I didn’t tell Ed about what happened with David; he didn’t need to know and I didn’t need to relive it. Despite my apparent cool composure during the latter part of our conversation, when I left the house it was a different matter: I shook uncontrollably during the whole of the ten-minute walk to the hotel. While I wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, of one thing I was convinced: it was something I had to experience. Something cathartic had invaded my soul when I fought David off; maybe I needed to prove to myself that I no longer harboured feelings for him, or perhaps I just needed to find out what I didn’t want in order to bring me closer to discovering what I really needed.
When I arrived back at the hotel, Ed seemed relieved to see me but didn’t press for further details, which I was immensely grateful for. We worked till gone midnight creating bouquets for Rachel and her seven attendants, plus twenty buttonholes and two corsages for David’s mother, Phoebe, and Rachel’s mother, Eunice. A few hours of snatched sleep later, we were up again, taking breakfast at six before heading over to the house for last-minute touches. Eunice met us in the entrance lobby, all feathers and fluster, fawning over the bridal bouquets with loud cries of admiration.
‘How’s Rachel?’ I asked, once she’d sufficiently regained her faculties to hold a civil conversation.
‘Beautiful. Amazing. Very nervous, but then isn’t that the bride’s prerogative?’
Walking into the orangery, I saw David, already seated in his chair. I caught his eye and he smiled: nothing more needed to be said. Ed and I made our final checks, sprayed the arrangements with water to give them a dewy freshness and retreated quietly as the groomsmen arrived, filling the glasshouse with their raucous laughter.
I didn’t see Phoebe or George—something I was glad of. I would see them later, of course, at the evening reception to which all my team had been cordially invited, but at least then I would have supportive people round me. As Ed and I walked back to the hotel once more, the guests were beginning to arrive, the street filling up with cars.
Ed’s hand brushed lightly against mine. ‘Was it like this…?’
‘At my wedding? No—nowhere near as epic as this. I wouldn’t have had peacocks, that’s for certain.’
‘No kidding,’ he smiled. ‘Does it feel weird, seeing it all happening again?’
I thought for a moment. ‘No, actually. Not at all.’ I was telling the truth. It felt right. Seven years ago, I thought that my wedding held the key to my future happiness, and spent all the succeeding years thinking I’d lost it for ever; now, conversely, another wedding was where I found it at last.
Later that evening, I stood with my team in the large drawing room of the house, watching with pleasure as they celebrated another successful Kowalski’s design.
Marnie—a vision in a yellow satin prom dress with jade green sash and matching shoes—gave me a hug.
‘Well, boss, that’s the wedding of the year over, huh?’
She lowered her voice. ‘And you’re OK with it all?’
I patted her arm. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Good. It makes you think, though, doesn’t it?’ She let out a long sigh and looked around her at the wedding guests.
‘What does?’
‘I mean, who’s going to be crazy enough to want to marry me?’
‘Plenty of people, mate, I’m sure.’
Marnie wasn’t convinced. ‘Name one.’
‘That waiter from Ellen’s.’
From the way she screwed up her face, I could tell her opinion of that suggestion. ‘I told you before, he’s too needy. I mean it, Rosie. Name one person—who I haven’t dated already—who would want me to be his wife.’
‘Zac,’ Ed interjected.
Marnie’s cheeks turned the merest shade pinker. ‘Zac who?’
‘The Fit Guy from Patrick’s.’
She laughed but her eyes remained on Ed and me. ‘He wouldn’t be interested in me.’
Ed groaned. ‘For the love of all things sacred, Marnie, can you not tell when somebody likes you?’
‘Well, I—’
‘Every time that poor guy comes into the store you pretend like you can’t see him,’ he continued. ‘Yet he still follows you around like a sick puppy and pines for you when you aren’t there. You know you like him.’
‘I do, but he…but I…’ She folded her arms and stared at Ed. ‘Are you telling me that all this time I’ve been calling him “Zac the Fit Guy” and thinking he doesn’t like me, he’s felt the same way?’
He turned to me with a helpless shrug. ‘She’s a genius, Rosie, who knew?’
‘I need alcohol.’ Shaking her head incredulously, Marnie headed in the direction of the bar.
Ed nudged me and pointed over at the door, where Nate was standing. He appeared to be looking for someone. I raised my hand and he approached us.
‘Hey guys, what can I say? This place looks astounding!’
‘Why, thank you, sir,’ Ed grinned, leaning over and whispering something to Nate, who nodded. ‘Hey, Jocelyn, Jack—let’s go get some food.’
As they left, Nate slipped an arm round my shoulders. ‘So, how are you?’
‘I’m good. You?’
‘Avoiding my fiancée. And her mother.’
‘They’re here?’
‘Uh-huh. But, look, I want to talk to you, OK?’
‘Of course.’
He looked around him. ‘Not here. Take a walk with me.’
I followed him through the guest-filled rooms, past the orchestra and out to the front lawns, where the tiny lights hidden within the garlands lining the footpath gave the whole area a magical glow. We stepped carefully across the damp lawn and round to the rear of the house, following a small, marble gravel pathway to a darkened summerhouse. Nate stopped and thrust his hands in his pockets.
‘Rosie, there’s something I need to talk to you about.’
I crossed my arms protectively. ‘Nate, I’m not sure we should be—’
‘It’s about the flowers,’ he blurted out.
My nerves began to tingle. ‘What flowers?’
‘On Christmas Day.’
‘Oh?’
‘You see, I—’
‘Nathaniel? Are you out there?’ Mimi’s voice cut sharply through the evening air.
Nate uttered a profanity under his breath. ‘I’ll be there in a minute, Mimi.’
‘We need you now.’
He shook his head and gripped my arm. ‘Look, I have to go. I’ll arrange something, OK?’
‘What do you mean?’
He had already started moving away. ‘A time to talk. I’ll be in touch, soon.’
‘But—’
‘Soon, I promise.’
Alone in the dusky garden, my head was awhir with questions, unresolved emotion and weariness from a severe lack of sleep.
‘Rosie? What are you doing out here?’ Ed appeared in the doorway of the orangery. ‘We’re going back now—you coming?’
I shivered and began to pick my way towards the house.
‘First David, now Nate: every time I turn my back you’re off with another guy,’ he quipped as I reached him. ‘I’ll try not to be offended.’
I slipped an arm through his and smiled up at him, pushing my questions to the back of my mind. ‘Ah yes, but you’re the one I’m going home with tonight.’
Ed rolled his eyes as we walked back into the house. ‘Together with Marnie, Jack and Jocelyn, I know.’