Chapter 43
Nora
If I’d stood here a few months ago, alone and believing myself heartbroken, and watched these two prepare to pledge themselves to each other, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have survived.
Saoirse I can handle. She’s beyond excited to be marrying Miles and to be surrounded by family. The way she is with Bea is so natural no one would believe she’s not her biological mother. She’s one of the genuinely nicest people I’ve ever met, and I could never begrudge Saoirse her happiness.
Miles, on the other hand, is such an emotional mess it kills me. Before yesterday, I’m not sure I could have borne seeing a man look at a woman the way he looks at Saoirse.
Like he’s ripped his heart out for her and he’s promising it to this woman. Offering it to her, so she can hold it in her hands.
But today, I observe him not with envy, but with understanding.
Because today, I know what it’s like to have a man look at me like that. Like I hold his heart in my hands.
His future.
Being part of a wedding weekend where the best man is insanely hot is a lot of fun.
Being part of a wedding weekend where the best man brought you to earth-shattering orgasm last night, and again this morning, is downright amazing.
Especially when the sinful looks he’s been casting you promise more of the same tonight.
Said insanely hot best man slips away from his brother the first chance he has at the informal pre-wedding brunch, and slides a muscular arm around my waist. He tucks my face under his chin and I inhale his scent through his soft t-shirt about as subtly as he buries his nose in my hair.
‘Not too stressed?’ His lips vibrate against my scalp.
‘Nope.’ I tug him closer. ‘Saoirse’s the dream bride. And all the helicopter guests have arrived, thank God. There are a few more dribbling down from London this afternoon, but they can look after themselves.’
‘Well done. And no last-minute calamities? I hope they’ve kept Bea away from the cake?’
Theo’s little niece has a well-documented sweet tooth.
With their budget, Miles and Saoirse could have had the fanciest cake in London, but they opted to have it crafted from scratch down here at the farm instead.
Saoirse brought Bea along with her for the critical tasting session, and the farm’s pastry chef, Molly, passed the Beatrice Montague approval process with flying colours.
Not only did her creations taste like the work of angels, but Saoirse admitted to having a mega girl-crush on Molly. She wasn’t the only one. I was similarly fascinated by her. She was like a haunted princess from an ancient fairytale.
‘Is it weird that I really want to see her hair down?’ Saoirse whispered to me one time, when we were debating cake toppers.
‘No,’ I hissed back. ‘I’m dying to unpin it. Maybe she’s secretly Rapunzel.’
Molly always wore her hair up in golden swirls and knots that had me captivated. It looked endless, from what I could see. If I had hair like that, I’d wear it loose the whole time. Health and safety regulations be damned.
‘She always looks sad,’ I said. ‘Don’t you think?’
‘I think she’s just exhausted,’ Saoirse said. ‘She’s got a little girl Bea’s age, and an older son. She’s a single mum, you know?’
‘What kind of idiot walks away from that?’ I wondered out loud. ‘She’s so gorgeous it’s obscene.’
‘Some men are a lot dumber than the Montague brothers,’ Saoirse pointed out.
‘Yeah, and from the sounds of it, they weren’t always this smart,’ I said drily. ‘Not until they met us.’
I turn now to my highly intelligent boyfriend.
‘The cake’s under lock and key,’ I assure his firm pecs. ‘And it’s bloody amazing. But you look like you’re doing more babysitting than me. How’s the groom holding up?’
Theo pulls away enough to look at me.
‘He’s a fucking mess.’ He shakes his head in mock disgust. ‘Honestly, he’ll be blubbering like a baby when they say their vows.’
I look over at Miles. His eyes are red and puffy, but he has a delirious smile on his face as he chats to his future mother-in-law.
‘I have soothing under-eye patches in my kit,’ I tell Theo. ‘They were supposed to be for the bride, but clearly the groom needs them more. Get him to put them on for twenty minutes before the ceremony, if you can. They’re in the fridge in our cottage.’
His eyes shine with admiration. ‘You’re something else, you know?’ He leans down to kiss me, his warm lips slanting against mine, and I allow myself a moment to bask in his touch. His praise.
‘Was he like this, you know, last time around?’ I ask.
Theo snorts. ‘No way. I remember him being antsy. Tense. And a bit smug, I suppose. Allegra was a trophy wife on paper. She was the perfect arm candy, but I think my brother has proven that’s not the best reason to make someone the mother of your child.’
