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‘Just you, though. I’m already in my dress,’ I say loudly.
Josh’s head pokes into the room. ‘Hi, it’s just me.’
Sarah beams at him. ‘Hi, babe. Come on in.’ He does, going straight to Sarah. ‘Wow, you look amazing.’
‘You look amazing.’ He presses his lips lightly to hers, leaving her lipstick intact. ‘Both of you look amazing,’ he adds.
‘Why thank you, brother dear,’ I say.
‘Are Mum and Dad here yet?’ asks Sarah.
‘Soon. They were right behind us when we left the resort. I’m gonna head up to the loft?keep the nervous groom company?and I guess we’ll see you up there.’
‘Wait, is he really nervous?’ I ask, feeling a surge of my own nerves coursing through me.
‘The good kind,’ he says gently. ‘Excited nerves.’
‘Are you sure?’ And are my nerves the ‘good kind’ or abject terror?
Josh grabs both my hands in his. ‘Positive. He’s excited, that’s all. No cold feet. Just can’t wait to marry you. Okay?’ I nod. ‘And you really do look beautiful, Cat,’ he says. He drops a featherlight kiss on my cheek, pats me on the arm, and departs with a wink at Sarah, making her all swoony.
‘He’s a good egg, is your Josh,’ I say.
‘I know,’ she says with a sigh.
I glance at the clock?ten minutes to five?and expel a long slow breath.
‘Girls?’ Mum calls from the front door.
‘In here!’ shouts Sarah.
Mum comes into the room, stopping short as she catches sight of us. ‘Oh, girls … oh my …’ She presses her lips together, looking like she might cry at any second. ‘Ronald, Ronald come quickly and see.’ Sarah and I share an ‘aww, bless’ look.
‘Coming, love.’ Dad hobbles into the room and, like Mum, stops short when he sees us. ‘Well, isn’t that a sight to behold? Look at my beautiful girls.’ All right, now I’m dangerously close to tears?but I won’t cry because I don’t want to mess up Sarah’s painstakingly applied makeup. ‘Karen, you get in there with the girls, let me take a picture.’
He takes his phone from his suit pocket and Mum steps between us and we wrap our arms around each other and Dad takes a thousand photographs before Sarah says, ‘Okay, Dad, now let me get some with you, Mum, and Cat.’
Dad brushes a tear from under his eye and smiles. Sarah uses her phone for the photographs, something I’m grateful for as hers is the latest model and I think the last time Dad upgraded his, Obama was in office.
It’s only as Dad steps into place that I realise he’s wearing sandals?well, ‘mandals’ as Sarah calls them?man sandals, those ones like Fred Flintstone wears. It’s not that I mind?certainly understandable considering he must be in a lot of pain, but I’m shocked that Mum allowed him outside their room like that.
‘Just try not to get your father’s sandals in the photo, Sarah,’ says Mum. Right on cue, I think. We smile, Sarah takes the photographs, and then it’s time.
It’s time for us to go to my wedding.
‘Right, do you have everything, love?’ asks Dad.
Sarah lifts her satin clutch?also in rose gold?and says, ‘Maid of Honour kit.’
‘Oh, the bouquet!’ says Mum, disappearing down the hallway. ‘I left it in the kitchen,’ she calls out. She soon returns holding a stunning bouquet of roses and greenery. ‘Here you are, darling.’
‘Oh, Mum. It’s beautiful. And Sarah said you made it.’
‘Well, those floristry classes had to pay off some time,’ she says modestly. Sometimes, she surprises me.
‘I love it, thank you.’
‘Right, so Sarah, you and your mum will go first and we’ll bring up the rear.’
