The Friends We Keep(42)
“So is he. And so am I. You’ll meet him another time. He’s wonderful.”
“He is wonderful,” said Evvie, who had met him the few times she’d managed dinner with Topher in New York. “Best of all, he loves Topher as much as we do. And he takes care of you, right?” She turned to Topher, who flushed with pleasure. “He was incredibly sweet with you. I don’t want to say paternal, because that would be creepy, but he definitely puts you first.”
“Is it awful to say my ego enjoys that?” Topher laughed. “Although, honestly, we take care of each other. It’s really something special. I didn’t think I would find something this comfortable, and easy, and . . . right. I’m happy.”
“What about you?” Maggie looked at Evvie. “What’s going on in your romantic world? Are you still dating rock stars? And is it true what I read about you and Richard Gere?”
“I couldn’t possibly say!” Evvie put a hand to her chest but then she laughed. “The truth is, much of that is just the product of my PR firm. Generally I’m having the same disastrous relationships with the same old disastrous men.”
“Disastrous how?” asked Maggie.
“You name it, I’ve dated it! I just seem to have this unerring ability to find men who will treat me badly, because they’re either addicts or narcissists. I have no idea why. I keep thinking that this time I’ve got it right, but every time he turns out to be a mess.” She noted Maggie’s sad face. “Do not feel sorry for me. I’m happy. Honestly, I don’t know that I’m very good at relationships, or maybe I’m not very good at picking good men. Either way, life is much less complicated when I’m single.”
“I understand that. But I think it’s because you haven’t met the right man. And you will. Look at you. You’ll find someone amazing, and maybe it will be in the last place you expect. I mean, my God, who would have thought I would end up getting married to Evil Ben! Evil Ben!” Maggie started to laugh as Evvie tried to join in, wishing she didn’t feel so awkward, wishing she could push away the very real thought that, had things been different, it could have been her.
“What makes him right for you?” Evvie didn’t know if she should have asked, but she couldn’t help herself.
“It’s funny. We may be from very different backgrounds, but we’re very similar people. We both love the countryside, and fresh air, and both of us are introverts. We want the same things out of life—a big family, a house filled with animals and kids. And he makes me feel safe. I’m a caretaker, I always have been, and he adores that, and”—she shrugged, lowering her voice—“as I may or may not have already mentioned, the sex is great!”
Topher burst out laughing as Maggie’s phone rang. “Okay,” she muttered after answering, her face falling. “No? Today? Do you have to? But . . .” There was a silence while she listened. “Okay,” she said eventually before hanging up with a frown.
“Everything okay?”
“I’d hoped Ben might drop in earlier to see you both. But he says he’s caught up in the pub with his friends, who are determined to give him a special send-off. God, I hope he’s not getting drunk.”
“The night before the wedding? It’s unlikely, surely,” reassured Topher, but Maggie continued to look unhappy.
“Look, if you can’t beat them . . .” Topher waved the waitress over and ordered another bottle of champagne, with some tea sandwiches to “soak up the alcohol.”
* * *
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Later that day Topher came to collect Evvie from her room for the rehearsal dinner. She was in a full-length silver crochet dress, her hair in a low chignon, and her makeup was far more subtle than she had worn earlier.
“Wow.” Topher whistled when she walked out, her skin glowing. “You look like a supermodel.”
“Ha ha,” said Evvie, nudging him with her shoulder as they walked toward the elevator. “You don’t look so bad yourself, all scrubbed up and in a suit. Brioni?”
“Oh you’re good.” He smiled.
“They’re paying you well.”
“I’m very lucky.”
They passed a large gilt mirror on the wall and paused. “Look at us.” Evvie sighed. “We’d make a beautiful couple. Wouldn’t it be fun? We’d have separate bedrooms and I’d never bother you for sex.”
“Well that’s a relief, because it’s highly unlikely I’d respond. Even if you were my type, which, quite clearly, you are not, I’ll always take a cup of tea and an early night over sex. I think in another life I must have been Boy George.”
“Even with Larry?”
“God, yes! That’s one of the things I love so much about him. He’s just as happy to climb into bed with the newspapers. I’m sure it’s why it works so well.”
“You don’t have sex?”
“Darling, I don’t remember the last time we had sex. That’s not really what our relationship is. It’s friendship, and partnership, and love. If anything, it’s much more than sex.”
“No idea what you’re talking about.” Evvie laughed. “Which is probably my downfall. My relationships are always about mostly sex.” She didn’t say that it was the only time she felt powerful, the only time she knew what to do in order to feel loved.