Wedding Night

Circus skills? I wasn’t expecting that one. I’m about to ask what else he’s done, when his phone bleeps with a text and he pulls it out of his pocket. As he reads it, his brow creases angrily and I look at him in concern.

“Everything OK?”

“It’s from Lorcan. He can fuck off.”

Lorcan again. I’m dying to meet this Lorcan. I’m actually feeling quite grateful to him. If he hadn’t said whatever he did to Ben, Ben would never have rushed to my office and I would never have had the most romantic experience of my life.

I rub Ben’s arm sympathetically. “Isn’t he, like, your oldest friend? Shouldn’t you make up?”

“Maybe he was once.” Ben scowls.

I glance over his shoulder at the screen and catch a bit of the text.

You can’t run away from these decisions, Ben.

You know how hard everyone has worked, and to go AWOL now is simply

Ben moves the phone out of sight and I don’t like to ask if I can read the rest.

“What decisions?” I venture.

“It’s just some tedious, boring piece of crap.” Ben glowers at the phone. “And I’m not running away. Jesus. The thing with Lorcan is, he wants me to do everything his way. He got used to running the show with my dad. Well, things have changed.”

He types something short, his thumbs stabbing at the phone. Almost at once a reply arrives, and he curses under his breath.

“Priorities. He’s talking to me about priorities. I’m having a life. I’m doing what I should have done fifteen years ago. I should have married you then. We’d have ten kids.”

I feel a swell of love for him. He wants a big family! We’ve never talked about it before, but I was really hoping he wanted lots of kids too. Maybe four. Maybe six!

“We can make up for that now.” I lean in and nuzzle his neck. After a few seconds, Ben lets his phone drop onto the seat.

“You know what?” he says. “Nothing matters except us.”

“Exactly,” I breathe.

“I remember the moment I fell for you. It was that day you did cartwheels on the beach. You were sunbathing on that rock in the middle of the sea. You dived off the rock and swam to the beach, and then, instead of walking back, you did cartwheels all the way along. I don’t think you knew anyone was watching you.”

I remember that too. I remember the feel of the flat sand beneath my palms. My hair swinging. I was lithe and athletic. I had abs like a washboard.

And of course I knew he was watching me.

“You drive me wild, Lottie.” His hands are edging up my skirt again. “You always did.”

“Ben, we can’t.” I glance over at the elderly gentleman, who catches my eye over the top of his newspaper. “Not here.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Neither can I.” My body is pulsating all over again. “But we have to.” I check my watch yet again. Barely ten minutes have passed now. How are we going to last?

“Hey.” Ben meets my eyes, lowering his voice. “Have you been to the loos here? They’re big.” He pauses. “And unisex.”

I stifle a giggle. “You don’t mean—”

“Why not?” His eyes glint. “You up for it?”

“Now?”

“Why not? Still twenty minutes till boarding.”

“I … I don’t know.” I hesitate, feeling torn. It’s not exactly the way I pictured my honeymoon night—a quick encounter in a Heathrow loo. On the other hand, I didn’t realize I’d be so desperate. “What about our wedding night?” I can’t help clinging to my plan. “What about making it special and romantic?”

“Still will be.” His fingers are gently playing with my earlobe, sending starbursts of sensation down my neck. “This isn’t the main event. This is the preview.” His fingers have found my bra strap. “And, quite frankly, if we don’t soon, I’ll burst.”

“I’ll burst too.” I quell a gasp. “OK, you go first. Find us somewhere.”

“I’ll text.”

He gets up and walks swiftly toward the unisex washrooms. I lean back on my seat and try not to giggle. This place is so quiet and stuffy, I don’t know how we’ll pull it off.

I get out my phone to wait for his text and, on impulse, pull up Fliss’s number. She and I have always joked about the Mile-High Club. I can’t resist telling her. I send a quick text:

Have u ever wondered what it’s like doing it in an airport lounge loo? I’ll let you know.

I’m not really expecting her to reply. It’s only a silly, jokey text. So I’m gobsmacked when a moment later my phone pings with a reply: