Kendra leans over her place setting on the other side of Joel, who sits between us. “Is it true what I heard? Henry was trapped in a mine recently?”
“Yes. A couple of weeks ago.”
She presses her hand against her cleavage. “That must have been so scary.”
“It was terrifying,” I admit, glancing across to where Henry sits. He’s not paying attention, deep in conversation with Merrick who, as the only solo guest, is at the head of the table. I’m sure he’d rather bypass a conversation about his recent ordeal.
“Oui, but our Abigail was strong.” Margo beams at me from her spot next to Henry.
“I didn’t eat or sleep until he came home. I was an absolute mess, and you know that because you dropped everything to be there for me. Because you’re a wonderful friend.” Who I’m so happy insisted on coming tonight. Not that there’s been any real awkwardness. It’s as if no time has passed since Henry and his childhood friends last saw one another, which I suppose is normal for such a close group.
Margo and Joel fit neatly into the cluster, strangers or not—though it seems Margo has met all the men before. Kendra is friendly and talkative and has been peppering me with questions all evening. Tatiana is the only one I haven’t spoken to tonight. Warner’s date strolled in ten minutes before dinner, her slender nose in the air, the revealing crisscross front of her cobalt dress covering only half of her breasts. She offered weak hellos before stepping out onto the terrace to fix her crimson lipstick and take selfies. She seems uninterested in dinner, not taking more than a bite of each course. Given how tight her outfit is, she might not be able to fit food in there. The vodka, though, that flows freely …
It seems odd that an outgoing man like Warner would choose to spend an evening with someone like this, but thankfully, her apathetic demeanor hasn’t dampened the multiple conversations that buzz around the dining table as the delectable fall harvest-themed courses arrive and easy laughter erupts.
“So, how did you and Henry meet?” Kendra asks.
I guess she hasn’t done all her homework about us. If she had, she’d know the answer. That, or she’s fishing for more information than what she gleaned from the tabloids. “I worked at the new Wolf Hotel in Alaska for the summer.”
“This past summer? So you two, like, just met.” I don’t miss the inflection in her voice, the words she doesn’t say.
She seems to eye Henry more keenly.
“I guess when you know, you know.” I smooth my finger over the pearl in my ring, doing my best to bury my deepest fears threatening to rise, the ones I wish I could shed.
He’ll change his mind. He won’t go through with it.
“Henry is a man who knows what he wants and doesn’t waste time going after it.” Margo winks at me before sipping her wine. Is she saying that for Kendra’s benefit or mine? Maybe both. Either way, I could kiss her.
“Have you hired a photographer yet?” Joel asks, changing the topic to one I don’t mind being laid out bare on the table.
“Not yet. The wedding planner I’m working with is sending me a list of options.”
“Mais non! You cannot hire someone off a list.” He grips my forearm, his touch warm. “I would be honored to photograph your wedding, Abbi.”
“Um …” My cheeks flush. Joel is famous for close-up stills of the female body during orgasm. He has an entire collection hanging in an art gallery. I accidentally saw him in action once, in Margo’s French chateau, and I’ve seen examples of his work. How do I decline this suggestion politely? “I think we’re looking for something more traditional?”
He barks with laughter. “Not those types of photographs.” He digs his phone from his pocket and pulls up an album. “I also have these in my portfolio.”
I watch with fascination as he scrolls through stunning shots of women in elegant dresses and men in suits. “I took these at my dear friend Enrique’s wedding. There, see his bride?”
“Wow.” They’re candid and have a glamorous, old-world feel to them. “These look like magazine shots.”
“They ended up selling them to a popular French bridal publication, so I guess they are?” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal.
“Joel has photographed the most famous models for the biggest brands in the world,” Margo jumps in, smiling at him. “He is a superb talent. You would be very lucky to have him capture your special day. I will hire him one day, if I ever decide to marry.”