‘Yeah, well, I thought this one might be more appropriate,’ I reply, like it’s not a big deal.
‘The Lana I met didn’t care what anyone thought,’ he reminds me.
‘The Ethan I met pretended he didn’t have a job,’ I reply.
‘That’s not true,’ he says with a grin. ‘You never asked.’
‘So, Redflags is your app?’ I confirm.
‘Yeah,’ he replies.
‘You know, I used it to try and find a bad date for the wedding,’ I tell him. His eyebrows shoot up. ‘It’s very good at identifying the freaks.’
‘That’s not its intended use,’ he reminds me with a smile. ‘But I’m glad that it works. And I’m definitely going to try to integrate your ideas – your extra safety measures. I think they would be a really good addition.’
‘Oh, God, you don’t have to do that,’ I reply. ‘I know they’re dumb.’
‘They’re not dumb ideas at all,’ he insists. ‘People don’t appreciate how hard it is to keep safe. I want to do my bit to help.’
‘You’re a regular hero, aren’t you?’ I say with a smile. ‘Which brings me on to my next question. The bench. How did you fix it?’
‘Well, I wish I could say that I did it with brawn and manliness,’ he begins. ‘But I didn’t. I went around all the local bars until I found a carpenter, with a romantic streak, who wasn’t too drunk. That said, he definitely did it for money, not love. There’s some sort of old-fashioned technique, of putting them together – he tried to explain but I was just trying to get him in and out as quickly as possible.’
‘So, we just need to hope no one has any reason to check the CCTV outside,’ I say with a grin.
I feel like we might have actually got away with this one.
‘They have no reason to check it,’ he says. ‘It will probably get overwritten, eventually, but if not, well, I’m sure we’ll come up with something between us.’
I can’t help myself any longer. I lean in to kiss him, to seal the deal, but he subtly pulls away from me.
‘I think it’s probably safest we don’t do that here,’ he tells me with a smile. ‘You never know with us – there’s still time to ruin the wedding.’
‘Oh, okay,’ I say, trying to hide how devastated I am. Have I completely misread this?
‘Instead, how about you go upstairs, you change into the dress you want to wear, and then you meet me down on the beach,’ he suggests.
A smile spreads across my face.
‘Okay, sure,’ I say, trying to hide how giddy I am, but probably doing a terrible job.
I duck out, as instructed, heading up to our room where I step out of my sophisticated dress and into my trashy one – I mean, I think both are lovely, but you take my point. I check my make-up is perfect (or close, after a warm day), spritz myself with perfume, and then make my way back outside.
I pass the marquee, heading down the garden, and out on to the sand. I’ve no sooner taken my shoes off, to feel the sand between my toes, when I spot him.
The beach is quiet, between the buzz of the party and the roar of the sea. There’s just Ethan, standing there, next to a pop-up table for two. It’s covered with candles and there’s a white box in the centre.
‘What’s all this?’ I ask him.
He starts singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me, as he lifts up the white box to reveal the most delicious-looking chocolate cake.
‘Happy birthday,’ he says. ‘Happythirtiethbirthday. I got you a cake.’
I place a hand over my mouth.
‘Did you think I was going to let it go by unacknowledged?’ he says.
‘Everyone else was,’ I reply. ‘Thank you so, so much. This is so sweet. I don’t think I could have asked for anything more perfect.’
