Beautiful Liar (32 page)

Jas had told me that she was going with a traditional waltz for the first dance. As “Moon River” started, Hugh took her in his arms and swept her around the dance floor, with an expertise that surprised me—and, from the joyous look of surprise on Jas's face, her too.

I joined in the round of applause like everyone else. Then I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see the photographer's assistant, a young, birdlike brunette, who was super-organised. When I saw Alex standing beside her, I began to get a bad feeling, which wasn't made any better by the apologetic look on his face.

“We need a picture of you two dancing,” she said bluntly.

“Oh, no—” I began, but she held up her hand to cut me off.

“Look.” She nodded towards Alex. “Lover-boy here has already tried to make excuses. Now, I get that you two have some issue with each other. Bad break-up, right?” She laughed at the astonished looks on our faces. “Part of being good at this job is being able to read people. All I would say to you both is, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. I'm
not going to force you to dance together. But try to remember this day isn't about you. This is for your friends.”

She gave us a moment for her words to sink in, before saying, “So . . . what's it going to be?”

Alex and I looked at each other. After that little lecture, there was no way either of us could object without feeling childish. Alex held out his arm to me. I hesitated for just a second before taking it. A jolt of electricity passed through me as we touched, and I let out an involuntary gasp. But if Alex noticed my reaction, he chose not to show it.

“Don't worry,” he said, as he led me onto the dance floor. “Just a couple of minutes and this will all be over.”

Before I could answer, he whirled me round to face him. Then he assumed the classic ballroom dancer's positioning, his left hand enclosing mine, while his right rested just below my shoulder blade, forming a firm frame. Without a word, he began to lead me expertly round the floor, perfectly in time to the music. I'd never waltzed before, but somehow I was moving effortlessly, as though I'd been doing this all my life—the sign of a strong male lead.

I'd planned not to speak during the dance—it had seemed wisest not to. But it was hard not to comment on his skill.

“You know how to waltz?”

A smile touched his lips, probably at the surprise in my voice. “That's down to Hugh. He insisted on all the groomsmen taking lessons.”

I looked around, and saw that the other groomsmen and bridesmaids were moving expertly across the floor, in a perfect swirl of colours. It looked as coordinated as a scene from a movie.

“It doesn't seem like his style,” I couldn't help saying.

Alex shrugged his large shoulders. “Maybe not. But he knew Jas would love it, and he wanted this to be her perfect day.”

Even the cynic in me had to admit that it was a nice thing to have done. I'd been wrong about Hugh—he obviously would do anything to make Jas happy.

It was then that I remembered something I'd noticed earlier. “So where's Helen?”

“Not here.” Alex paused, and I felt my heart speed up. “We broke up.”

“Oh.” I forced my voice to sound nonchalant. “That's a shame. She seemed nice.”

“She is.” Alex's eyes flicked over to me. “But she isn't you.”

The music stopped, which would have been my perfect chance to make my excuses and exit the floor. But I made no move to leave. The orchestra struck up with a slower number, which I recognised as “What a Wonderful World.” With the change of pace, Alex instinctively dropped the formal ballroom positioning, which required us to keep a distance, and instead drew me closer to him, his left hand
trailing down to the small of my back as his right caressed the nape of my neck, taking me into his embrace so I was pressed up against his strong, hard body.

I threaded my arms around his neck, and rested my head against his firm chest. My eyes fluttered closed, and I sighed contentedly against him.

Alex's arms tightened around me, and he buried his face in my hair.

“So help me, I still love you, Nina,” he murmured against my ear.

“I still love you, too.”

I felt him stiffen against me. I don't think he'd been expecting a response like that from me. But the truth was, I did miss him. He meant so much to me. I suppose his betrayal wouldn't have hurt me so deeply otherwise.

The number was coming to an end. I think we both sensed that if we had anything to say, it needed to be said now.

