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46
LIAM
I arriveat the castle with Bryn. The mid-morning winter sun shines on the snow-covered castle keep and across the grounds toward the coast. The journey from the hotel in Pembroke was short and mostly in silence. But I know the words are coming; Bryn won’t be able to resist.
“Go on,” I say to Bryn as we step out of the car into the snow.
Bryn straightens his jacket, the grey suit and waistcoat matches mine, the same crisp white shirt and red tie to match the white rose and berry buttonhole. “Go on, what?”
“A comment about the last wedding we attended. Get the snark over with.”
“Oh, Liam, man!” Bryn throws an arm across my shoulder. “If I thought you’d abandon another bride, I wouldn’t agree to be your best man again.”
“I can a hundred percent guarantee I will not be leaving here until I’m a married man.”
“I know,” says Bryn with a smirk. “Come on.”
The vaulted chapel rests inside the castle walls, the serenity of the location and the small number of guests milling around are a world away from the pink disaster earlier this year.
Inside, a white drape hangs around the arched window at the end of the chapel, the distressed stone walls showing the age of the building. Chairs are set out in rows for the twenty or so people chosen to attend. The official photographer, negotiated as exclusive to keep the press away, sits on one of the grey chairs at the back of the room. Either that or she’s a wedding guest with a really large camera. With her long brown hair and smart red dress, the young woman doesn’t look very paparazzi. Hopefully, she’ll be subtle about her intrusion into what I wanted to be a private day.
Mum and Dad sit grinning at me on the front row, and bridesmaid Louise will be bossing Cerys, I imagine. I stand near the low table at the front and greet the grey haired woman who’s the registrar, then turn back to the half-empty room.
What if fate gets revenge on me and Cerys changes her mind?
No, she wouldn’t.
Dylan and Sky sit at the front to the left of me whispering to each other, hands firmly held. When Sky sees me, she nudges Dylan and he comes over.
“You made it, then?” he asks.
I glance at Bryn. “One of you had to say that, didn’t you? Not fucking funny.”
Dylan holds his hands up. “Whoa. Okay, stressed much?”
“Dylan, be nice. Of course he’s stressed, it’s his wedding day,” says Bryn.
Dylan wrinkles his nose and glances at Sky. “Yeah, okay. Good luck then.”
He returns to Sky and they continue their conversation. She declined the invitation to be a bridesmaid and wears a short dress, a weird grey colour that I’m sure Cerys can tell me the name of. I’m not that bothered in studying people’s clothes, I just want this over with.
“Dylan is pissed off you beat him to the alter,” whispers Bryn.
“Not my fault if Sky won’t set a date.”
A variety of family and the Blue Phoenix inner circle fill the chairs in the small room. Steve and his wife, Tina and her latest guy, plus cousins I see once in a blue moon crowd together in a bizarre mix of my life. Jem arrives, late as usual, and I’m surprised to see Ruby with him. Of the four of us, he looks the least comfortable forced to dress in a suit. The pair look as nervous as me as they head to their allotted seats at the front. Ruby chooses to sit next to Dylan and not Sky, smoothing her red dress that matches her hair as she sits. Jem wishes me luck then sits beside her. I look up at the arched ceiling, not wanting to engage with anyone.Please let this be quick.
Ella appears at the back of the chapel and to my relief she isn’t wearing one of her Disney princess dresses. Her short cream dress is tied around the middle with a red ribbon to match her shoes and the one in her braided brown hair. I wave at her and she rushes back in the direction she came.
My heart fights with my mind—what if Cerys is running too, that six months is too soon, and I’ll get my retribution for what I did to Honey?
I don’t need to worry. The woman who appears with her daughter’s hand firmly held is the person who fate pulled me to. Here, in this moment, I understand why I was pulled back to Wales last Christmas. My soul mate walks along the narrow space between the chairs and I’m unaware of anything but her. Couldn’t tell you what music was playing or if anyone is in the room, just the magnetic pull to the place I need to be: Cerys.
The intense love for her explodes through, filling my heart until my chest hurts. I fight against going to Cerys, hoisting her over my shoulder and running. The crazy thought puts a smile on my face which Cerys returns. We’re locked in this moment, the push and pull of the fates finally over.
She’s absolutely, fucking gorgeous. To me, Cerys is beautiful in scruffy, dress down clothes and no make-up, so in the floor length, ivory gown that moulds around her gorgeous breasts and pulls in at her waist to define that killer ass blows my mind. I immediately worry she’s cold until Louise appears behind Cerys and drapes a shawl across her shoulders. Louise’s dress matches Ella’s, but without the ribbon, and she gently guides Ella towards where I stand.
Finally, close enough to touch her, I take Cerys’s soft hand in mine. “Your hands are cold,” I whisper and rub her fingers.
