I can hear him splashing about as a fast-forwarded reel of all our interactions with him plays out in my head. All I can recall is him repeatedly trying to convince us that he was in town for work and nothing else. Panic churns in my stomach.
Matteo puts his hand to his forehead. ‘Give me a moment to think of something.’
To give Elvis his credit, this is not his first rodeo. ‘You wanted to seal your love privately. I get it. You’re a hunk of burning love. And she’s a cute patootie. But I’m not sure your guests seem so understanding.’ He indicates to the gondolier to park up as quickly as possible. He jumps up onto the seat and almost hops out of the boat. He flicks through his paperwork as we clamber out after him.
Matteo holds out his hand to help me out of the gondola. ‘I’ll tell them this was all my idea.’ His hand is strong and capable. His kind, dark eyes are swimming with reassurance. His smile is comforting and safe.
I feel an overwhelming rush of love for him. He’s keeping a level head amidst all the madness as usual.
Then Luke, still swimming to the side of the canal, hauls himself out, exhausted. He looks flabbergasted. Which is understandable. I’m sure I would too if I’d just lost a million dollars and my singing partner had refused to believe me on the multiple occasions I’d tried to tell her I was here for work. As the water drips off him, he gives me a filthy look.
I watch him stomping away without looking back. This wedding has clearly done what we needed it to do.
‘Forget him. That’s karmic payback for the way he went on in York.’ Matteo’s face grows serious as he tugs me to him. ‘Do not feel guilty.’
I can hear the thundering of feet over the bridge. I don’t have to turn around to know that it’s everyone charging towards us for answers.
18
Matteo puts a protective arm around me, squeezing my shoulder as the footsteps grow louder.
‘We’ll have to tell them it’s all fake.’ I flap my hands about, my bouquet slapping against my dress.
‘How can we deny we’re married in front of Birdie?’ Matteo reasons smoothly. ‘If we admit it’s all fake, it’ll defeat the purpose.’
‘What will we do?’ A light film of sweat forms on my brow as I take in huge gulps of air.
Matteo takes my hand gently. ‘Breathe. It’ll be okay, I promise. Just play along and we’ll come clean with them later.’
‘I can’t!’ I wail. ‘I can’t hurt my friends’ feelings like this.’
Elvis, looking frantic and desperate to get out of here, starts to tear a strip of paper from his clipboard. ‘Well, have a nice life together.’
The Elvis music is still bellowing out. It all seems so surreal. Such happy, celebratory music against this sea of angry, perplexed faces and yelling from the group as they push through the crowd to get to us.
‘Erm, what are you all doing here?’ I yell over to them.
‘What arewedoing here? What areyoudoing here?’ booms Big Mand, eyeing my wedding dress and flowers as they get closer.
‘It’s not what you think,’ I say to Ged and Liam as they reach me.Oh, God. They have tears in their eyes.
‘It looks a lot like you were getting married to me,’ Ged sniffs. He picks up my hand and spots the lovely, smooth, thick golden wedding band on my finger, reflecting the light.
‘No. No, we’re not,’ I explain, trying to hush him. ‘I mean, we are. But we’re not. This is all a huge misunderstanding.’
Elvis curls his lip, hooks his thumbs into his trouser waist and strikes the pose. ‘If I had a dollar for every time I heard that, lemme tell y’all.’ He lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle before bellowing, ‘Viva Las Vegas, ah-har-ha.’ He holds out the slip of paper. ‘Here you go, son.’
‘Thanks. Is that the receipt?’ Matteo says dazedly, taking it from him just as everyone gathers closely around us.
Elvis laughs. ‘No, son. Why, that’s your wedding certificate.’ His voice really does carry considering the music and the disgruntled chatter from my friends and the screaming bride in the other gondola.
‘Our what now?’ Matteo says, snapping into business mode. His eyes scan the document. He instinctively tries to give it back to him.
Elvis sticks both his hands up. ‘You’ll need to show that if anyone asks if you’re legally wed.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Lordy, you young folks and your internet. It’s like you don’t know what to do with a piece of paper. Don’t worry, we’ll email a copy to you.’
‘But we opted for the…’ I hiss from the side of my mouth, trying to keep my voice from carrying over to Birdie, who is hovering at the back of the group. ‘For thepretendrenewal of the vows option. Thenon-legalversion.’
Elvis flicks through his clipboard.
