We both ended up standing, being hugged by my siblings and cousins. Seph and Shay had gone into some rugby chant and some strange version of the Haka, but they were being ignored.
“Where are you getting married?” Marie managed to hush everyone. “I should probably say this is very sudden and don’t you need more time to plan, but I’m just – stunned and happy… so where?”
I glanced at Wren and inhaled. We’d discussed how we announced this, knowing that our family – mine at least – might be slightly annoyed that we’d already done the deed.
The truth, we’d agreed, was best.
“We got married in Marrakesh and before you shout, it was for us and it shouldn’t be a surprise, but we wanted something at home too. So we’re having a ceremony at the farm.”
We’d arranged it a couple of months ago, back when we were sorting the documents for getting married in Marrakesh. As much as we’d have rather been spontaneous, the details didn’t allow for that.
“You’re already married?” Claire stood up, untangling herself from Killian. “You’re married?” She looked at Wren and then burst into tears, grabbing hold of Wren and hugging her so tightly I wondered whether she’d been taken over by a cobra.
“We’re married.”
The announcement caused another bout of chaos.
Well, fuck me.
I need photos!
Trust bloody Callum!
What about a stag do?
What did you wear?
I have another daughter!
That’s a cost-effective way to do it.
Was a donkey the best man?
No, Seph wasn’t there.
They continued. I caught most of them, and then I caught Seph’s eye. He held out the glass of champagne in a cheers gesture and gave me his quiet smile, the one that said so much more than the big beams he gave.
I headed over to him and rather than the tap on the back that would’ve been normal, I grasped him in a huge hug.
“Be my best man.”
“Shit, Cal, I’ve just spilt my champagne.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“Fuck. I’ve been planning this speech for ten years, so of course it’s a yes. I’m so fucking happy for you. Wren’s perfect.”
“She is.” I looked over to her, being surrounded by my sisters and sisters-in-law, or future ones, talking animatedly about how it was when we were married on a beach, with Laurent as our witness, dressed in beach wear underneath an African sun that seemed to always shine.
We’d hadn’t gone back to the riad that night, staying instead in a tent near the beach and we were lost in each other. Nothing had existed except us and the stars and sounds of nature in the background.
We weren’t protected. We both knew she could get pregnant and that was how it would be, taking that chance without planning for any particular outcome.
“I’m so fucking happy for you, Cal. This is everything.”
I held my brother, the little brother who was now taller and bigger than me. He’d been my wingman; I’d been his. We’d lived through each other’s crises and dramas, and now I felt that a chasm had shattered between us, only a bridge had been formed at the same time.
“You’ll have this, you know. This will be you soon.” I muttered the words into his ear, knowing that Max and Jackson, at least, would’ve caught the hug that was lasting longer than either of them probably did in bed.
