him the phone.

He reads the message. ‘Prat,’ he says with feeling. ‘Where do you think he’s gone?’

‘Not very far.’ Then a thought goes through my mind. I take my napkin from my lap and put it on the table. ‘Excuse me, Jacob,’ I say. ‘I’ll be back in just a moment.’

Chapter Seventy-Two

I
don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. Taking the lift up to the fourth floor, I find Marcus’s room and knock on the door.

‘Hello.’ Sure enough, Marcus’s voice comes from inside. It was only when Jacob asked me where Marcus might be, that I realised he could still well be in the hotel, holed up in his room, hiding.

‘It’s me,’ I say. ‘Can I come in?’

There’s silence and then a moment later, Marcus opens the door. His eyes are red from crying. ‘My God,’ he says flatly. ‘You look fabulous.’

Then I realise that he hasn’t yet seen me in my wedding dress. ‘Thanks.’

He moves aside as I step past him in my beautiful silk slippers. Marcus is still wearing his morning dress, though his cravat and morning coat are abandoned on the bed. His suitcase is there too.

Marcus studies me intently, and his eyes fill with tears again. ‘I seriously messed up this time.’

‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘You did.’

He rakes his hands through his hair. ‘How could I do this?’

I sit down on the edge of Marcus’s bed near his case. ‘It’s a question that a lot of our guests are asking.’

‘Lucy, Lucy, Lucy,’ he says. ‘How much have I hurt you this time?’

‘Quite a lot,’ I tell him.

‘You’ll never forgive me. Will you?’

‘Oh Marcus,’ I sigh. ‘I always forgive you. I always have a list of excuses ready to explain away your bad behaviour.’

‘But not this time?’

‘This time, it would be fair to say that I’m struggling a little.’

‘I panicked,’ Marcus admits.

‘At the thought of spending the rest of your life with me?’

‘No. No.’ He rubs his hands over his face. ‘Well, maybe that was part of it. Christ, I saw everyone standing there waiting, waiting. There was so much expectation in their faces. They were waiting for me to do this momentous thing. I thought about what it might be like to be married and I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t, Lucy. I don’t know why. It was the thought of ending up like our parents, like the divorced guys in my office. Half of the bloody congregation sitting there were on second, even third marriages. I didn’t think that I could be a husband, after all. It was all too much.’

‘You could have waited for me outside the church and we could have talked about it,’ I say quietly.

He hangs his head. ‘That would have been the mature and sensible thing to do.’

‘Yes.’ It doesn’t occur to Marcus that I might have been having my own doubts and insecurities. Perhaps if I hadn’t had the distraction of a drugs drop with my best girls then I would have had more time to reflect on whether
I
actually wanted to go through with our marriage or not.

Marcus comes to kneel at my feet. ‘I can make this up to you.’

‘I don’t think so,’ I say firmly.

‘I love you.’ His expression is bleak. ‘This isn’t because I don’t love you. Don’t think that.
Please
don’t think that.’

‘If you really love me, Marcus, then you’ll pick up all the bills for today’s fiasco and you’ll let me move on.’

‘It’s the least I can do,’ he says. ‘The bills, I mean. But you . . . how do I get you back? I don’t want to live my life without you.’ He runs his hands over my legs, taking in the silkiness of my dress. ‘Tell me what to do.’

‘Look.’ I let out a shuddering exhalation. ‘There’s a great party going on downstairs. You’re paying for it all. Come and join us.’

‘I can’t.’

‘No one will blame you.’ Well, my mother might. ‘They’ll get over it. You can’t hide from them for ever.’

‘I can’t. I can’t face anyone.’ I don’t remind him that by rights it should be me who’s hiding away, weeping and wailing, but I can’t find any more tears for Marcus.

‘Then you should finish packing your bags and leave,’ I say. ‘Take the tickets for the honeymoon and go on it, otherwise you’ll lose the money for that too. See if you can find someone to go with you.’

I’m thinking along the lines of his Best Man, but I
wonder if Marcus is already mentally scanning the contents of his little black BlackBerry.

There’s a spark of hope in his eyes. ‘We could go together. I’ve booked the most fabulous place in Mauritius.’

Mauritius. I’ve always wanted to go there.

‘We have a bungalow over the water, our own hot tub. We’re flying first-class and I’ve organised champagne and chocolates for the plane.’

Mmm. Champagne and chocolates on a first-class flight. How tempting does that sound?

‘It will be fabulous,’ he entreats.

‘It does sound wonderful,’ I have to agree.

A faint smile lights up his tear-stained face.

‘There’s just one snag, Marcus,’ I say, as I stand up. ‘I don’t want to be with you.’

Marcus looks as if I’ve slapped him. With a deep breath, I reorganise my train and head for the door. ‘Be happy, Marcus.’

My ex-boyfriend, ex-fiancé and my ever-so-nearly husband folds to the floor. ‘What have I done?’ Marcus cries after me in anguish. ‘What have I done?’

‘You fucked up big time,’ I tell him, and I close the door behind me.

Chapter Seventy-Three

T
he tables were being cleared and the disco had already started up. Chantal had certainly eaten enough of the delicious chocolate desserts for two – maybe even three or four. She hoped that being a chocoholic was hereditary as she wouldn’t want to deny her daughter this pleasure. Leaning against Ted, she smiled up at him. ‘Wanna take me on a tour of the dance floor?’

