That’s my cue to relax and enjoy what I’m doing. There’s a short ceremony, where Nate and Becky look every bit as happy and fabulous as they deserve. Unsurprisingly their promises are full of watery jokes about falling off surfboards. Then we brave the wind and snatch a few shots of everyone with the bay in the background.
As I shout at Rory across the bonnet of the beer-mobile as we run back to the car, my leopard jacket is almost getting carried out to sea and taking me with it. ‘I’m truly embracing the moment here, Rory Waves.’ And bizarre as it seems, I’m almost sad that I’m doing all these moves for the last time.
‘Me too.’ He’s laughing as he yells back at me.
Somewhere down the line, he must have applied a double dose of Diesel when he was back at Home Brew Cottage, because for a second all I want to do is see how it feels to rub his face. But I slap myself back into line. I crush my fingers so hard under my legs that by the time we get back to Daisy Hill Farm, they’re numb. But at least I reckon I’m back in control again.
In tune with the surfie aura, the rest of the day is pretty much a free-for-all party, but Rory and I still work our socks off. After hours of dodging shadows, I’m pretty confident that Luc’s a no- show. It’s the kind of anticlimax that undoes the knots in my stomach one by one, then leaves me feeling like a popped balloon. By half past nine, I’m also confident I’ve caught every move a surfer can make to every Beach Boys track and Christmas song in the world.
When Rory comes over, I wave my camera at him. ‘I think that’s a wrap. Everything okay at the cottage?’ While I was capturing the disco jive, he’s been back home.
For a second he looks doubtful. ‘Erin could be better.’ He phones the hospital every evening, but he usually spares us the details, then changes the subject, exactly as he’s doing now. His eyes light up again. ‘They’ve just cranked up the snow machine outside. It might be worth a last look.’ This is how he’s been all day. Steering me round to the action.
I pick up my coat and we weave our way through the bales towards the door. ‘A few quick shots and then we’ll go.’ Despite the lure of snow against starlight, I’m factoring in my lift into town. ‘You need to get back to take over from Immie at the cottage.’ At this rate it’ll be after midnight.
Half an hour later, I’ve got more blizzard-in-the-dark shots than any bride could wish for. We’re working our way back into the barn when it suddenly hits me. ‘Rory, why are you wearing my hat?’
He’s grinning down as he holds the door open for me. ‘No,you’rewearing your hat.Thisis a matching one I bought yesterday.’ He has the decency to look slightly shamefaced.
I pat my head and, sure enough, my hat’s there. ‘Thanks for pointing that out.’ As I notice his guilty shadow flashing across his face, I know I need to push more. ‘And why would you do that?’
His smile is unrepentant. ‘Corporate identity?’ He knows I’m not buying that one. ‘Okay, I give in. There’s no better wind-up for Luc than us wearing matching hats.’
‘What?’ My voice is deep with horror. I can’t decide if I should be appalled, orveryappalled.
He’s looking exceptionally proud of himself. ‘Distracting the opposition’s a well-known sporting tactic. Seriously, you need all the help you can get with prick-head. You’re dealing with someone who doesn’t necessarily have your best interests at heart.’
I’m within a whisker of saying, ‘And you do?’ But I’m really not going to go there.
His eyebrows knit into a frown. ‘Did you once say he looked like the guy out ofWhat Happens in Vegas? It’s just that I met a dead ringer for Ashton Kutcher going into the toilets earlier. Complete with American twang too. There can’t be many of those in Rose Hill.’
The rope in my stomach snaps tight as a tourniquet. ‘You mean he’s here and you didn’t tell me?’ My voice is a squeak because I’m so indignant.
Rory’s unconcerned. ‘It’s fine, I’m telling you now, aren’t I?’
I’m about to ask what the hell he thinks he’s playing at, when I feel a tap on my shoulder on the opposite side from Rory. At first I ignore it, thinking it’s Rory messing about. The fourth time it happens, I turn around and the face I’m staring into is familiar and strange all at the same time. I’d know that solid jaw and those deep-set eyes anywhere. It’s the smooth-shaven chin that’s throwing me.
‘Luc? You came after all?’ My throat’s so dry, it comes out as a croak. If I’m trying to sound attractive and alluring, I stuffed that up straight away. As for my insides, they seem to have disappeared entirely.
He slicks back his hair and gives a sigh. ‘I’ve traipsed the length and breadth of Cornwall looking for a beach wedding.’ The smart New Yorker look he’s rocking couldn’t be further from the laid-back surfer dudes around him. ‘Why the hell didn’t anyone tell me it had turned into a barn dance?’
‘Oh no.’ I’m scouring his face to find the humorous twinkle. But he must be hiding it.
‘So, great to see you, how have you been?’ He’s still just as tall and impressive. If we’re purely talking ‘wow factors’, he’s still seriously out of my league.
‘Well, it’s good that you made it eventually.’ I’m making an effort to sparkle here, even if he’s veered off down the jetlagged and grumpy road and can’t get back. Although, unlike Rory – not that I’m comparing – he looks even better when he’s moody. ‘As for me, I’ve been here all day taking photos. Becky just said you were the one who suggested me to her. So it’s actually all thanks to you I’ve ended up doing a lot of weddings here.’
‘Yeah.’ He pulls a face. ‘I saw you ordering people around outside before like a pro. When didyoulearn to dothat?’
I’m liking how intrigued he sounds, so I make a huge effort to look diffident. ‘Oh, you know, it’s been a busy year.’ Or more precisely, eleven months of same old, same old, followed by a crazy three-week learning curve.
As he frowns it only accentuates his strong eyebrows. ‘Why the hell are you wearing the Smurf hat?’
This one’s easy to answer. ‘To keep my earies warm.’ Me stealing Gracie’s expression was a bad slip. I remember too late that kiddie talk’s one of Luc’s pet hates. As I see his eyes cloud I decide to push on with introductions. ‘So, Rory, this is Luc.’ I skip the ex bit, because we all know. ‘And, Luc, this is Rory, my fabulous assistant.’ I do a little jazz hands wave and laugh to lighten it.
Whenever I’ve played out this moment in my head – approximately a thousand times a night at a guess – mostly Luc’s ignored me. A couple of teensy times I allowed myself to imagine him flinging his arms around me and spinning me around so fast my legs whooshed out. Slightly awkward tension, like now, never crossed my mind.
Luc blinks as he sizes Rory up. ‘Hello, Rory. What is this, Smurf Central?’ His drawl is every bit as Yankee as Rory said, and makes him seem extra-distant.
