The Guilt Trip(66)
“Here,” says Paige, handing her a lipstick from her bag.
Rachel takes it, twisting the silver casing in her hand, trying not to cry again. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she says, hugging Paige to her.
“I’m sure you’d manage.” Paige laughs.
“No. I don’t think I would.”
“Well, good thing you don’t have to, then.”
As the two women walk out of the bathroom Ali momentarily stops what she’s saying. Rachel’s not remotely surprised that, as uncustomary as it is for the bride to give a speech, Ali has taken it upon herself to give one. Another chance to be in the spotlight, just in case she’s not been in it enough already.
Jack looks at Rachel like a six-year-old boy whose mum’s come late to the nativity play, but once she’s sitting beside him, he softens and rubs her back.
“Are you all right?” he whispers.
Rachel nods, the bitter taste in her mouth rendering her speechless.
“So, all that’s left to say,” Ali goes on, picking up a champagne glass, “is that William Hunter, I love you and I can’t thank you enough for choosing me to be your wife.”
As the diners stand to toast the couple, Ali throws a hand in the air. “Oh my goodness, I almost forgot … Jack, where are you?”
Rachel stiffens as Jack squirms beside her.
“Ah, there you are,” says Ali, as if she’d not known where he’d been sitting for the past three hours. “Jack, ladies and gentlemen, is the person I should really be thanking.”
Rachel falls back down into her chair, feeling like the air’s been sucked out of her.
“Yes, please sit,” says Ali, motioning with her free hand.
“It would be remiss of me not to mention Jack, because if it weren’t for him, none of us would be here right now. I was working for Jack when he introduced me to his brother Will, and I will be forever in his debt. Though, that’s not to say I’d ever work for him again.”
The audience titters nervously while Jack stays focused on the bitter cup of coffee in front of him.
“I certainly hope he’s a better husband than he is a boss, Rachel,” Ali goes on, before dissolving into a schoolgirl giggle.
Rachel’s ears go hot as she feels forty pairs of eyes turning to look at her, their laughter easier now that they’ve worked out who the butt of the joke is supposed to be. She grips at the tablecloth, desperately trying to find the strength to stand up, to put a stop to this and tell everyone that Ali already knows he’s not a better husband. How can he be, when he’s having sex with her?
She half expects Jack to stand up and defend her; tell his mistress that his wife is off-limits, but of course, he doesn’t. He just sits there, with the tightest of smiles stretched across his face, and white-knuckled fists clenching his napkin.
“So, thank you, Jack,” says Ali. “For everything. I hope I’m able to pay you back, tenfold.”
Every word grates into Rachel’s consciousness, the meaning behind each one, hidden from all but her, and most likely Paige, who she can’t bear to look at. How could any woman be so audacious as to wrap up promised pleasures to her lover in a veiled speech at her wedding?
“But until then,” says Ali, as if affirming Rachel’s worst fears, “let’s get this party started!”
20
“I’m just going for a smoke,” says Jack as the restaurant staff begins to move tables to make way for a dance floor.
“I’ll join you,” says Paige tersely.
Rachel looks at her wide-eyed, in silent warning.
Paige, her jaw set, as if she’s in court and about to deliver the blow to the jugular, surreptitiously shakes her head, as if to say, “I know, don’t worry.”
As Rachel watches the pair of them walk across the emptying restaurant and out onto the terrace, there’s a part of her that wishes Paige would take him to task. She has a way with words that Rachel could never begin to emulate. She’d be able to deliver the ultimatum clearly and succinctly with no room for error or misunderstanding on Jack’s part. He either stops whatever he’s doing with Ali and begs for forgiveness, or he chooses to be with her. The very thought of him leaving sends shooting pains across her chest and she struggles for breath. Josh would never forgive him, she knows that much, but then he’d never forgive her either, if he found out the father he was mourning wasn’t his father after all.
“Hey, you okay?” asks Noah, coming over just as the table in front of her is taken away. She hasn’t even noticed that she is almost the last person on a chair.
“You still not feeling well?”
“Erm, no,” she says, getting up. “I feel a bit sick.”
“Could it be something you’ve eaten?” he asks, his voice full of concern.
“Well, if it’s something I’ve eaten, then we’re about to see everyone else drop like flies too.” It’s an attempt at a joke, to ease the tense atmosphere, but it comes out like a sarcastic barb.
“I want a paternity test,” says Noah.
Rachel’s blood feels like it’s stopped moving, her heart shocked into submission. The whole room and all the people in it seem frozen in time, in suspended animation. Will has his head thrown back, laughing heartily; Chrissy is in the throes of being twirled around by a waiter; and Ali … Ali is looking directly at Rachel and Noah with a knowing expression.