Chapter 60
Chapter Sixty
WILL
Day Twenty-Three
With shaking hands, I adjust the loose strand of my hair before fixing my collar. Nine in the morning, and already I want to get out of these clothes and go for a swim in the refreshing ocean, or a pool, or even have a cold shower. Seriously. Anything cooler than this would do.
I stand in the shadow the Parthenon, which is closed today. Disappointed tourists mumbling to each other as they walk past an old Rolls-Royce car with wedding streamers on the front.
‘You sure you can do this?’
Sam, by my side, wearing a crisp white Oxford shirt. It makes my off-white shirt look dirty in comparison, but I don’t mind. After all, comparing myself to others is being pushed further and further from the front of my mind.
The wedding called for smart casual, because of the heat, so I paired my shirt with charcoal chino shorts, and a pair of slip-on smart shoes, that look leather but aren’t, to spare the cow. I take Sam’s hand, warm in mine, and look at him.
‘I can do this,’ I say. ‘Can you?’
‘You bet.’
It’s odd to be standing outside such a historic site, about to marry my ex-boyfriend to his fiancé, with my new boyfriend in attendance. As we make our way to the Odeon of Herodes Atticus, a smile plays out across my face.
‘There you go. You’re relaxing,’ Sam says, noticing my expression.
‘No. I was just thinking about the last time we were here.’
Bizarre to think we agreed to go to this wedding as fake boyfriends, all in a ruse to make Ollie jealous and somehow get him back. It feels so long ago. Now this is our first proper outing after establishing what we are to one another.
Our feet crunches over the gravelled floor, guests walking ahead, dressed in summer attire.
‘Names, please?’ A man in a suit asks as we reach the entrance to the amphitheatre. I won’t dare to look in at it. Not yet.
‘Will and Sam,’ I say, fixing my eyes on his clipboard. ‘Aren’t you hot?’
‘Sweltering,’ he says. ‘But it’s okay. I didn’t get the memo that it was smart casual.’
‘Drink lots of water,’ Sam says with concern, as the man steps aside to let us in.
Looking down at the tiles, I take a deep breath, grip Sam’s arm, and then look up.
Oh my God.
The odeon is draped with silk cloths of ivory and pink, and already guests are filling it up.
Photographers mill around snapping shots.
Too many to just be wedding photographers.
My stomach twists as I thought about how the socialite magazines are covering this wedding.
How Ollie is getting himself into a life of well-off events, where his name might carry some weight.
Above the colosseum, someone has hung bunting above the crowds, depicting two grooms holding hands. At the bottom of the amphitheatre, Ollie is in conversation with his best man, a guy I recognise. Damn, I didn’t think about showing my face to people who were once my friend, too.
The lanterns that had once been a potential problem now look absolutely perfect, flickering a warm glow of candlelight. Doves fly above, like someone trained them not to leave the odeon and find a life of freedom.
God, maybe I shouldn’t have come.
I must be shaking, because Sam rubs my hand.
‘Well, good luck up there,’ he says.
He kisses my forehead, and I say goodbye to him. He takes a seat a few rows from the front.
All my life I let insecurities control me. Now here I am, about to stand in front of a crowd of people, swallowing my pride to wed my ex.
I’m going to see this wedding through to the joyfully bitter end. If Alice could see me now.
Relief crests Ollie’s face like a refreshing wave as I approach.
His skin is spotless, all facial hair gone.
He’s swept his hair back, giving him the look of an obscure member of the royal family, like Prince Edward, but when he was hot.
He’s the most casual-looking groom I’ve ever seen, in loafers, loose-fitting trousers, and a shirt unbuttoned at the top.
No tie, which surprises me. I try not to look at the hint of hair on his chest, but I’m only human.
‘Thank you,’ he whispers, as I brush past him.
‘Anything,’ I say.
My heart skips when I spot Ollie’s parents. They were always so regal and well put together. I have to admit I take pleasure in seeing his dad’s balding, sunburnt head, and his mother looking like she’s been told there’s no organic fruit left in the world.
When his dad waves at me, his mother lowers his hand and turns away. It takes all the strength I have not to swear at them.
I call that emotional growth.
‘What are you doing here?’ I gasp, stepping away from the altar, my back to Ollie.
Lydia, Tim and Jemima walk towards us, Lydia wearing an enormous hat that is going to annoy the people behind her.
‘Ollie invited us,’ Lydia says. ‘Not sure why, after that meal. But he apologised and asked us to come.’
‘Seemed the right thing to do,’ Ollie says.
‘I wouldn’t miss free champagne.’ Jemima holds up a fizzing glass of champagne, beaming.
‘There was free champagne?’ I ask.
