‘Will do. Listen, Dolly, I can’t imagine how things are going to go for you but you know we’re always by your side, right?’
I bite my lip to stop myself from crying, which makes me think of how often I’d see Carys do the same. ‘I love you.’
‘Love you too. Go get your girl!’
‘Have the best wedding ever. Send me all the pics. And most of all, make sure you win this.’
Whit cackles. ‘Bridget and Jackson are toast, babe.’
Chapter Thirty-EightCarys
The next hour blurs in anxiety and excitement. Butterflies, not fireworks. More appropriate for a wedding, I suppose. My sisters leave me eventually to go sit in the rows of chairs, a kiss on each cheek as they leave.
I take one look at myself in the mirror and see a glimpse of a new me. A bit of the old me too. I vow to unpick this mask. I have to hope that Patrick is excited for an evolving Carys and will go on that journey with me.
If not, well, maybe I need to choose myself for once.
It’s a weird thing to think when I’m standing outside the grand doors waiting to walk down the aisle to where Patrick will, hopefully, be waiting for me. But it’s a strange comfort. I can choose me, and him.
The music swells – the traditional bridal march – and the doors open. The room is bright white at first, revealing marble columns, white wooden chairs with green ribbons on the back, a path of greenery and petals leading all the way up to where Patrick stands, a matching green sprig in his buttonhole.
He looks so beautiful.
I walk slowly, concentrating on the timing as the cameras watch me, recording this moment forever. How lucky we are that we will always be able to look back on this? My uni friends sit with their husbands behind my family, and all of Patrick’sfamily including his siblings and their partners are here too. That fills me with hope; they might not approve of this, but they’re here. I spy a couple that I don’t immediately recognise until he turns. Victor. My driver from what feels like years ago, and his wife Shreya, who beams at me. I can’t believe they came.
So many people who care about me are here.
This is the beginning of the rest of my life.
Patrick takes my hand as I reach him, and we stand facing each other. I take one last look at his face as an unmarried man, as though it might morph when the rings are put on. His lovely deep brown eyes, and those crow’s feet that I will get to watch deepen over time. His lopsided smile and the lines. Yes, I could fall in love with him. It will come in time, I know it.
‘Welcome, loved ones. We are gathered here today to join Carys Cadwallader and Patrick Stringer in holy matrimony,’ the officiant, a nice lady called Jane, begins.
The show stipulates that we have to stick to theWedded Blissscript, so she then adds, ‘Our lovely couple have gone through a fantastic experiment to find wedded bliss, and we hope that today will be just the beginning of that.’
His smile broadens and so does mine, and soon we are giggling together.
‘Now, before we continue, I need to ask if there are any witnesses among us who have an objection to this union?’
There’s a heady silence and I hold my breath, wondering if, just if.
‘Excellent,’ says Jane, when no one speaks. ‘I always hate that part.’
Suddenly the huge wooden door slams open, and there, panting and striding up the aisle, is a willowy woman I’ve never seen before, but I know exactly who she is.
‘Peony?’ gasps Patrick.
‘I’m not too late, am I?’ Peony asks, her voice clipped anddesperate. Her curly hair is perfectly styled, and she wears a dark green suit that I’m pretty sure was tailor made for her. I am awestruck by her Keira Knightley-esque beauty. No wonder Patrick was so in love with her. I think I might be a bit in love with her right now.
‘I thought you were in Kenya?’ Patrick asks, which surprises me because he’s never mentioned she was working abroad.
In fact, he’s never really mentioned her to me at all.
‘I came back when I heard. I’m so sorry to do this,’ she directs that last part to me and for some reason I say, ‘Oh, it’s alright.’
This seems to confuse everyone standing at the altar, including Jane.
‘But I couldn’t wait,’ Peony continues, returning to the matter at hand. ‘I couldn’t leave it. I had to come tell you I love you.’
