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Ryan tightens his grip on the metal frame while I fasten another spray of foliage to the curve above him. We’ve been working our way up the arch, and my shoulders are starting to ache from all the reaching.

I tuck the end of the tie out of sight, then climb down the stepladder to check how it’s looking.

Sunshine warms the back of my neck. Beyond the arch, Loch Lomond stretches silver-blue beneath the mountains. The hotel’s lawns slope almost to the water. Behind us, the old grey-stone mansion stands grandly, all tall windows, stone steps, and an imposing front entrance. The newer hotel wings and spa are tucked away to one side, with wooded hills rising behind them.

It’s a beautiful place to be married.

Amazingly, everything is going to plan—which, a couple of hours ago, is not something I thought I’d be saying. When I passed Lizzie her bouquet, she pressed a hand to her mouth and kept saying it was exactly what she’d wanted. Remembering her face gives me a fierce little rush of pride.

The six bridesmaids have their bouquets. The buttonholes and corsages have been delivered. The sixteen centrepieces are in position, and the top-table arrangement is done. It’s just the arch that needs to be finished.

I tilt my head, looking at the curve of flowers.

“There’s a gap there, on the left.”

Ryan looks, then takes the stems I pass him. I climb back up, and he hands them to me one at a time.

We’ve got quite good at this. I tell him what I need, and he does it. He hasn’t once complained, or suggested that something looked absolutely fine before I started fiddling with it. I appreciate that because even if no one else notices this gap in the arch, I have, and I want to know it’s right.

“Oh, that’s looking lovely,” a voice says. I turn to see Lizzie’s mum coming across the lawn towards us, already in her wedding outfit, fascinator and all.

“Almost done,” I tell her.

Her eyes move to Ryan. They linger briefly on the ink at his neck, then travel down to the skull on his arm.

“And, Briony, this is your…assistant?”

“This is Ryan. He’s⁠—”

I realise I’ve no idea how to finish that sentence. He’s my what? We’ve agreed not to see anyone else, but “boyfriend” feels a bit much after one dinner and a dog walk. Okay, okay, did we also once get naked and do naughty things during a self-defence lesson? Yes, sure, but that doesn’t help me decide how to introduce Ryan.

“Her neighbour,” Ryan supplies, filling my silence. “Here for the heavy lifting.”

“How kind. Well, I’ll leave you to it. Just thought I’d check in quickly. The bouquets and corsages are truly gorgeous, by the way.”

“Thank you so much. I’m glad you like them.”

She heads back towards the hotel. I add the last few stems, hide the remaining fixings, and come down again. Ryan lets go of the arch. We both stand back and inspect it.

“Done?” Ryan asks.

“Done,” I confirm. It’s perfect, which is just as well, seeing as two people are about to be married under it. “Ryan, I really can’t thank you enough for⁠—”

His palm connects with my bottom in a quick, firm swat.

“Ryan!”

I look round. Lizzie’s mum has gone inside, and there’s nobody near us.

“What? Naebody saw.” He looks entirely unrepentant. “And I’ve told you twenty times you don’t need to thank me. You’re no learning your lesson.”

“So you slapped my bottom?”

“Aye. And every time you thank me from now on, I’ll do it again, till you learn.”

Goodness. If that’s meant to discourage me, there’s a fairly substantial flaw in his reasoning. Because I liked it. Rather a lot, actually.

Down by the water, sunlight flashes off the windows of the boathouse brasserie.