Page 128 of I’m Dreaming of a New York Christmas

‘Happy wedding day!’ Mum and Anneka screamed the greeting so loudly that I had to hold the receiver away from my ear.

Wedding day.

Those two words still sent an involuntary shiver around my body. But here I was: almost two years to the day that I’d been due to marry Will, about to marry a man I didn’t even know existed back then. Talk about my life’s most unexpected detour.

Ethan and I locked eyes and took a synchronised deep breath before I replied. ‘Thank you! I’ll buzz you up.’

As the footsteps on the stairs got louder, Ethan’s lips brushed the side of my head gently before a relentless knock on the flat’s door. I swung it open, to be greeted by a small bunch of flowers being thrust into my face.

‘We got you a bridal bouquet!’ Anneka squealed.

I took the flowers and stepped aside, letting Anneka and Mum through. Mum dashed straight to the bathroom after a brief wave hello, while Anneka greeted Ethan with a hug that looked more like a headlock.

‘Anneka, today is supposed to be low-key!’ I said through a smile, taking a deep sniff of the understated posy of wildflowers that had a few sprigs of dried lavender dotted here and there. The scent, and the aesthetic, were perfect.

‘Yes, yes, but we knew you wouldn’t have thought to pick up a bouquet, so we swung by a florist on our way here. It was a total bargain because we told her that—’

‘Please, I don’t want to know. But thank you, I love it. Where’s Marcie?’

Anneka and Marcie had been pretty much inseparable since we’d returned from New York, and I’d fully expected her to join us upstairs for our casual pre-ceremony drinks.

‘Don’t kill me but she’s already at the venue… setting up her photography kit.’

‘Anneka! I said we didn’t need anything formal like that.’

‘I know, but if she didn’t take the photos, I knew I’d end up doing it and I… kinda want to be in them?’

‘Oh! Yes, that makes sense, actually. Thanks for sorting that out.’

‘No problem. Oh, and Ethan, we got you a matching buttonhole as well.’ Anneka tucked a small sprig of dried lavender into the lapel of his sage-green suit jacket that he’d slipped on over his soft, white linen shirt.

As for my own outfit, I was wearing an ice-blue jumpsuit with a silver lining, which I’d bought in New York a couple of months ago on my latest trip to see Ethan. This time, though, my sparkly Converse shoes were padded with memory foam insoles so I wouldn’t have to wander the streets of Bath shoeless after our post-registry office ceremony pub lunch. By which point, I would be Ethan’s wife! And he would be my husband! Wild.

Like everything in our relationship, getting engaged had been a surprise turning on our adventurous road trip of a relationship – from my point of view, at least. Ethan had asked me to marry him in Greenwich Village’s Corner Brew last December – he’d even roped in Cory to cordon off our favourite table next to the window as part of the plan. When he got down on one knee and proposed with an almond croissant in lieu of a ring, I hadn’t even needed to think about my answer. But even though his proposal had been deeply romantic, getting married was as much of a practical move as a passionate one.

I’d been spending more and more time Stateside, in no small part thanks to a flurry of speechwriting projects that Elle had sent my way from her bursting book of contacts. And, thanks to Anneka’s agent’s seemingly miraculous hypnotherapy skills, Ethan had been spending a fair amount of time in the UK, too, working from his main client’s office in London during the week every couple of months, and hanging out with me in Bath on weekends. This arrangement had been helped massively by the fact that Tabbi had yet to return from her Thailand travels, having fallen for a local tour guide the December I’d met Ethan. Two years ago I would have rolled my eyes at such a notion, but now I knew that anything was possible – especially when it came to love.

Ethan and I had said the ‘L’ word to each other on the first of January, the morning after our Bath Abbey reunion. But after a year or so of long-distance logistics – and a semi-permanent speechwriting opportunity that had come up with a progressive and exciting US politician on the East Coast – we’d started talking about the possibility of me moving over there. Not necessarily forever, but for now. And that had evolved into a conversation about Jason – who Marcie was happy to adopt – and visas and… well, here we were, about to make it official.

Mum emerged from the bathroom, readjusting the shoulder pads of her bright purple trouser suit. She’d had confirmation just last week that she was still cancer-free, and she’d celebrated her latest results by chopping all her hair off into the shortest possible – and naturally bright white – pixie crop. She looked more striking – and more herself – than ever. Anneka looked stunning, too, in a coral-coloured bodycon dress.

‘My lovely girls,’ Mum said, looking between Anneka and me with glossy eyes.

‘I’m… just gonna finish getting ready in the bedroom,’ Ethan said, sensing we needed some family time.

Once he’d closed the door, Mum outstretched her arms and me and Anneka folded ourselves into them. We stayed like that for a while, saying nothing, just letting the feelings flow. Anneka eventually broke the spell. ‘Oh! I nearly forgot. I got you a little something new, Flo.’

She handed me a small jewellery box from her handbag, which I popped open. Inside was a silver charm to add to the growing collection on my wrist – Anneka’s silversmithery hyperfixation was still going strong, and she’d even made our wedding rings for today. I extracted the charm from its cushioned nest – it was a perfect miniature replica of the Washington Square Arch.

‘It’s amazing,’ I whispered, inspecting it from every angle. I looked up at her. ‘You’re amazing.’

‘I know,’ she replied nonchalantly, with a wink.

‘We’re all amazing!’ Mum chimed in. ‘The Bells of… Bath!’

‘Flora’s about to be the wife of Bath,’ Anneka said, causing Mum to collapse onto the sofa in a fit of giggles.

‘Ethan!’ I called in the general direction of the bedroom.