Mike moved on to a lemon olive oil sponge with elderflower syrup and mascarpone frosting. Maddy’s eyes lit up at the word lemon. She closed her eyes briefly as she chewed.
‘Good?’ Mike asked.
‘Very good,’ Maddy said. She looked so happy. She was very cute when she was content.
Yes, she’s attractive,Eva admitted silently.
Eva reminded herself that this was normal. She could think someone was attractive, even a client, without it being the end of the world. She had boundaries. She could remain professional. It wasn’t a catastrophe.
It was harmless, really. Human. Eva would get this woman married and compartmentalise anything else.
A pretty face couldn’t take her down.
Nine
The save-the-date cards arrived in a box that looked too small to contain the rest of Maddy’s life.
She stared at it on the kitchen table while the kettle boiled loudly. Adam came in behind her, fresh from a morning run, cheeks pink and hair damp.
‘They’re here?’ he asked. He was clearly buzzing with endorphins, though Maddy couldn’t have said whether it was the wedding or a thirty-minute jog that was jazzing him up.
‘That’s right,’ Maddy said.
He grinned and lifted the lid before she could say anything else. Inside, neat stacks of cream cards sat wrapped in tissue paper.
Adam picked one up reverently. ‘They look amazing.’
Maddy nodded. The design was very tasteful, chosen during a planning call where Maddy had eventually just begged Eva, ‘Can you pick?’
‘Do you want to read it out loud?’ Adam asked.
Maddy hesitated, then took a card. Showtime. ‘Please save the date for the wedding of Maddy Kind and Adam Morrison,’ she read with all the enthusiasm she could muster. ‘Formal invitation to follow.’
Adam beamed. ‘That’s us.’
She smiled back automatically.
Us. This was her life forever. Not so shocking, really, after ten years. Yet also astonishing. Maddy supposed it was the formality. The absoluteness.
It was an adjustment she’d make with time.
He kissed her temple. ‘Dad already asked if we could hand-deliver some of these. He doesn’t trust the post.’
‘Of course,’ Maddy said weakly.
Adam’s father, Harry, was a surgeon, and apparently, the profession and his need for control went hand in hand. Not so shocking that his perfectionist tendencies extended to his son’s nuptials, Maddy supposed. Though this was one moment that a bit of sexism might have come in handy. But Harry was not letting his testicles preclude him from running the show, just like always.
If only he could have handed this off to his wife, Adam’s mum. She barely spoke. That would have been perfect.
Halfway through the pile, Maddy’s phone buzzed. A message from Eva.
Greenhouse still has availability for your date. I will arrange another viewing if Adam would like to come.
That was clearly a little shove in the direction of pinning down the venue. She couldn’t put it off anymore.
‘Planner?’ Adam asked.
‘Yes. That greenhouse is still free, if you’d like to go see it?’