Alex pulled away from me a little and looked directly into my eyes. “I meant what I said all those months ago. I know I made mistakes in the past, and perhaps they're too big for you to ever forgive me. But I'm trying to change, Nina. I want to change—for you.”

I could see the sincerity in his ice-blue eyes. I'd been adamant that I'd never be able to see a future for us—never be able to trust him again after the way he'd deceived me. But
now, nearly eight months later, knowing that he was trying to turn his life around and hadn't fallen back into his old ways, I could see that he wasn't the same boy who'd recklessly killed my father; neither was he the same man who'd set out to use me as a way to spite his father. He'd said that he'd changed—but for the first time ever, I was inclined to believe him.

My heartbeat sped up as I made my decision.

I glanced around the room. “We can't talk about this here. It's not the time . . .”

“Then say you'll meet me.” He spoke with urgency, as though he knew this might be our last chance to speak privately. “At half past twelve, once this is all over. We can go somewhere . . . just to talk. What do you say?”

“Yes.” I answered without hesitation, and with a breathless quality to my voice that surprised me. “I'll meet you.”

A smile spread across his features. “Twelve thirty. In the entrance hall.”

Just then, the band played the final chords, and the room burst into applause. Before we could say another word, Hugh's mother appeared by Alex's side, asking for the next dance with him. He squeezed my hand one last time, and then he was spirited away, leaving me by myself on the edge of the dance floor.

I gazed after him, already calculating how long it was until midnight. I was surprised at just how excited I was by
the prospect of being alone with him again.

The rest of the evening seemed to drag. The reception was due to end at midnight, and at a quarter to, exactly on schedule, the bride and groom departed up to their suite. All the guests gathered to watch them go up, Jas pausing on the sweeping stairway to throw her bouquet.

As we all gave the newly-weds one last round of applause, I looked for Alex, but I couldn't see him anywhere. I frowned a little, puzzled by his non-appearance, as I'd assumed he'd have to be there as part of his best-man duties. But I didn't have time to give it much more thought. I was caught up in a flurry of goodbyes, fulfilling the chief-bridesmaid duties Jas had placed on me, making sure to see everyone into taxis and ensuring that any gifts were stored safely for her to see the next morning.

By a quarter past twelve, most people were gone, apart from a few of Hugh's friends, who'd gathered in the bar for
a final round of drinks. At twenty-five past, I was standing in the entrance, as Alex had instructed. By twenty to one, he still hadn't turned up, and he didn't appear to be answering his phone. The happiness I'd felt earlier had begun to turn to unease.

“You waiting for someone?”

I looked up and saw Giles.

“It's Alex. He said he'd meet me here ten minutes ago.”

Something in Giles's expression put me on alert.

“What is it?” I could see him hesitating, and guessed he was going to try to evade the question. “Come on. Tell me. Do you know where Alex is?”

He glanced around, to check who was listening. “I saw him going upstairs about an hour ago . . .”

“Who with?” The uncomfortable look on Giles's face didn't deter me. “Giles. Tell me—who was he with?”

“He was with Tori. I think she had some coke with her . . .” I drifted off into a daze. How could he do this to me again? “Nina? Nina, are you all right? Can I give you a lift somewhere?”

All I wanted right then was to get out of there. “Yes.” My voice sounded hollow and distant, even to my own ears. “A lift home would be great, thanks.”

Outside, the valet brought his car around—the dark grey Jaguar. As we got into the car, I gave Giles my address.

He clearly sensed I was in no mood to talk, so we drove
along in silence for a while. I stared out the window, trying to focus on the activity on the streets—anything other than what had just happened. But I couldn't. Something was niggling at me. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something about this just didn't feel right. I didn't care what Giles said—I really didn't believe Alex would stand me up like that. I remembered the way he had held me and spoken to me on the dance floor. The tenderness and yearning I'd felt had been genuine, I was sure of it—there was no way the man who had spoken so convincingly about loving me and wanting to change would have suddenly gone off to get high and get laid. In that moment, I knew without doubt that he wouldn't do that to me.