Ted toyed with his champagne flûte. ‘Are they playing our tune?’

‘I’m not sure what our tune is,’ she said. ‘Did we ever have one?’ Perhaps that had been a fault in their relationship – not enough sharing. Weren’t couples supposed to share their hopes, their dreams? With luck, she’d have the opportunity to correct that.

Ted might be seeing someone else, but Chantal viewed it as a good sign that her husband had chosen to come along to Lucy’s wedding today. Even though, technically, it couldn’t be classed as a wedding any more. Chantal thought that Lucy had coped wonderfully and she wondered whether she would have been so strong in the same situation.

Jacob came and rested his hands on the back of their chairs and spoke to Chantal. ‘Everything okay?’

‘Wedding or not,’ she said, as she turned round and smiled at him, ‘this is a great party.’

‘Yeah,’ he replied. ‘I hope that Lucy will consider me for her next wedding.’

‘Next time that girl tells me she’s going to get married, I’m going to knock her flat.’

Jacob grinned. ‘I can’t say that I blame you.’

Next to her, she was aware that Ted was fidgeting uncomfortably. ‘This is my husband, Ted,’ she said to Jacob. ‘Ted, this is Jacob, the wedding planner.’

Ted shook his hand.

‘Nice to meet you, Ted.’

Her husband didn’t reciprocate the greeting.

‘Catch you later,’ Jacob said. As he was moving away, he winked at her. ‘Save a dance for me.’

Ted’s frown deepened as he watched Jacob cross the room. ‘You know that guy?’

‘A little,’ Chantal said, not meeting his eyes. This wasn’t the time to confess that she’d been intimately involved with Jacob. And had paid handsomely for the privilege. Though, even with the fallout, she still considered it money well spent. ‘We’ve done some business together.’

‘Really? What kind of business?’

‘Come on.’ Avoiding the question, Chantal took her husband by the hand. ‘I don’t want to talk about work right now. You can show me some of your moves instead.’ She led him to the dance floor, strutting her stuff in front of him as she led the way. It was amazing that he still
hadn’t noticed how well she was filling out her bridesmaid’s dress. Maybe that was down to Jacob’s excellent choice of a flattering style, or maybe it was still down to the fact that her husband didn’t look at her too closely these days.

She couldn’t say that she felt the same indifference. Ted looked great today. He was wearing a charcoal-grey suit with a crisp white shirt – she thought that he’d look much better out of it. She’d booked a double room for them tonight, hoping against hope that he might stay over with her. Were pregnant women supposed to still want to seduce their husbands? She didn’t know.

Obligingly, the music was slow, a tune she didn’t recognise, and she wrapped her arms around Ted. Surely now, her husband would realise that her bump wasn’t just down to an excess of chocolate brownies.

They did a couple of turns round the dance floor and Ted started to relax; his arms loosened around her. The music grew sexier.

‘This is nice,’ Ted said. ‘Why did we stop doing this?’ He pulled her closer. It was her now or never moment.

‘Ted,’ Chantal said softly. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

‘Mmm,’ he said against her hair.

‘You’re going to be a daddy.’

He recoiled in horror. ‘How did you know?’

They both stood stock still on the dance floor and dropped their arms from each other. Other couples brushed by them.

‘The usual way,’ she said with a nervous laugh. ‘I got the results of the pregnancy test.’

Her husband blanched. ‘From Stacey?’

‘From me!’ Chantal took a step back and gave him a bewildered look. ‘Who the heck’s Stacey?’

Chapter Seventy-Four

‘
I
’m so glad that you came,’ Autumn said, tracing a finger over Addison’s cheek.

Her boyfriend held her tighter as they circled the dance floor. ‘I couldn’t stay angry with you,’ he said. ‘I know how difficult it is for you to say no to your brother. It was wrong of me to leave you alone after I’d promised to look out for you. I had to make sure that you were okay.’

‘That’s it,’ she assured him. ‘No more of Rich’s dirty work. It could have all gone so terribly wrong. There’s no way I should have done that delivery today. It was madness.’

‘At least you had the foresight and the conscience to tip off the police.’

‘I had no idea how bad it might be. I feel so stupid and naïve. I put myself at risk. I put my friends at risk.’ She bit down on her lip. ‘It may well have been my fault that Lucy’s wedding didn’t take place.’

‘Sounds like you’ve done her a favour,’ Addison said.

‘None of us wanted her to marry Marcus,’ Autumn admitted. ‘But none of us wanted it to turn out like this for her either.’

‘She seems to be coping very well.’

‘I haven’t seen her for a while.’ Autumn scanned the room. ‘I should go and look for her, make sure she’s all right.’

‘I love the fact that you care so much for other people,’ Addison said. ‘But don’t forget me sometimes.’

‘From now on, you’re going to be my top priority. I promise.’ She kissed Addison on the lips. ‘I told Richard that once I’d completed this business he was on his own. And I mean it. There’s just one last thing . . .’ Her boyfriend didn’t look surprised. ‘They gave me a huge bag of money, Addison. I have no idea how much is in there.’