The Perfect Girlfriend(53)

‘Isn’t this amazing?’ I say to Nate. ‘I feel like I’m on a film set, waiting for lights, camera, action!’

Nate grins.

Relief floods through me. My whole body feels weak.

‘This beats last night,’ he says.

‘I’m going to enjoy every moment,’ I say. ‘I’m sure I won’t do anything like this ever again.’

‘Me neither,’ says Nate.

We reach the entrance. Jackson drives up to the window and a minister approaches us from a side door. His dreadlocks are tied back into a ponytail. He is wearing a welcoming smile.

‘All set?’

‘Sure am,’ I hear myself say in a fake accent.

I must be more nervous than I realize. But after what I’ve gone through to get here, I’m entitled. Every bride is nervous on her wedding day and I wouldn’t be normal if I didn’t feel even the slightest bit of anxiety. The minister introduces us to ‘the officiant’ who is a tall woman, with long, dark curly hair. She looks angelic, not unlike the ones painted into the midnight-blue ceiling above us, with stars and silvery crescents among the angels.

Jackson steps out of the car and stands politely to attention.

The ceremony begins. At approximately fifteen minutes, I’ve chosen one of the shortest ceremonies possible – but still, a quarter of an hour is a quarter of an hour.

‘Welcome, Elizabeth Juliette Magnolia Price and Nathan Edward Goldsmith. Are there any guests joining us from the United Kingdom this evening?’

I shake my head and from deep within, I summon up all my self-belief. I picture myself as an actress playing an important, career-changing role at a theatre-in-the-round production.

‘We are gathered here today . . .’

I smile and take hold of Nate’s hand.

He whispers, ‘Can’t we just go back to the bar?’

I whisper back, squeezing his hand, ‘We can go back in a minute.’

‘Do you, Nathan Edward Goldsmith, take Elizabeth Juliette Price to be your lawful, wedded wife?’

I hold my breath.

He looks at me.

‘I do,’ I gently coax in a whisper.

‘I do,’ he repeats.

When it’s my turn to repeat my vows, my voice doesn’t sound like my own. I wish William was my page boy but, of course, he’d be too old now. He could be a witness or could have given me away. I feel a twinge of guilt at not inviting Barbara.

We don’t have rings to exchange, which is a shame, but I thought it would be a step too far when it comes to Nate believing that this whole night was an impromptu, mutual agreement. I try not to glance down at my watch because, nice as our minister is, he is, unfortunately, a talker.

‘I’ve been married for seventeen years and the best bit of advice I like to share is that you must never, I repeat, never go to sleep on an argument. Start each day with a clean slate.’

I daren’t look at Nate as I start to feel him fidget.

Finally I hear the words, ‘By the power vested in me by the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife.’

There is a camera flash. I lean over and kiss Nate on the lips. I hear the words ‘smile’ and ‘congratulations’. We are showered with confetti as we sign our names. I’m vaguely aware of handing over gratuities and saying ‘thank you’, several times.

It’s a total, utter, exhilarating, overwhelming dream come true. I can feel my hands shaking.

I’d love to be able to announce it on all my social media pages and wait for the outpouring of congratulations and good wishes. I fantasize that everyone would be happy for us, including Bella, and they’d wish us well.

As we pull away from the Tunnel of Love, Nate holds my hand, just like we’re in a proper fairy tale and, for once, I’m playing the starring role.





18


I insist we go back to my room. I want him on my territory for a change.

We are alone on our wedding night; the night I have been dreaming of for years.

We kiss before the door even shuts properly behind us, as though he has missed me as much as I him. Clumsily, I guide Nate to my bed as we half-kiss, half-embrace whilst he steps backwards. He lies down straight away. But before I can even join him, his eyes shut.

‘Nate! Nate!’ I shake him roughly by the shoulders.

He has to wake up. We have to do this properly, otherwise it just won’t work. I shake him again, then pinch him hard on the upper arm, but he remains dead to the world.

He snores gently.

After a couple more attempts, I give up and decide instead to savour my achievement. I phone room service and order champagne, plus a selection of luxury nibbles. Next, I call the concierge to check that our DVD, printed photos and USB have been sent over from the chapel, seeing as I paid for an express service. I love Vegas, it is so wonderfully accommodating. I dim the lights by the bed, pull off Nate’s shoes, remove his wallet from his back pocket and cover him up with the duvet as best I can. It is hard work pushing him on to his side, he is bloody heavy.

I wait.

He remains unconscious.

In my bag, several sleeping pills and four of the antidepressants I took from Amy’s remain untouched. I didn’t need any backup drugs. Nate was as docile as a lamb. I succeeded in getting him to the right level of pliability to make him reckless, but not unmanageable. Until now.