Nine
The save-the-date cards arrived in a box that looked too small to contain the rest of Maddy’s life.
She stared at it on the kitchen table while the kettle boiled loudly. Adam came in behind her, fresh from a morning run, cheeks pink and hair damp.
‘They’re here?’ he asked. He was clearly buzzing with endorphins, though Maddy couldn’t have said whether it was the wedding or a thirty-minute jog that was jazzing him up.
‘That’s right,’ Maddy said.
He grinned and lifted the lid before she could say anything else. Inside, neat stacks of cream cards sat wrapped in tissue paper.
Adam picked one up reverently. ‘They look amazing.’
Maddy nodded. The design was very tasteful, chosen during a planning call where Maddy had eventually just begged Eva, ‘Can you pick?’
‘Do you want to read it out loud?’ Adam asked.
Maddy hesitated, then took a card. Showtime. ‘Please save the date for the wedding of Maddy Kind and Adam Morrison,’ she read with all the enthusiasm she could muster. ‘Formal invitation to follow.’
Adam beamed. ‘That’s us.’
She smiled back automatically.
Us. This was her life forever. Not so shocking, really, after ten years. Yet also astonishing. Maddy supposed it was the formality. The absoluteness.
It was an adjustment she’d make with time.
He kissed her temple. ‘Dad already asked if we could hand-deliver some of these. He doesn’t trust the post.’
‘Of course,’ Maddy said weakly.
Adam’s father, Harry, was a surgeon, and apparently, the profession and his need for control went hand in hand.
Not so shocking that his perfectionist tendencies extended to his son’s nuptials, Maddy supposed.
Though this was one moment that a bit of sexism might have come in handy.
But Harry was not letting his testicles preclude him from running the show, just like always.
If only he could have handed this off to his wife, Adam’s mum. She barely spoke. That would have been perfect.
Halfway through the pile, Maddy’s phone buzzed. A message from Eva.
Greenhouse still has availability for your date. I will arrange another viewing if Adam would like to come.
That was clearly a little shove in the direction of pinning down the venue. She couldn’t put it off anymore.
‘Planner?’ Adam asked.
‘Yes. That greenhouse is still free, if you’d like to go see it?’
‘Yeah? Great. Let’s just go ahead then.’
Maddy smiled. ‘You don’t want to see it?’
‘I have seen it,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I went on their website.’
‘Yes, but don’t you think you might want to actually stand in the space? Get a proper sense of it?’
He put a hand on her wrist. ‘No, I trust you.’
He’d been saying that a lot lately. It was supposed to be comforting, Maddy supposed. Funny how it was starting to piss her off.
‘Anyway, I don’t want to interfere with you and the wedding planner,’ he added.
That threw Maddy for a loop. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, she’s not… I mean, she’s your thing, isn’t she? I’d just confuse things.’
‘You’re allowed an opinion in this,’ Maddy said.
She almost added, ‘I’d actually quite like one, seeing as you set this whole ball rolling.’ But she didn’t.
‘You made her sound a bit scary,’ Adam said with a chuckle.
Maddy almost defended Eva. Then stopped herself, unsure why the urge felt so strong. ‘She’s okay. So, I can give her the go-ahead?’ Maddy asked again.
‘Pull the trigger, baby,’ Adam said.
Maddy texted Eva that they were a yes. A text came back not two minutes later, explaining that Eva had called the venue and placed a hold on the place for the next forty-eight hours until a formal contract was signed, which she would deliver tomorrow.
Man, Eva did not fuck around.
‘Since that’s done… Shall we write the envelopes now?’ Adam asked.
‘Why not?’ Maddy asked. She meant it literally. Why not? What was the reason?
They sat at the table with envelopes and stamps. Adam wrote addresses in neat, confident handwriting. Maddy hovered above her first envelope.
‘You OK?’ Adam asked.
‘Yes. It’s just… my handwriting. It’s terrible. I don’t want them to look a mess and…’
He took her stack with a small smile. ‘You can lick stamps.’
She smiled gratefully. ‘Thanks.’
‘Are you excited?’ he asked casually as he pressed on with his job.
‘Yes,’ she said quickly. ‘In a way.’
He nodded sympathetically. ‘Everyone says this part feels surreal.’
Surreal. Yes. That was a good word for it.
The dress, the walk up the aisle, everyone there watching while she repeated all the stuff.
The trouble was that none of it had ever seemed like something that was going to happen to her.
She was going to get used to that idea eventually, though. Any day now.
But for the moment, Adam had given her permission to find the whole thing weird, so that was something. It might have been nice if he’d dug a bit deeper, but you couldn’t have everything, could you?
They fell into a rhythm, Adam handling the pen while Maddy was in charge of saliva distribution.
By the time the last envelope was sealed, the table was covered in neat stacks. She looked at them and thought: You don’t have to wait to be asked. You can just say how you’re feeling. Maybe he’s feeling the same. Maybe he’s waiting for you to say it first.
‘Adam, do you ever feel like it’s all too much? Getting married?’
He smiled at her. ‘No. It’s great!’ His smile faltered ever so slightly. ‘You don’t feel that way, do you?’
Maddy shook her head. ‘Nope. Just checking in.’
Adam’s smile went back up to its usual wattage. He gathered up the stack triumphantly.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
Maddy swallowed. ‘Yeth.’
Adam frowned. ‘What?’
Maddy blinked. ‘I thaid, yeth.’
There was a pause. Adam was staring at her.
‘Maddy,’ he said carefully, ‘your face is…’
Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Whath?’
‘Go look in the mirror.’
She stood and marched to the hallway mirror. Adam followed, hovering just behind her shoulder.
Maddy leaned toward her reflection. ‘Oh.’ Her mouth was swelling up.
Adam pressed his lips together, fighting laughter.
Maddy turned slowly. ