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“Bunny Collins, my love, my light, my angel. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
A hushed silence descended on the crowd as we all waited for her answer.
That should have been me.
My heart ached with the thought, and I tried to shake it away, bile rising in my throat. I needed to stay calm. I couldn’t have a meltdown here, no matter how dark it was in the back corner of the room.
How many times in the time we’d been together had I imagined we would get married? All those dreams for our future I’d naively hoped for. I’d thought Max and I were made for each other.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Dom muttered as he tightened his grip.
He wasn’t exactly Bunny’s number-one fan. He made a point of avoiding her as much as possible, always taking the seat furthest from her when Mum invited them both to brunch. He hated dramatics, especially Bunny’s.
There was a pause as the music turned tense, violins echoing around the ballroom. The crowd held their breath. For one moment, I thought she would say no.
But she launched herself into his arms, knocking him back and scattering kisses across his face. A stab of guilt pierced me as I watched the woman I loved like a sister scream with laughter when Max rose and lifted her into his arms.
People shouted and cheered, clapping over the music, which had smoothly transitioned into the wedding march. They released the rest of the rose petals in a heavenly pink waterfall, the light returning to the room. The reporters were already moving through the crowd like sharks, itching to be the first to interview the happy couple.
I needed to get away. I couldn’t watch this. It felt like all the years of wondering if he’d moved on and forgotten me were summed up in this moment. That familiar numbness was spreading.
Dom tugged my hand, and I glanced up at him. He looked amazing in a navy-blue suit and maroon tie, the colours bringing out his naturally tan skin and sharp blue eyes. “Come on, let’s find Harry.”
My brother was the Acting Head Director of the Fischer Foundation, one of the most notable charities in Europe. Every year, our family raises millions for different charitable causes, all under the umbrella of the Foundation. Mum had been using the Foundation to fund her private parties since she took over from our grandmother, and when we found out, Harry had exploded. It had taken him almost a year to convince the rest of the Board, but with Dad’s backing, they consented to his request and installed him as Acting Head Director. When he finished his doctor’s residency at the Imperial College he would fully step into the role. For appearances sake and to prevent a scandal, everyone else believed the Mum still served as the Head Director.
And Harry had been trying to entice me to come and work at the Foundation ever since. It was tempting, but I was sure it was mostly so I could be the first line of defence every time Mum went up against him in front of the Board.
It also meant anyone interested in furthering their social status would badger him endlessly. He’d taken on the Foundation for noble reasons, without realising that the real work lay in making and maintaining connections.
We found my brother hiding near the grotesque champagne fountain on the other side of the runway. The fountain was comprised of four cherubs holding vases, pouring gentle streams of champagne for people to fill their glasses, but it was beneath anyone of our standing to ever do something so unseemly. Only the staff came near it, and it meant Harry could hide.
Harry looked relieved when he saw us trailing towards him, pushing through the crowd of chatty celebrities and stuffy businessmen to get to him. His girlfriend, Kate, loathed these parties and would only come if there was a theme or something ‘actually fun’. She had tried so many times to interact with guests, but as soon as the snobs who associated themselves with our family found out she was a medical intern from Hackney, they brushed her off.
“You look…um…different.” Harry said as he eyed my dress.
“Yeah, nice to see you too,” I threw back sarcastically.
Grabbing an empty flute, I leant over the fountain’s rim to fill it. Harry had gone with a simple black suit and white shirt. He preferred to keep things low-key.
“Can you believe her?” Dom scowled at Bunny onstage. “I swear she gets more over the top every time she hosts one of these things.”
“She’s harmless, Dom. It’s her way of having fun.” Harry chided him. He was more tolerant of Bunny’s antics.
Dom dwarfed Harry, looking down at him with a grin. Harry was built the same as Dad and Grace, all heavy-set shoulders and wide hips, but he wore his weight well. The four of us had the same chestnut hair and dark blue eyes, but I had Mum’s height, while Grace and Harry had Dad’s stoutness. Mum and Jazz were made of finer stuff.
Endless shifts at the hospital combined with his work for the Foundation made Harry paler than he used to be, with permanent bags under his eyes and a strong crease between his brow. If he didn’t have Dom and Kate to look after him, he’d work himself into the ground.
“Sure, but why does she have to drag us into it?” Dom threw a glance over his shoulder at the stage, where Bunny was jumping up and down amongst drifts of rose petals, squealing with happiness.
“You don’t have to be here.” I nudged him, and he frowned at me, those perfect dimples doing nothing to convince me he was annoyed.
After finding out about Max, I’d specifically asked him to come. I wanted backup. Besides, he never left Harry alone at these things, or passed up the opportunity to sample any beautiful men who showed an interest. He was an awful flirt.
“And how are you?” Dom turned back to his best friend.
Harry grinned, smiling up at him as we started to chat.
We had ten minutes of peace before they found us. I had my back to them, facing Harry and the wall, so I didn’t have time to execute my well-structured escape plan, which involved gracefully bolting towards the private greenhouse at the back of the building.
