“Speaking of which,” Nick said, nudging me flirtatiously, “you would not believe the unholy things I’m thinking.”
“Can you get your mind out of the sack for a second?” I grinned.
“Not a chance,” he said. “I’ve been on the high seas, Rebecca. It makes a man thirsty.”
I laughed. “Settle down, Sub-Lieutenant. I’m a sure thing,” I said. “But first I have so much to tell you.”
“Nicholas!” said Paddington, breezing back from wherever she’d found her meditative bliss. “What a fucking pleasure!” She wetly pecked both his cheeks. “I haven’t seen you since that night we…well. You know.”
“Er,” Nick said, the tips of ears beginning to vibrate.
“He’s such a spiritual lover,” Paddington said to me.
“He…yes?” The implied question mark at the end was unintentional.
“The plane we were on was exquisite. I am so fucking delighted he’s found the right soul to unite with in carnal Nirvana,” Paddington said, and she seemed profoundly earnest about it. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my sex partner is waiting for me over there.”
During the ensuing seconds of silence, I must have burned a thousand calories just keeping my face impassive.
“We were split up. It was just one time,” he said.
“One very spiritual time.”
“And it only happened because I didn’t actually recognize her until after. Well, during.” He rubbed his head. “Wait, I’m making it worse. This is why I didn’t want to get into everything that happened during the Dark Period. It was just…you know…things happen over the course of two years and…two years, Bex.”
“Relax, I think it’s funny,” I said. “Things happened with me, too. Want me to spill one to even the score?”
I was teasing, but my eyes drifted to Clive. And then, against my will, toward Freddie. Maybe it was time to clear the ledger.
“Emphatically not,” Nick said. “Honestly, I prefer pretending those two years never happened.” He shook his head, as if evicting the thought. “How is everything else? How’s Lacey? How is your mother? Are you eloping with Barnes?” He took my hand. “Are you really okay?”
My eyes met his, that cornflower blue I would be able to recreate in oils from memory even if I never saw him again. I felt my jagged edges begin to realign.
“I am now,” I said.
* * *
Royal Ascot was awesome, even if Freddie would have poked fun at that very American turn of phrase. Gaz had the first three winners, and every single horse I backed came in dead last, which we agreed was, in its way, also a highly specialized achievement. The din of the spectators was infectious, but when the Gold Cup came around, the Royal Box fell silent. Everyone there had some sum of money—nominal or otherwise—on Dynastic, including Gaz, whose pick-six Jackpot ticket now depended on the filly. When the gates flew open the tension was palpable, and Dynastic, stuck in fifth place, wasn’t helping.
“Come on, get ’er going,” Gaz urged. “That’s the ticket.”
“She’s gaining,” Freddie said excitedly. “Must’ve eaten her Weetabix this morning.”
“Come on Dynastic.” Gaz again, bathed in sweat.
“Come on, Perpetual Ocean,” whispered Bea. “Oh, leave it out,” she said when I gave her a mock-scandalized expression.
And then, right out of My Fair Lady: “GO ON, MY GIRL. MOVE YOUR ARSE.”
It was Eleanor.
And it unlocked the room. Everyone began roaring and jumping in place, and when Dynastic galloped across the finish line a nose in first, Eleanor lit up so brightly that she may have emitted UV rays. Spectators below the Royal Enclosure looked up, cheering, the men tossing their toppers into the air to celebrate the Queen’s win. When an impromptu chorus of the anthem rang out, Eleanor waved with more vigor than I’d ever seen, before throwing her arms around a bemused Richard and knocking his top hat askew.
Gaz whooped and twirled Cilla. “My love, that’s four in a row. I’ve never had this kind of luck. It’s all down to you. You’re the Gold Cup,” he said, dropping on one knee. “Marry me, you distressingly foxy goddess.”
Cilla blinked. “What? Are you drunk? You’ve got two to go before your bet pays out.”
“If you say yes, then I’ve already won,” Gaz said. “Look, I’ll rip up the ticket right now to prove I don’t care—”
“No!” Nick and I shouted in unison.
“No, you clod, don’t rip up your bloody Jackpot,” Cilla said, though she had tears shining in her eyes. “I believe you. Of course I’ll marry you. Who else would be mad enough to do it?”