“I want to go back,” I said suddenly.

Giles's eyes flicked over to me. “Why?” His voice was guarded. “Have you forgotten something?”

“No. I just want to speak to Alex—find out what's going on for myself.”

“I really don't think that's a good idea—” Giles began.

As if on cue, my phone started to ring. I opened my bag and looked at the display.

“It's Alex,” I said.

But just as I was about to answer the call, Giles shouted, “Don't!” Shocked, I looked over at him, and he said in a calmer voice, “Please, Nina. Don't answer that!”

“Why not?”

“Because I don't want you to.”

Before I could argue back, he snatched the phone from my hand and dropped it on the floor of the car.

“What the hell—?” I stared at Giles in disbelief. “What's going on?”

He shook his head. “I'm sorry, Nina. I can't have you talking to Alex at the moment. I just need a little while to sort things out—”

He seemed to be babbling—or at least his words made no sense to me.

“I don't understand. You don't want me talking to Alex? Why not?”

His eyes flashed over to me, and I could see fear there. I took in the way his hands were gripping the steering wheel, so tight that his knuckles had turned white. Something was very, very wrong . . .

I tried to slot the pieces together. Giles had lied about Alex standing me up, and he'd stopped me from talking to his brother, too. Whatever was going on, he obviously wanted to keep me away from Alex. But why? What was so important?

Next to me, Giles was still rambling on. “It was so awful about your father. I lost my mother when I was young, so I know how it feels. That shouldn't have happened to your father, though. It wasn't fair. I did feel for you and your family—”

My father?
The turn in the conversation confused me. Why was he talking about my father?

“Giles, what're you saying?” I tried again. “You're not making any sense.”

But he didn't seem to be listening. “I shouldn't have taken the car that night. Then none of this would've happened.” He banged his fist against the steering wheel. “I've ruined your life, and Alex's, too. It's all my fault.”

It took me a second to process that. And then, suddenly, everything started to fall into place.

“Oh God.” I clasped a hand to my mouth, feeling sick.

Giles glanced over at me. “Nina?” His voice was nervous as he said my name.

“It was you, wasn't it?” My voice sounded hollow, almost disembodied. “You were the one driving the car that killed my father—not Alex.”

He closed his eyes briefly. “Yes,” he said finally, and I may have been imagining it, but he almost sounded relieved. “You're right. I was driving that night. I was the one who killed your father.”

I looked at Giles. I was still trying hard to digest the fact that he was the one who'd been behind the wheel that night.

“But why does everyone think it was Alex? I don't understand.” I'd broken up with Alex; I'd spent time hating him. And he'd just let me. It made no sense. Why hadn't he told anyone the truth? “What the hell happened that night?” When he didn't answer, I said, “Giles, please. You need to tell me this. You owe me the truth at least.”

I was aware that Giles had made a U-turn, and we were now driving away from my flat. But I wasn't able to digest the significance. There were far more pressing concerns.

I needed Giles to tell me what had really happened that night.

He sighed heavily, and then said, “It was the end of the Christmas holidays. I'd just found out I'd got into Oxford, and a few friends invited me out to celebrate.” He ran a
hand over his face, and I could tell even now it was painful for him to think about. “Alex was always breaking rules—the cool kid who everyone looked up to. But I felt I had to be sensible all the time—keep up my marks so I didn't let our father down. I always had something to prove.

“I'd never done anything reckless in my life, but that night I decided I would live on the edge for once. Dad had a collection of amazing cars. Alex would steal them all the time, even though he hadn't passed his driving test. But he always seemed to get away with it. So that night I decided to do the same.”

He glanced over at me, clearly trying to gauge my reaction. I tried to keep my face impassive. I wanted him to tell his story, the whole unvarnished truth.

“When no one was looking, I took one of the cars, and drove to a nearby pub to meet my friends. I didn't usually drink, but that night everyone was encouraging me, and I thought: Why not? I felt I was entitled to enjoy my night—take one evening off from playing by the rules.”