Chapter 1 Smoke
Eight Years Later
The ground was wet beneath her feet, the forest floor sodden with mud and fallen leaves. An earthy smell of damp was in the air, moist and rich with decay. It was a grey day, the sky the colour of slate. What little light there was struggled to break through the overhanging canopy of trees. Leaning back against an old birch tree, Ari Lightowler took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts.
It could be worse, she told herself, looking around with dismay at the patches of mud. On a clear day there would be dappled sunshine. Without the fine mist of rain, the overwhelming scent of moist earth would clear, leaving only the pleasant aroma of woodland trees. They could make this work, she hoped, looking around again. No, not just work. They could make this wedding glorious , Ari decided. The private woodland chosen as the ceremony venue was crude, but it was also natural. With a little imagination, with a little heart and hard work, this could be their best wedding yet.
Hope rapidly filled Ari’s heart as she turned to her brother and business partner, Sebastian, with a smile. Sebastian, leaning against a nearby beech tree, was smoking a cigarette, blowing smoke with a huff into the damp morning air. Disappointment was written into every inch of his face, from the beautifully sculpted cheekbones, of which he was rightly proud, to the downturned lips that held his hanging cigarette.
“This isn’t so bad.” Ari gestured around her.
“Darling, it’s a pile of shit.” Sebastian took another drag.
“No, it’s not. It’s natural, earthy and it’s—”
“It’s a bog.” Sebastian’s eyes lingered on the mud and trees.
“It’s autumnal.” Ari walked into the middle of the clearing and looked around. “We can make this one of those earthy-type, bronze-and-gold October weddings.” She dropped to her haunches to pick up a fallen leaf. “That can be the colour scheme, in fact. It’ll be perfect.”
Sebastian shrugged, blowing yet more smoke into the air.
Ari frowned at him. “You know Luis hates that,” she chided. “I promised him I would look after you while we were here. Three hours after landing and you’ve already smoked half a pack. Do you want to die of smoke inhalation?”
Sebastian shrugged again. “Looking at this place, maybe I do — and Luis is three and half thousand miles away. He can hardly lecture me.”
Ari frowned again. “Well, what about forest fires, then?”
Sebastian gestured to his mud-splattered shoes. “That’s an excellent idea, darling. Let’s burn the place down and force our rich ‘we must have the perfect outdoor wedding for Instagram’ clients to hire a venue we can actually work with, hmm?”
Ari sighed. “We can work with this. It isn’t the worst venue we’ve faced. Remember that beach in Kent, which was great, up until the night before the wedding when Storm Ida caused all those skulls and femurs from Dead Man’s Island to wash up onshore?”
Sebastian nodded, stubbing his cigarette out on the trunk of a tree.
“And remember the couple who wanted to get married in the shoe aisle of the TK Maxx where they met? Or the time that couple wanted to get married in the lemur enclosure of London Zoo?”
Sebastian stared at her. “I still maintain that monkey hit me first.”
Ari shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. All I’m saying is that if we can work with that, we can work with this.”
“Fine, fine.” Sebastian shoved his hands into his pockets, coming to Ari’s side. He gave Ari a nudge. “So, sister dearest, tell me. What do you have in mind?”
Ari stood, brushing her hands on her trousers. She passed Sebastian the leaf she’d retrieved from the forest floor. “Look at those colours. Quite stunning, wouldn’t you say? Bronze and gold and red all wrapped into one. Like I said, we’ll pitch it as an earthy wedding... autumnal and — wait, Americans don’t call it autumn, do they?”
“No,” Sebastian turned the leaf over in his hand, “fall.”
Ari chewed on her lip. “So, what word do they use for ‘autumnal’ then?”
Sebastian sighed, crumbling the leaf in between his fingers. “Fucking fallout, probably.” He pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and went to light another one as Ari glared at him.
“What?” He lit the cigarette. “A fallout is what our business is going to have if we don’t get this wedding right, Ari. Might I remind you that our bride-to-be and the mother of the groom will be meeting with us in exactly one hour, ready to hear all our ideas for this piece of shit parcel of land they absolutely must have the ceremony on? If we don’t come up with the goods ASAP, we can kiss all our plans to expand into the North American market goodbye.”
