Page 97 of I’m Dreaming of a New York Christmas

We made the exchange, and Anneka squealed. ‘Flora Bell, your New York makeover is officially complete!’

‘Oh, you went there, did you?’ I said, with a smirk.

‘I did! Go on, go! You look amazing!’

I leaned in to give Mum a quick hug, but she shooed me off with one hand. I flagged down a cab and gave the driver the address of the venue – a brewery in the Gowanus area of Brooklyn. According to the loose timetable Ethan had relayed to me, the ceremony should have just about finished by now. Dinner was due to start at seven thirty, with speeches an hour after that.

Ethan was waiting for me outside the brewery when the cab pulled up. He looked like the frontman of a New York indie band at an awards ceremony in a slim-fitting burgundy suit and a light grey shirt, open at the neck. A miniature bunch of seasonal herbs tied with twine was pinned to his lapel, which I sniffed as soon as he pulled me towards him.

‘Hello,’ I said, once the scent of rosemary had faded.

‘Hello. You look extremely pretty.’

‘As do you.’

We kissed, and as we parted I touched his hair, which was brushed away from his face. It was slightly hard to the touch.

‘Hair wax?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, I was meant to get it cut but ran out of time. Figured I probably shouldn’t hide behind my hair tonight.’

‘I love hiding behind your hair,’ I murmured into his ear as he took my hand and guided me into the venue, rubbing my thumb with his.

The interior of the brewery was low-key but atmospheric. It was smaller than I was expecting, but it had a painfully cool ambience, which was reflected by the general demographic of wedding guests, most of whom appeared to be extremely beautiful New York people.

Ethan squeezed my hand as he walked me to the bar.

‘I’m nervous,’ I said.

‘I know. But I’ve got you. Drink? They do a mean pilsner.’

‘Sounds great.’

While Ethan ordered our beers, I took the opportunity to inspect my appearance in selfie mode. Anneka’s make-up was still perfectly intact thanks to her miraculous setting spray, though I took a mental note to reapply some lip gloss the next time I went to the loo.

‘How was the ceremony?’ I asked, taking a sip of my drink, which fast turned into a needy gulp.

‘Surprisingly emo. I think that might have been the first time I’ve seen my brother cry.’

‘Has he ever seen you cry?’

‘Yeah, fucking loads, haha.’

Had I ever seen Anneka cry? She’d looked like she’d come close to tears during our argument, but I’d never seen her as anything other than my outgoing, optimistic big sister who could handle anything that life threw at her. Yet the nuggets of vulnerability she’d begun to show me over the last few days were beginning to make me re-evaluate everything I thought I knew about her.

Once I’d hung my coat on a hook, we took our beers and made our way to the edge of the nearest group of people. I looked around, confused; apart from a few booths in the bar area, there didn’t appear to be any tables where we’d be sitting for the meal.

‘I thought you said there was a table plan?’

‘Oh, there is. They’re just setting up the dining space now the ceremony’s over. Wait ’til you see it.’

Huh, perhaps there was another room upstairs, although I couldn’t spot a staircase.

Ethan placed a hand in the small of my back, perilously close to my bum, and guided me into the gaggle of beautiful people. A man turned to face us just as we approached, who looked remarkably like Ethan, albeit with shorter, darker hair. It was quite obviously the groom – Ethan’s brother, Rickrichard.

Whatever you do, don’t call him that by mistake.

‘Hey, you must be Flora!’