“I did like that,” he admits. “Anyway, I must be going.”
“Don’t you want to lecture me?”
“I do not lecture, Joe. I offer very well-thought-out advice.”
“And you don’t have any for me?”
“Only one piece. Talk to Lachlan.”
“That’s it?”
“It’s enough. Cheerio.”
I slide my phone into my pocket just as the door opens and Erica appears.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Absolutely fine. You look beautiful. Ready to get this show on the road?”
The rest of the day goes by in a flash. Weddings always do. Happy snapshots of beaming brides and grooms, the scent of flowers and a hundred different perfumes, the glint of candlelight on glasses.
The only time the world stops is in the chapel when Erica and Ryan exchange their earnest vows, and for a brief second, I glance up and catch Lachlan looking at me. Everything falls away, the voices and sounds growing distant as we stare at each other. He’s impeccably dressed, but that recalcitrant lock of hair is falling over his forehead and I’m sure he’s remembering our own wedding and Earl’s wind-tunnel flares.
For a moment we smile tentatively, and then I look away quickly. I resolutely avoid catching his gaze again throughout the meal and speeches, even though I know where he is at all times. The laughter and excited chatter would tell me his whereabouts, regardless. Lachlan’s charm makes him the ideal wedding guest—relaxed, funny, and impervious to panic.
I put him out of my thoughts again as I escort the celebrant out of the hotel.
“It’s a shame you can’t stay for the rest of the day, but it was a lovely wedding, sir.” I open the door for him as he pulls on his coat. “Beautiful words.”
“They’re a lovely couple.” He glances back in a haunted manner. “The mother not so much,” he whispers, and we both shudder.
We step outside and I shiver. “Jesus Christ, it’s bloody cold.” I blanch. “Sorry, sir. How rude of me.”
He smiles. “Not at all. He is the boss.” He drags his coat closer around him. “It’s enough to freeze a midge’s bollocks off.”
I blink.
“Are you staying here?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No. I’m off to the airport in a bit.”
He frowns. “Well, I wouldn’t leave it long, lad.”
“I’ve been told that.”
“Whoever said it is right. It’s going to snow and heavily soon,” he says, casting a knowledgeable look at the sky. “You won’t get out of here if that happens.” He nods at the small group of guests exiting the hotel with their suitcases and climbing into a waiting taxi. “They’ve got the right idea, getting out of here while they can.”
“I have to stay for a bit. It’s my job.”
“Are the rest of the party staying?”
“Yes, sir. I think there are fifteen or twenty of them staying tonight and tomorrow. Then the newlyweds are off on honeymoon.”
“Well, I wish you safe travels.”
He climbs into his car. I hold my hand up in farewell as he drives off. His headlights flare bright in the gloomy light, and a gust of wind makes me shiver. I walk quickly back to the hotel. Maybe I should leave now.
The heat inside is welcome after the bitter cold, and I step nearer to the fire in the reception room, looking around contentedly. The whole thing went off without a hitch, regardless of Frances and her glower. The meal was beautiful and now the mood is relaxed and lovely. Conversation fills the room, loud and happy, while DABBA butcher “Mamma Mia”.
I look around almost unconsciously for Lachlan and then frown, a shaft of jealousy spearing through me so hard that it makes me flinch. He’s sitting at one of the tables, talking to a dark-haired man. They’re laughing with their heads close together.
I seem to remember seeing the man sitting next to Lachlan at the church. My stomach curdles as he puts his hand on Lachlan’s arm and throws his head back in laughter. He’s not that funny I think sourly. Someone comes up next to me, and I look around to find a blond man watching me. I’m pretty sure he’s a friend of the groom.
I make myself smile. “Hello.”
He smiles. “I’m Greg. I noticed you earlier.”
“Hard to miss me. I was the stressed wedding planner. My new wrinkles must be visible from space.”
He laughs loudly, and out of the corner of my eye I see Lachlan’s head turn, feel his stare hitting the side of my head like a laser beam.
I make my smile wide and inviting. “I’m Joe. Did you enjoy the wedding?” I say in a flirty voice. “Do tell me which of the bits I organised were good.”
“I think I’m looking at the best part,” he purrs.
“Let’s not discuss my parts. I only just met you, and I’m not that kind of boy.”
“Really?”
I wink. “I lie. I’m totally that kind of boy.”
I offer him another smile that’s weaker than I’d like. It’s actually hard to flirt but there is no way I’m looking like the sad sack here. I mourn the fact that I used to be a champion flirter. Lachlan has actually broken me. Not to mention Lachlan’s supposed to be pretending to be with me, I think crossly. How dare he pretend cheat on me.
The music stops. Ryan is standing, offering his hand to Erica. “May I have this first dance?” he says loudly to a lot of catcalls. Erica dimples prettily, and he leads her to the now empty dance floor.
They stand still for a moment as DABBA plays the first chords of “I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do”. Then my mouth drops open as the happy couple launch into a choreographed extravaganza of a dance. They’re dancing and reeling around each other like something from the first week of Strictly Come Dancing.
“Did you know they were doing this?” Greg asks, his brow furrowed as he watches Ryan lying on the floor while Erica jumps over him.
“No,” I say faintly. “I think I’d have remembered that.” I can’t turn my eyes away from the scene. It’s like they’ve hypnotised me.
I feel a warmth down my side and turn to see Lachlan standing by me.
“What?” I snap.
His eyebrow rises. “Just coming over to be with my hubby.”
“Better late than never,” I say and then immediately want to punch myself at the jealousy in my voice.
I look studiously at the gyrating couple, aware of Lachlan’s gaze hot on my face.
Finally, he leans back against the bar. “Why did we never do a first dance?”
“Dignity.”
He snorts. “No, really. Why?”
I roll my eyes. “Because you have zero dancing ability. I didn’t want my married life to begin with someone calling for an ambulance because they thought you’d electrocuted yourself.”
He laughs but Greg checks next to me.
“You’re married?” he exclaims.
“Very,” Lachlan says, glaring at him. “Passionately,” he adds for emphasis.
I groan as Greg glares at me and moves away.
“Thank you very much, killjoy.”
“That’s Robert Killjoy Silk to you.”