“I know,” Ari replied. “And I want this to work as much as you do. I’ve just as much at stake, you know, and...” Something in Sebastian’s words made her pause. “What do you mean, the mother of the groom? Why not the mother of the bride?”
“Dead,” Sebastian puffed at his cigarette again. “We’re working with the bride and her prospective mother-in-law.”
“Fuck,” Ari whispered, and Sebastian gave a nod of agreement.
“Indeed.” He blew out another plume of smoke. “The mother of the groom is always complicated to work with, especially if she doesn’t have any daughters of her own.”
“Please tell me this one has a daughter?” Ari’s stomach fell as Sebastian shook his head.
“Sadly not. Groom is one of two sons.”
“Double fuck,” Ari whispered, and Sebastian gave her a rueful grin.
“That’s the spirit,” he remarked. “We have to deal with what will most likely be an antagonistic relationship between two women, all the while planning the wedding of the year on this, a shit field of dreams.” He gave another depressed shake of his head. “Who in the bloody hell gets married in the woods? I mean, haven’t these people ever heard of Lyme disease?”
“You tell me.” Ari shrugged. “I’m the artistic director, remember? You manage the clients.”
Sebastian took a long drag on his cigarette. “Miss Teen Rhode Island,” he muttered, and Ari stared at him.
“What? I don’t understand. Is that a cocktail or something?”
Sebastian laughed in a puff of smoke. “No, darling, it’s our tree-hugging bride-to-be. Sasha Saffin.”
“Sasha Saffin?” Ari furrowed her brow. “That’s got to be a drink name, right?”
“Sadly not.” Sebastian dangled the cigarette from his lips again, then pulled his phone out. He swiped across the screen several times, before tossing it in Ari’s direction.
Ari caught it deftly, glanced down and inhaled sharply. “The bride?”
Sebastian nodded lazily. “Photogenic, isn’t she?” After a final puff, he stubbed his cigarette onto the tree again.
Ari continued to stare at his phone. “That’s putting it lightly,” she exhaled, her voice rich with admiration.
Sasha Saffin was breathtaking — there was no other word, Ari decided, that could possibly do her justice. White-blonde of hair and violet of eye, she had the sort of glowing tanned skin that Ari — perpetually fair and pale — deeply envied in others. Sasha’s face, smiling in this photograph, was shaped beautifully, just sharp enough to catch all the right camera angles, while soft enough to look womanly and young. She was without a doubt the most striking bride Ari had ever worked with
After just one look at Sasha’s angelic beauty, an idea formed in Ari’s mind.
“She’s aes sídhe ,” Ari whispered, handing Sebastian back his phone.
He looked at her quizzically. “Now you’re talking cocktail names. Care to translate?”
Ari grinned. “ Aes sídhe — it’s Gaelic.”
“Still not helpful.” Sebastian rolled his eyes, pulling out another cigarette and bringing it to his lips.
Ari sprang forward, yanking the cigarette from Sebastian’s mouth, and snapped it in half between her fingers.
“Fuck, Ari—”
“She’s aes sídhe ,” she said again. “One of the fair folk.”
Sebastian looked at her blankly.
“One of the others. A good neighbour. One of the blessed.”
“You mean like the Mormons?” Sebastian pulled out another cigarette. “This isn’t a religious ceremony, Ari, I did ask in the client questionnaire — ? ”
Ari groaned. “No, you muppet. Not the Mormons. A fairy. ”
Sebastian stared at her for a moment, then rolled his eyes and lit up. “Darling, I think all this fresh forest air is getting to you. Here, have a cigarette. It’ll clear your head right up.”
“I don’t want a cigarette.”
“Well, you should, they’re fucking amazing.”
“ Sebastian ,” Ari spoke firmly. “Listen to me. Have you ever heard about Samhain?”
Sebastian scratched his head. “I think... Wait, is he that bloke I slept with in the early noughties? The boy band member?”
Ari took a deep breath. “No. It isn’t a person, it’s an ancient Celtic festival to mark the end of the harvest. Tradition says that fairies and spirits would come out of hiding to celebrate and— Wait, what boy band member? You never told me about him.”
Sebastian grinned at her. “I have a chequered romantic history. You don’t know the half of it.”
“Does Luis know?”
“Luis?” Sebastian rolled his eyes, but there was a fond smile playing on his lips. “He makes me tell that story all the time. But then, I always ask him about that soap star he shagged and—”
Ari’s mouth fell open. “I have dinner with you and Luis like four times a week, and you two have never once dished the dirt on anyone famous. Instead, you’re always banging on about the newest low-carb diet you’re trying, while Luis is always complaining to me about that neighbour of yours who won’t cut her shrub back.”
“Patty.” Sebastian sneered. “And her rampant bush.”
Ari frowned. “I can’t help but feel a little cheated here, Sebastian.”
For a moment, Sebastian seemed to consider her. He inhaled on his cigarette, long and thoughtful, before blowing smoke into the air above them.
“If you want the truth, Ari, Luis and I... Well, we’re both a little uncomfortable talking about sex with you.”
Again, Ari’s mouth fell open. “ Why? ”
Sebastian shrugged. “Because, point one, you’re my sister and it’s a little icky. And point two, well...” he trailed off.
“Point two?” Ari pressed.
“Well, because you don’t have it, my darling.”
She paused, suddenly aware of the weight from the backpack on her shoulder. Uncomfortable, she shifted it, feeling colour flood her cheeks. “I have had sex, thank you very much,” she snapped.
“You have a daughter, so I figured that out for myself,” Sebastian retorted. “But recently?”
Ari coloured further. “Well, I don’t know how you define recently —”
“You’re the perfect paradox, you know.” Sebastian shook his head. “A wedding planner — and one of the best in the business, I might add — who surrounds herself with magic and love and all things romance, and yet has remained consistently single for... What has it been now? Seven years?”
Eight, Ari’s head immediately supplied. Eight years. Instinctively, her hand reached into her jacket pocket — she traced her fingertip over the card that lay within.
“I’m not criticising you darling,” Sebastian carried on. “God knows, what you do in your private time is your own business. But Luis and I... Well, we worry about you. Sometimes we wonder if you aren’t more than a little... lonely.”
“How can I be lonely? I have my family,” Ari stuttered, and Sebastian gave her a kindly smile.
“Yes, of course you do.” He blew more smoke into the air. “But if you spent any more time with Luis and I you’d be living with us, Ari.”
“I’m not... I’m not at your house all the time.” Even she could hear the weakness in her voice.
Sebastian raised an eyebrow at her. “We plan our meals around you. Luis calls me from Borough Market every Saturday morning while we’re out on the wedding circuit, asking if you prefer Italian olives to Greek ones or Roquefort to Gorgonzola.”
Ari stared at him in horror, shifting her boots in the mud awkwardly. “You don’t have to plan meals around me.”
“I keep telling Luis that.” Sebastian rolled his eyes once more. “I keep telling him you’re like a gannet with hollow legs who eats everything but the plate her food is served upon — and even that is touch and go sometimes — but does he listen to me, oh no, he’s all, ‘She is your sister, Sebastian, and we feed our family well in my culture,’” Sebastian sighed, dragging on his cigarette tiredly. “God, I miss him.” He looked up at Ari worriedly. “Don’t tell him about the cigarettes, will you? You know what he’s like — well, of course you do, you’re with us all the time — he hates the smoking.”
“We all hate the smoking.” Ari worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “I won’t come around so often when we get home, okay?” she offered quietly, and Sebastian sighed, dredging through the mud to stand by her side.
“Yes, you will, because we adore you, and we adore Reine.” He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Like I said, Luis and I... we just worry about you. We’re concerned that you’re going to waste your youth waiting for a man that might not—”
“Don’t say it,” Ari whispered, closing her eyes.
“—come back for you.” Sebastian gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
It was like a knife running down her spine, the jolt of pain Ari felt. She rubbed her fingers over the card in her pocket once more, then took a long, cleansing breath of fresh forest air.
“He’s coming back for me,” she said firmly. “He promised.”