‘Aye, have mine,’ Tim says. ‘I don’t like the stuff.’
I take the flute and savour the fizz as I sip. There is nothing more serene than ice-cold champagne on a hot day when you’re about to marry your ex to someone else.
Music swells, a slowed-down version of ‘Lay All Your Love On Me’ played by an orchestral band. I think of that walk with Sam right at the start of my trip. The buzz of the crowd dims. Alec appears at the top of the colosseum, and walks down the stairs alone. All eyes on him.
He’s dashing in his smart shirt, his flowing pleated shorts, his spotless loafers.
At the altar, he looks at me, his grin falling ever so slightly, but his eyes alight. ‘Thank you,’ he whispers to me, his back to the audience.
‘You look absolutely beautiful.’
Ollie. Alec. Their wedding day.
This is it.
Silence stretches around us, except for the sound of birds in the distance. My heart pounds, my mouth running dry. I taste the champagne I sipped from Tim’s glass, wishing I’d downed the whole thing. Summoning a new-found courage, I project my voice.
‘Good morning, everyone, and thank you for joining us on this glorious day,’ I say. ‘We’re here to witness the marriage of Ollie Pankhurst and Alec Aniston.’
Ollie smiles at Alec, and Alec smiles back.
The apprehension I felt about coming to the wedding is slowly absorbed by the sun, and like a plant, I can feel myself growing. With every word of the ceremony, the two men before me get lost in one another. Alec wipes a tear. Ollie’s lip quivers. I know this was the right thing to do.
Ollie and Alec hover before me, waiting for my final words.
I meet Ollie’s eye.
‘You may now kiss your groom.’
This whole time, I dreaded this moment.
The old me would have stood up, shouted stop, and objected until the goddesses heard me.
The old me may have fainted, or declared my love for Ollie for everyone to hear.
But no objection comes to mind.
I don’t even avert my eyes as Ollie and Alec kiss, attracting cheers and applause from the crowd, and the snap, snap, snap of photographers.
I applaud, smiling, elated at what I’ve done.
This is happiness. The rings on their fingers glint in the sun, their lips locked.
They break away, laughing, ecstatic that after all this time they are bonded.
Tears prick my eyes, and I wipe them away.
Ollie looks at me, and I hold up my thumbs.
‘You did it,’ I say.
‘Thank God,’ he replies.
He goes to hug me, but I stiffen. He settles for a friendly thumbs up, and I wipe my tears once more.
The band plays ‘Lover’ by Taylor Swift, and the happy couple begin making their way out of the odeon, hand in hand, confetti fluttering over them. My smile aches, my heart slow.
‘That was beautiful,’ Lydia gasps. ‘Just beautiful.’
I step away from the altar, heading towards Sam. I did it. I faced my fear of weddings. I faced my heartache. I did it.
‘I’ve never been to a gay wedding before,’ Jemima says. ‘I want to go to some more.’
‘Maybe our lads here will be next,’ Tim says, looking at Sam and me.
Sam breaks out into laughter. And maybe I should have been offended, but I’m not.
‘Not just yet,’ I say. ‘I’ve already said no to two proposals. Don’t want to say no to another.’
‘Damn,’ Sam jokes. ‘I better return the ring, then.’
We’re the last ones to leave, letting Lydia, Tim and Jemima go on without us.
As we stand in the empty amphitheatre, looking at the remnants of Ollie’s wedding, doves land at our feet.
‘Can you believe I ever thought of stopping this?’ I ask.
‘I can,’ Sam says. ‘You’re an overdramatic romantic.’
My head tilts. ‘I like that.’
Sam kisses me, right where the happy couple got married.
‘I like you.’
‘I like you, too,’ I say. ‘Really like you.’
‘Okay, Carly Rae,’ Sam jokes.
The band play another song. I pause.
The opening notes remind me of something.
‘Sam…’
It’s the ‘Pokémon Theme’.
Sam beams, laughter bubbling out of his joyful face.
Blubbering, I run to Sam, engulfing him as the slowed-down theme tune continues to play. The piano player winks, and Sam winks back.
‘You did this?’
‘I did,’ Sam admits. ‘Couldn’t resist.’
‘Sam,’ I say, laughing. ‘Oh, Sam.’
We sway to the theme, his hands on my waist, mine on his shoulders. Our own little groom moment.
‘What do you say we go back to my hotel ever so quickly and profess our own love to one another?’
‘Does that mean get naked?’
‘Yes, Sam,’ I say. ‘It means get naked.’
Sam kisses my lips.
‘That sounds perfect.’
He takes my hand, and together we walk away from the odeon, the last notes of Pokémon dancing around us, and the optimistic hope of a brand-new life on the horizon.