I drag my gaze away, slow and deliberate, as if I hadn’t just read him like a user manual.
Weddings are chemical warfare.They fill the air with commitment fumes, delusional hope and the sweet scent of romance.I’m immune of course.And when I walk past Luke, it’ll be with perfect posture, a steady heartbeat and the quiet satisfaction of knowing that he’s already losing.
I reach the end of the aisle and Abbey meets me at the front.The crowd shifts, then goes silent.
Ella steps out.
It’s showtime.
SEVEN
The music starts at the outdoor reception down the road afterwards, and everything becomes magical.Perhaps it’s the fairy lights in the trees overhead, or the lanterns gleaming like low-hanging stars, or the combination of rosé and humidity.
Ella looks happier than I’ve ever seen her – completely locked in on Darcy, the two of them spinning across the lawn and forgetting anyone else is here.The crowd claps, someone whoops.Champagne flutes clink around us, laughter spills from the sidelines, and the whole thing is disgustingly beautiful.
‘Here’s to legally binding romance,’ I murmur, tapping my glass against Abbey’s.
‘And surprise pregnancies,’ she adds and grins, mouth full of some obscenely fancy cracker.‘So, apparently we’re going on a helicopter to some watering hole tomorrow.’
I blink.‘Apparently?’
Abbey grabs two more crackers from a passing waiter.‘One of the groomsmen told me.Dax?Dex?Derek?Honestly, he could’ve said his name was Dingo and I’d still call dibs.’
I sip my rosé and follow her gaze.The guy is the same one whocame looking for Luke this morning – tall, curly haired and one hundred per cent beef fed.‘Well.That’s illegal levels of attractive.’
‘Right?’Abbey rubs her hands together as if she were a villain.
‘He’s all yours,’ I say, tipping my glass in solidarity.‘I’ll be over here, flirting with the catering table.’Which is, frankly, excellent.The meat is … meaty.I’m choosing not to think about how recently it might have had a name, but either way it’s delicious.I load my plate with salad to convince myself I’m making healthy choices, but it’s too late.The wine has claimed me and I’m two more mouthfuls away from a cheddar-induced coma.
By the time the bonfire kicks in, the party has hit that floaty stage.Clusters of couches contain people who are shaking with the sort of laughter that only happens when you’re full of carbs and nostalgia.Guests wander off into shadowy corners for intimate conversations or wedding-adjacent make-outs.
I find myself stuck in a conversation about cattle with a woman named – I think – Lauren.I nod along, pretending to understand what ‘low-stress stock-handling’ means while drafting an exit strategy.Abbey catches my eye from across the lawn, mid-giggle with her victim, Dax/Dex/Derek.She lifts her glass; I raise mine back and smile.
It’s at that exact moment I realise I need to pee.I look around, then frown and lean towards Lauren.‘Sorry – do you know where the nearest bathroom is?’
She brightens.‘Oh, yep!It’s back down the road at the house, maybe a five-minute walk?’
Five.Minutes.
My jaw goes slack and Lauren grimaces in sympathy.‘I know, not ideal.Unless you’re game for the bush?’
Absolutely not.
The stars overhead are offensively bright, and, away from the glow of the reception, the rest of the farm is blanketed in the kind ofdarkness where every snap of a twig is straight out of a horror film soundtrack.
I paste on a smile.‘I might just … walk.’
She nods knowingly, as if she’s already clocked that I flinch at loud birds and that my caramel highlights were never meant to survive this place.
So, I set off, bladder screaming, heart mildly panicked.The music fades behind me, replaced by cicadas and a breeze that smells of grass and gum leaves.And honestly?I’m kind of proud.I’m five rosés deep, halfway to the toilet and not entirely convinced I won’t get eaten by a wombat.
Shit.
I clamp my thighs together, but it’s already too late.I’m not going to make it.
I glance around.No people.No buildings.Only stars and the occasional weird bush noise that might be a frog or karma.I am alone, abandoned by plumbing and by God.
Well.This is how I go.
