Kirsty pushed back to look at Caroline. “You’re a married woman. You have a daughter.” She pointed at Caroline’s belly. “And another one on the way. Please tell me you can say the word ‘sex’ now.”
Caroline blushed and patted her slightly curved belly, which was covered by her classically chic dress. “Of course I can say the word. I just choose not to. I’ve learned you don’t have to say it to do it.” Her cheeks turned even redder. “It doesn’t mean I can’t lend you a sympathetic ear if you want to talk about...you know.”
“I know.” Kirsty patted her hand, thinking it was a miracle Caroline had loosened up enough to make children. She took a deep breath and confessed. “We haven’t had sex in three months. Not at all. Not once. And before you start raking your memory to see if he was out of town and make excuses for him, the answer is, he wasn’t. Apart from one weekend in London talking to this Callum guy, he’s been here the whole time. Here. In Invertary. Not making love to me.”
Caroline’s sympathetic look make Kirsty want to sob. “Oh, honey.”
“There’s only one explanation. He doesn’t love me.” She looked around the room at all the smiling women and ached. They were going to be so disappointed if the wedding didn’t happen. “I thought pushing for the wedding would be a wakeup call for him. That he’d remember why we’re together. Instead I feel further away from him. He’s always in his office or on the phone. He’s trying to avoid me. He hasn’t even been involved in any of the planning for tomorrow. I don’t think he wants to get married. I don’t think he wants to be with me.”
Caroline patted Kirsty’s back as they watched one of the older women from Knit Or Die pretend to make out with cardboard Lake.
“You’re embarrassing me, Mum,” Megan Donaldson shouted at her mother as she walked back into the vast open-plan kitchen/dining room.
Heather didn’t look ashamed. “I’m a woman. I have needs.”
“Do those needs involve getting it on with a slab of cardboard?” Megan tossed her long, straight blonde hair over her shoulder and plonked down on the armchair beside her twin sister. “Why didn’t you stop her?” Megan said.
Claire held up her phone. “I thought pictures were better.”
They grinned widely and high-fived each other. Although the twins made no effort to dress the same, they’d still managed to turn up wearing matching boat-necked silver sweaters teamed with sleek black jeans.
“We need to dance.” Jena Morgan jumped to her feet. The American was wearing a skintight golden dress that barely covered her backside. Her long, wavy hair swung to her waist and her eyes glittered with mischief. “Change the music, Caroline. We need something with a beat. Oh, wait. I have my iPod with me. You can plug it in.”
She spun on her four-inch heels, tripped over her best friend Abby’s feet and landed headfirst in the other armchair that flanked the fireplace. The rest of the women thought she was hilarious.
“I’ll get it before you kill yourself.” Abby rooted around in Jena’s bag.
Jena struggled out of the armchair, pulled down her dress and ran her fingers through her hair, totally unfazed by her face plant.
Caroline took the iPod from Abby. “No dancing on the furniture. We’re hosting a wedding here tomorrow and I’d like everything to remain in pristine condition.”
“Jeez, you break one itty-bitty table and people expect you to trash their place.” Jena rolled her eyes.
“Why didn’t we have this party with the men?” Kirsty’s mother said. “It would have been more fun with some hunks hanging around.”
&nb
sp; There was a disgusted snort from the hallway where Joe was keeping an eye the front door. “What am I? Chopped liver?”
Kirsty smiled at that. There was no way anyone could think the tall Italian-American was anything but gorgeous.
“Get in here and dance, then we’ll decide if you rate being called a hunk,” Margaret shouted back.
“I’m working here.” He sounded amused. “Kirsty, keep your mother under control.”
“Yeah, like that’s possible.” Kirsty smiled fondly at her mother.
“You aren’t working,” Margaret shouted back. “You’re here to spy on us.”
There was laughter from the hallway. As far as Kirsty knew, the men had drawn straws to attend the hen party. As in, they wanted to be there. Joe and Ryan had won. They were supposed to hang around outside the castle, but it was freezing out there and about four feet deep with snow. Now they were guarding the women from inside, which pleased them immensely.
The music came out of the stereo at full volume. There were whoops of delight, and the coffee table was cleared to the side to make more space for dancing. Kirsty watched Jena dance. The former go-go girl was seriously talented.
As the women whooped and danced, Kirsty slowly backed out of the room. She wandered down the long hallway, past the ornately carved banister and regal staircase to the grand room—the venue of her wedding. As she stepped into the cavernous room, Kirsty’s heart sped up at the sight before her. Even though the weather meant the ceremony couldn’t be held in a marquee as she’d planned, the grand room was stunning.
Caroline had emptied the room of its usual furniture, leaving Kirsty to do as she liked with the space. She’d chosen to use the purple and green Campbell tartan as her theme. Rows of high-backed chairs dressed in white silk with dark purple bows, flanked a central aisle. The cream walls were hung with reams of purple silk, broken up with garlands of green laced with purple irises and white roses. Tomorrow morning, five-year-old Katy, Abby’s daughter, would walk down that aisle scattering purple petals made of silk for Kirsty to walk on. The silk flowers were a last-minute addition to save Caroline’s cream carpet from being stained by fresh petals.
“I love the windows,” Caroline said as she came into the room. “I may keep them like that when this is over.”