‘Saoirse will be the best stepmum ever.’
‘She will, and he’ll be the most devoted husband.
Honestly, old Theo would think he was being pathetic.
A few months ago, I would have ripped the piss out of him for being so emotional about tying the knot.
But’—he looks down at me—‘now I get it. If I was about to marry you, I’d be just as overcome as he is.
Overwhelmed that such an incredible woman was willing to share her life with me. ’
Before I can say anything, he pulls me into his arms again, holding me as tightly as he can and sighing into my hair.
I’m not sure how I got this lucky. And I’m not sure how the hell the Theo Montague I reconnected with, a few months back, who’d had a threesome on camera and openly mocked my prudish ways, has transformed into this man.
A man whose dangerous vibes make a pulse flutter between my legs before you can say Belle and yet somehow makes me feel safer and more loved than I could ever have imagined.
The wedding goes off beautifully. As it unfolds, a small part of me is relishing the professional satisfaction of a job perfectly executed. But a far larger part of me is reeling, in the best possible way, from the emotional punch this day packs.
Miles didn’t get his Happy Ever After the first time around.
And from what Saoirse and Theo have told me, the suffering he and his beautiful, tiny daughter went through during an endless lockdown with a wife and mother who’d just left them was unthinkable.
Saoirse brought light back into their lives, and they’re the best ready-made family I’ve ever seen.
Like they were always meant to find each other.
I choose to think so, anyway.
I’m not the only one who feels this way. The outpouring of love from their families and friends is something I haven’t felt at very many weddings. This one is in a league of its own.
They marry under a canopy of white roses and greenery in the Walled Garden.
Fun fact: the spot they stand in is pretty much the exact spot where Miles kissed Saoirse for the first time last Christmas, as they listened to a choir singing carols at the Sorrel Farm Christmas party.
When Saoirse told me that story, I got goosebumps.
She said it was the happiest night of her life, but she could never have imagined that a few months later she’d be standing in the same place and vowing to love Miles forever.
I know it’s the done thing to say the bride looks breathtaking, but holy crap.
She really does. She’s in custom Astrid Carmichael, in another nod to the night they got together.
Astrid told me Miles had her dress Saoirse for the party because she’d been worried about looking too scruffy.
I mean, seriously? He did that for his nanny. The guy’s a keeper.
Her gown is backless. Ethereal. Celestial, almost. She’s bare-headed aside from some white flowers woven into her dark hair, and in her hands is a bouquet of wild flowers from the farm. She’s like a creature from another world. A fairy queen.
Saoirse’s look epitomises one of the things I’ve enjoyed most about the aesthetic this couple has gone for. That’s the fact that despite an unlimited budget, it’s not flashy. It’s polished. Tasteful. But it’s not too manicured.
At the same time, its rustic vibe doesn’t turn kitsch.
Every detail is on-point. Every touch has been endlessly planned and discussed.
Siobhan and her teams are maestros when it comes to both vision and execution.
The flowers woven into the canopy above Miles and Saoirse’s heads are flawless, but the overall effect is organic. Authentic.
It seems to me, they’ve got the balance completely right.
Bea acquits herself with aplomb as she saunters down the grassy aisle to the strains of a string quartet.
She manages to combine her petal-strewing duties with some seriously energetic waving to anyone and everyone.
She’s adorable in the palest pink chiffon dress with tiny ballet shoes. I hear she’s quite the ballerina.
My clever boyfriend has worked wonders on Miles’ puffy eyes, but his efforts all go to shit within seconds of Miles’ bride walking down the aisle, her eyes shining with love and hope.
He weeps and splutters his way through his vows, and he definitely breaks tradition by leaning over and kissing his bride several times during the brief ceremony, as if to convince himself she’s not a mirage.
I get it. She looks like one.
Their kiss at the end has the crowd whooping and cheering, and parents covering their kids’ eyes.
Miles doesn’t so much grope his wife’s ass as grind her against his crotch, and there’s a definite glimpse of tongue.
I’m beaming at them for all I’m worth when I meet the gaze of the best man.
His dark eyes are smouldering, and I catch his you’re gonna get it later, baby vibes so loud and clear that I have to squeeze my thighs together.