‘All of it really. I knew… well, not that you weren’t happy, but that there was a part of you I couldn’t access, perhaps.’
I squirm a little. ‘I didn’t realise it was so obvious.’
‘I think only under those circumstances, the pressure cooker of it all. I’m sorry that you couldn’t—’
‘No, Patrick,’ I insist. ‘It’s not your fault. We’re just two strangers who thought they fell in love with each other.’
His mouth flattens. ‘I think you’re right. Despite all that, I loved getting to know you, Carys.’
‘Patrick?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s not get married. I adore you, I really do. And I know that I could fall in love with you if we stayed together.’
‘I feel that too.’
‘But we both have people here who we arealreadyin love with, people we want to spend our lives with.’ Patrick and I turn to where Peony and Dolly wait anxiously. ‘I know she’s really important to you.’
‘She is,’ he whispers. ‘And I screwed it up so awfully. That’s why I came on the show, to try again, I suppose. I’m so sorry I wasn’t honest about that.’
‘We both had a lot going on. You got your do-over. Do you want to use our wedding? It’s going spare.’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘Youshould.’
‘I haven’t asked her.’
‘So ask her!’ shouts Dolly, her hands cupped around her mouth.
We both look over, and Peony doesn’t blush, doesn’t hide away. She waits for him to notice that that’s what she’s here for.
‘I should ask her,’ he whispers, not taking his eyes from her for a second.
I pat him on the shoulder and slip off my engagement ring. I place it in the palm of his hand. ‘Go ask her.’
He does. Patrick gets down on one knee holding out the ring to her, and I think about that moment in the city farm where he did the same to me.
She accepts, because of course she does. The ring even fits her, like it’s magic.
I realise, as he stands and they kiss, that their suits match. Like it was supposed to be this way all along.
Needless to say, the rest of the Stringer family look particularly pleased that he is marrying Peony and not me. We all trudge back to the venue, where our collective guests sit in their pews as before.
This time, I take position as Patrick’s best woman.
It’s not strange; it feels right. We barely notice the cameras as they share vows they make up on the spot, but feel so real.
In the front row, next to my family, Warren, Dolly’s mum, Cousin Jas and Auntie Carol, sits Dolly.
My Dolly.
‘And I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride,’ Jane declares, still rather confused about the whole affair, and everyone cheers when they kiss.
‘Now,’ Peony says to me, as they break apart, ‘your turn.’
‘Oh no,’ mutters Jane. ‘There’s protocol. You’ve already had one wedding.’
