Perfect Chaos

“Okay, time to go.” I claim Lainey and walk away before Reg can finish.

“Help yourself to the Bollinger,” he calls. “It’s fuckin’ pukka.”

“Thanks.” I raise my arm in acknowledgment as we break into the garden and head toward the over-the-top marquee. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” Lainey laughs. “We can’t choose our family. Is he your dad’s brother?”

I take two glasses of champagne and hand one to Lainey. “No, my mother’s sister’s husband.”

“Ah, so you’re not blood related?”

“No, thank God.”

“And it’s his daughter who’s getting married?”

“Yes. To old money.”

“As opposed to new money?”

“Exactly. My cousin’s husband-to-be comes from a long line of successful investment bankers. His family definitely didn’t come from the gutter.”

“And how does his family take to”—she looks back at the house—“Uncle Reg?”

“Your conclusions are probably right.” I follow her stare and see Reg lording it up on the terrace, ordering his guests into position on the lawn. “How’s the champagne?”

Lainey chinks her glass with mine. “Pukka.”

We both laugh, then each take a sip as we hold eye contact. I know the happiness in Lainey’s eyes is mirrored by mine. I don’t feel like anything can touch me when she’s with me. I’ve not dreaded today. Not for the reasons I should, anyway. What I’ve dreaded is the thought of having to keep myself under control. She just makes me feel so good about myself. Makes me want to . . . do Dad proud.

Lainey slips her sunglasses on and moves into my side, indicating across the vast lawns with her glass, where rows and rows of white wooden chairs are lined up in front of a pretty pergola that’s dripping in honeysuckle. “It’s idyllic for a wedding.”

I hum my agreement, but then close my eyes on a deep breath of patience when I hear a familiar shriek of delight. I look at Lainey remorsefully. “I apologize for my mother’s behavior in advance.”

“Sweetheart. Oh, Tyler, darling!”

When I find her, she’s hustling toward me, waving like a crazy woman, delight written all over her face. With Ted in tow. “Mum,” I breathe, moving my hand to Lainey’s and grasping it firmly. “You look beautiful, as always.”

“Oh, ever the charmer.” She kisses my cheek chastely, quickly turning her attention to Lainey. “It’s wonderful to see you again, darling.”

Lainey doesn’t stand a chance. She’s hauled into my mother’s bosom and squeezed to death, yet I refuse to release her hand, even when our arms are extended to full length. “And you, Mrs. Christianson.” Lainey smiles over my mum’s shoulder at me, unable to return her hug with a glass in one hand and me in the other. “You really do look lovely.”

“Oh, thank you.” She drops Lainey and seizes Tanned Ted, yanking him in and presenting Lainey to him. “This is Lainey.” She smiles and looks to Ted. “Isn’t she perfect?”

“Mother,” I sigh.

“Be quiet, Tyler,” she says. “Lainey, this is Ted, my”—she gives me a cautious look—“friend.”

My eyes roll of their own volition. Friend? Please.

“Lovely to meet you, Ted.” Lainey lets Ted kiss the back of her hand, looking at me in question. I must look like a sulky schoolboy.

“And are you the lady who’ll finally get Tyler to settle down?” Ted asks, in jest I expect, though I’m in no mood to appreciate it.

Lainey glances at me, a small smile on her lips, though she ignores Ted’s question. “I was just saying to Tyler how lovely this place is.”

Mum scoffs. “You can take people out of the gutter—”

Both Lainey and I burst out laughing, but my own dries up way before hers, the sheer vision of her looking so happy rendering me silent. When she catches me staring, she quiets down, cocking her head in interest. “What?”

I shake my head mildly, wishing I hadn’t prompted her to control her amusement. It’s a sight to behold.

“The ceremony is about to start,” Mum chimes in. “We’d better go.”

“Ready to listen to two strangers confess their love?” I tug Lainey toward the congregation and guide her to a chair next to my mother, taking a seat on the other side of her. Her hand falls to my knee, squeezing, and I slip my hand around the back of her chair. Music kicks in and the whole congregation stands and turns to watch the bride walk down the aisle. But I don’t see the bride, nor do I see my uncle Reg, who I expect is grinning like a Cheshire cat. I see her. Annabella. My spiteful, deceitful, betraying ex-wife.

Every sense of genuine contentment is doused in a second, just at the mere sight of her, and then I catch her eye and she smiles mildly. She actually fucking smiles at me. Seven fucking years, and she still stirs anger of the most damaging kind in my gut. I’ve changed a lot in seven years, and I can tell by her face that she’s pleased by what she sees. Then I feel Lainey’s lips on my cheek, and I watch, deeply satisfied, when my ex-wife’s face drops like lead. Good. Fucking good. I reach up and feel Lainey’s face as she rests her body into mine, my teeth grating, and I force myself not to look at Annabella, focusing on my cousin, the beautiful bride. Though the momentary glance of my ex-wife superglues itself to the front of my brain and distorts everything else. She’s not changed a bit. She still looks like a self-absorbed, holier-than-thou bitch, even looking her best in a couture bridesmaid gown.