Josie shot a slightly alarmed look at Jess, which she tried to cover with a smile. “Josie,” she said, more loudly than felt comfortable. He nodded, not making her repeat it, thank God. She glanced at the now two empty seats on her right. This man, surely, could not be John’s friend’s plus one—so that explained the last empty seat—but maybe he knew Erin somehow? It seemed a bit of an odd addition to the table otherwise, and Laura wasn’t the type to assign people to tables randomly.
“I’m Graeme,” he said with a nod.
“And, err, how do you know the bride and groom?” Josie asked politely, disconcerted that his attention now seemed to be focused solely on her.
“John’s uncle,” he grunted, helping himself to the bread on the table. Well, if he had, then surely she could too. But her hand was only halfway to the breadbasket when Graeme’s booming voice started up again. “I was supposed to be on tha’ table over there,” he said, glaring at the table in question, which was home to five people around his age, chatting away merrily.
“Oh,” said Josie. “Right.”
“But my wife left me.” He was still glaring at the table, and Josie wondered which of those people was his wife. The petite woman who’d decided to own her greying hair or the friendly-looking brunette with a glass of something in hand? Neither seemed a likely candidate.
“Oh,” Josie said again. She shot a glance at Jess, trying to bring her into the conversation, but she and Tom were deep in conversation about something, Jess pursing her lips at whatever Tom was whispering to her. Great. “Well, that’s…Gosh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Left me fer a younger model,” he said gruffly, his expression twisting in a way that actually made Josie feel sorry for him. He slathered his bread in butter, fixing Josie with a look as he took a big bite of it. “Writer type,” he said, and a tiny piece of that bread came flying back out of his mouth, very nearly landing on Josie’s cheek. She tried to edge away as subtly as she could. “A total roaster,” Graeme continued. Josie nodded, having no idea what he meant by that, but presuming it was some kind of insult. “No money at all. You just watch, she’ll regret it. But I won’t be having her back, ye hear me?” He glared at Josie, as if she’d suggested the opposite.
“No,” Josie said quickly. “No, of course not.” What the hell were Jess and Tom talking about? And where the hell was John’s friend Erin? She’d gladly take anyone to get out of this conversation right now.
“Anyway,” Graeme said, narrowing his eyes again at the table he’d apparently been supposed to be sitting at. “I told John I wouldnae sit over there with all of her friends.” So, maybe the wife wasn’t even here? Josie didn’t dare ask. “I told him he had t’ move me when I saw the plan for tonight.” Josie nodded, inwardly thinking how Laura must have hated the last-minute change.
A waiter came round with a bottle of champagne, pouring it into their glasses on the table, which thankfully provided Graeme with a brief distraction from Josie. She’d taken her first grateful sip of the bubbly liquid when a slim blond woman approached, wearing a dress of brilliant red with lipstick to match, her eyes framed with gold eyeliner in a way that made them almost scarily blue. Josie choked on her champagne, and saw Graeme frowning at her.
Jess looked around Graeme to give her a quizzical look, but Josie’s attention was on the woman, whose eyes were on Josie now. She raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow.
Fuck, Josie remembered this woman. Erin. Max’s girlfriend. Fuck, fuck. She took another gulp of champagne. What were the bloody chances? She hadn’t even thought it would be the same Erin—why the hell would she? Oh God. Her plus one. Josie felt a jolt and immediately looked around, her eyes still watering from her choking fiasco. She couldn’t see him. So maybe it wouldn’t be him after all—maybe they’d broken up since she’d last seen them, just like her and Oliver.
When she reached the table, Erin’s full, sexy lips quirked into a smile when she saw Josie, though she only looked mildly surprised to see her here—or else she was better at hiding it than Josie. “Hi all,” she said as she took her seat, right next to Josie. “I’m Erin.” Unlike Graeme’s, Erin’s accent was all lilting and musical, and a quick glance at Jess and Tom told Josie that they were having the exact same thoughts that Josie had first had when she’d met Erin in New York—literally no one would be able to look at this woman and not think she was sexy. Graeme was staring at her, his glass of champagne halfway to his mouth, and Josie swore she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d licked his lips. She cringed internally, trying not to let it show on her face.