Chapter 1
Charlie
It’s been five minutes since Nate last asked me the time. And as amusing as it was the first couple of times, my patience is beginning to wear a little thin. I’m more than a cynic when it comes to weddings, and if it weren’t for me being his Best Mate, I wouldn’t have agreed to be here now.
Shaking my head, I wonder if I should’ve just let him have that second shot of whiskey before we left my place. But the talk Felicity gave me last night was all the deterrent I needed. I don’t need to feel the wrath of his soon-to-be wife.
I breathe in the fresh flowers and scan the violet wisteria which wraps around the front of the house. A choir of birds are singing in the surrounding trees. It’s as if they know a secret about life the rest of us don’t. It’s not hard to see why they chose to have the wedding here. Their home is the perfect backdrop, and if it were anyone else getting married, I’d say disgustingly so.
A clack against concrete draws my attention to Nate’s nan, Evie. She gingerly navigates the steps with each tap of her walking stick. In three strides, I’m beside her, offering her my arm.
“Charlie, my boy,” she says, slurring her words. Her speech isn’t what it once was—not since her stroke.
She takes my arm, and I cover her hand with mine. Pulling her into me, I keep her steady as we descend the last few steps. Her skin—usually free of cosmetics—has been made up for the ceremony, resembling more of the refined woman I remember from growing up.
“Nan, what are you doing over here?” Nate asks, concern in his voice.
“Oh, hush,” she says.
Releasing my arm, she cups Nate’s cheek. Her hand visibly trembles. “I wanted to see how you’re holding up?” she asks, amusement in her tone.
“I’m shitting myself,” he replies.
I snort out a laugh at Evie’s expression and cough to cover it up.
“Nervous… I’m just nervous.”
He gives me the side-eye, and I turn, watching as flashes of colour begin to flow over the freshly cut lawn. Other groomsmen usher the newly arrived guests to a lush seating area in front of the gazebo. I glance at my watch—we still have some time before this shindig gets started.
“No need,” Evie answers, waving Nate’s concern away. “This was always meant to be, and I’m proud of the man you’ve become,” she says, her voice breaking.
I swallow hard, wanting to duck away, but it’s hard not to watch their exchange when Nate places his hands on her frail shoulders.
“You always were biased,” he replies, trying to keep his voice even.
“Maybe a little,” she responds.
“Do you want to go sit down? Where’s Ana?” he asks, his eyes drifting over the growing sea of guests.
I follow the waves of crisp pressed suits and perfectly placed hair, searching for Ana, Felicity’s nan and Evie’s best friend since World War Two. I spot her among the throng—her silver, elegant hair standing out against the masses. My feet crunch over the gravel as I cross to intercept her stride and offer her my hand. She smiles, taking it gratefully. Ana refuses to use a walking aid.
I can’t imagine what it must be like to know your body is at war with your mind and soul. Only now do I acknowledge their mortality, being so far away from my own nan and knowing she’s not as young as she used to be. The thought causes the hairs on the back of my neck to bristle.
“You look lovely,” I say to her and mean it.
She shakes her head softly and smiles, her eyes sparkling with the glint of her youth.
“Rumour had it, I was quite the catch in my younger years,” she says, smiling.
I glance down at her hand wrapped around my forearm and I’m drawn to her slightly off-kilter fingers. Her pinkie and the one beside it are scarred and crooked. I’ve always wondered what happened to them.
“I don’t doubt that,” I say, then glance back to her face with a wink.
She spends more of her time in England than in France now. But she refuses to give up the home in France and move back permanently. It holds too many memories of her and her late husband. When she talks about him, you’d think he was still here.
A tug on my sleeve halts our stroll. I turn, relieved to see Nate and Evie. “Found her,” I say, patting Ana’s arm.
There’s a fading concern in Nate’s eyes. The last thing the groom should be worried about on his wedding day is looking after others. I offer my other arm to Evie. “Can I escort you young ladies to your seats?”
They agree, and we set off through the sea of guests once more, leaving Nate to worry about other things…like Flick leaving him at the altar. I chuckle to myself when we find their front and centre seats. Felicity would never, but it’s amusing to watch a man squirm.
It’s already filling out with family and friends. Although they didn’t want a big wedding, I’d say the number of guests is still more significant than they intended. Rows of rustic white wooden chairs with satin soft seat covers line either side of the ivory-satin aisle.
I excuse myself once Ana and Evie are settled and make my way back to join Nate. But a boisterous yell stops me. I know that yell.
“Charlie, my man!”
I smile, turning to Simon. “Damn good to see you,” I say, holding out my hand.
“We were worried we wouldn’t make it in time,” he says, peering over his shoulder as his boyfriend strolls our way.
“Ryan, glad you both made it.” I shake his hand.
“Barely,” he replies, cocking a brow to Simon.
Ryan bumps Simon’s shoulder. Ryan is a big, robust guy—the opposite of Simon, who is tall and slender. He smiles and winks in response.
“I had a wardrobe mishap, and we missed our flight,” Simon says, casting his eyes heavenward.
I didn’t doubt it. Simon would have moved mountains to be here today. He might be living in New York now, but he’s always been tight with Flick and Sophie; thick as thieves, those three.
“I’d love to catch up, but I need to get back to the groom.”
Simon waves his hand in front of me to shoo me off. “Go, we’ll catch up after the ceremony. And if you’re really lucky, I’ll even save you a dance.”
I let out a laugh and wink. “You wish, man.”
His laugh echoes behind me as I walk away.
I return to Nate, who hasn’t strayed from where I left him. I grab his shoulder and give it a firm squeeze. “Dude, would you chill out already?”
His eyes cut to mine as he bounces on the balls of his feet.
Shaking my head, I smile. “You’re comical right now, you know that? You’ve got this…you asked her, she said yes,” I say with a laugh.
“Easy for you to say, it’s not like your heart is trying to claw its way out of your chest,” he replies dryly. He swallows, but it appears painful.
I want to give him shit, but honestly, he’s on the verge of freaking out as it is.
“Everything will be fine,” I say, flicking my wrist. “It’s almost time.” I slap him on the shoulder and glance around. The majority of the guests are now seated.
That’s when I see her.
Momentarily, the air gets caught in my throat, and I forget how to breathe. It’s the same reaction I had the first time I saw her. And every time since.