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At one-thirty, Dad and Neal turn up, already dressed, and so does Mik’s friend Tama, who’s in charge of the men’s wardrobe. Much hilarity ensues as the rest of us start getting ready. The guys, who are doubling as groomsmen and ushers, are all wearing black morning coats over dark-gray trousers and waistcoats. Damon and I have silver embroidered waistcoats and white cravats. Tama ensures that our cravats are tied properly and are neatly pinned, that we all have a pocket square and a boutonniere—a single white rosebud tucked into our buttonhole.
By 2:15 p.m. we’re all suited and booted. Even Saxon is wearing shoes rather than his usual Converses today, and I have to say all the guys look superb all dressed the same.
“Ready?” I say to Damon as I hear cars pull up outside.
He has a last look in the mirror, then blows out a breath. “No.”
I grin at him. “You know you’re going to make her cry.”
“Is that a good thing?”
I pull him toward me for a bearhug. “Good luck, bro.”
We hug for a moment, and I feel the weight of our friendship wrapping around us like a blanket—fifteen years of gaming, laughing, working, talking, and supporting each other. We’ve hardly ever argued, and he’s always been there if I needed him.
And now he’s marrying my sister. I know I’m not Belle’s father, but I feel a strange sense of passing on the responsibility of looking after her. I don’t have to worry about her anymore. Damon is more than capable of fighting off both physical and emotional demons, and I know he’ll always be by her side.
He lets me go, and I can see he’s feeling emotional as well. “I’m going to blub today, I can feel it,” he says.
“I bawled my eyes out at the altar,” Kip says. “Alice thought I’d stubbed my toe.”
Damon laughs. “Come on. Let’s go.”
We make our way to the cars, and soon we’re heading for the church. We arrive in plenty of time, and the guys give Damon bearhugs and get ready to shepherd everyone to the right place, while the two of us head inside and make our way up the central aisle to the altar.
It’s quiet at the moment, with only a scattering of early guests. A couple of Mik’s crew are putting finishing touches to the flowers, and the priest is talking softly to the choir who will be singing during the service.
Hands in his pockets, Damon studies the altar, lost in thought, and I wonder whether he’s thinking about God and the vows he’s about to take. Or maybe he’s thinking about Christian, the cousin he lost as a boy. Leaving him to his thoughts for a moment, I look around the church. The afternoon sunlight is streaming through the tall stained-glass windows, casting colored jewels onto the deep-red carpet, and turning the beautiful rimu and kauri wood a deep orange-brown.
I look back at Damon to find him watching me. He smiles. “Would you get married here? You don’t have to be religious.”
“It’s a beautiful setting.”
“Maybe we should have had a double wedding.”
I snort.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it,” he says.
I don’t reply, looking up at the beams in the high ceiling. “Did you know it’s called a nave after the Latin,navis, which means ship, because it looks like an upside-down hull of a boat?”
“I didn’t,” he says in surprise.
We look up at it for a moment.
“Are you thinking about Christian?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Thought so.”
“I was wondering if he’ll be here to watch the wedding.”
“I’m sure that if it’s possible, he will be.” I give him a wry look. “I bet he wouldn’t forget the rings.”
Damon laughs. Then he checks his watch and blows out a breath. “I’m starting to get nervous.”
“I would imagine every groom does at this point.”