“Darling, I—”
“I don’t want to talk about Tom Miller right now.” Ari straightened, pulling her hand out of her pocket. She tidied her hair and shifted her backpack once more. “Now, can we get back to Sasha Saffin and...” She paused. “Groom’s name?”
“Thomas Somerset.” Sebastian looked at her wearily. “Goes by Tom.”
Ari paused. “Tom?”
“Another Tom,” Sebastian repeated.
Ari swallowed down the lump in her throat.
“Ari—”
“I’m fine,” she told him. “It’s just a name. Right, okay, Tom Somerset. Let’s get back to the Sasha Saffin and Tom Somerset wedding.” She cleared her throat, pulled a notepad from her bag and started to jot down some notes. “I’m thinking of pitching a Samhain wedding, which, given that it’s the end of September now, gives us thirteen months until the wedding day itself. Ample time to plan. I’m thinking of bonfires and harvest fare and fireflies and an outdoorsy, Instagram worthy fair folk themed event. I’m thinking of Sasha in white-gold silk. I’m thinking of a candlelit walkway to this clearing in the wood. I’m thinking of a string quartet. I’m thinking...” Ari trailed off, seeing Sebastian’s eyes resting on her oddly. “I’m thinking I have something on my face. Why are you staring at me? What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you’re a fucking genius, darling,” Sebastian replied. “I’m thinking of all the money I’m going to spend once you’ve pitched this idea and won us this wedding. I’m thinking that people always say you can’t polish a turd, and yet, here we are in shit-central, and you’ve got the place shining bright, Ari.”
She gave him a proud smile. “I’m good at my job. Hopefully good enough to win us this wedding.”
“With this idea, it’s practically in the bag.” Sebastian seemed cheerier, and it pleased Ari to think that she’d helped ease his worries. Well, it was either her or the copious amounts of nicotine.
“I hope so,” Ari said. “What do you know about Sasha, our bride? Anything I should be prepared for?”
Sebastian shrugged. “She’s in social media, whatever that means. Was runner-up in a Miss Teen Rhode Island contest once upon a time.”
“Runner-up? You mean she didn’t win?” Ari was genuinely shocked. “ How? If this girl,” she pointed to the picture on Sebastian’s phone, “didn’t win, what the fuck did the actual winner look like?”
“So, I wondered that too,” Sebastian replied. “I did a little research, and it turns out our bride Sasha didn’t do so well on the interview round. A little more googling and some internet stalking, and I have the distinct impression she’s more of a style-over-substance kind of woman, our bride.”
“Right, well, that should work in our favour.” Ari suddenly felt positive. “Style we can offer in spades. So long as the mother of the groom isn’t an issue, we’ll be planning this wedding in no time.”
Sebastian nodded. “I have a feeling Sasha will lap up the old routine. Me, the English gentleman, ready with the compliments, while you produce a stunning visual of what her big day will entail. She should eat it up... just like you, with everything in my refrigerator.”
“Hey,” Ari huffed, but she smiled all the same. “Right, well, let’s get back to the house. We have a bride to win over.”
Sebastian nodded, before he frowned momentarily. “Don’t you want to know anything about the groom?”
Ari looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Well, rather interestingly, when I sent the client questionnaire over, Sasha filled in her half... but Tom Somerset, groom-to-be, left his section completely blank.”
“So?” Ari asked, picking her way through the mud, finding her way back to the path of the ornate house where they were meeting the bride and mother of the groom for lunch.
“So,” Sebastian fell into step beside her, “don’t you think that’s odd? Most of the time, the groom at least shows some minor interest in his wedding. But this one... it’s like he’s happy to leave everything to his fiancée and mother.”
“All the better for us.” Ari shrugged.
“I just find that a little odd, is all. I’d hate to think that our North American expansion plan could be scuppered by an unruly groom, and—”
“Sebastian,” Ari came to a stop and put a hand on his shoulder, “don’t worry about it.”
“I can’t help but worry about it.” Sebastian shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Worry about winning over Sasha and her mother-in-law, okay? Worry about winning this pitch. Besides, in the six years we’ve been running Queen and Country Weddings, the groom has never been a problem.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “And there’s absolutely no reason for this Tom Somerset to be any different. No reason at all.”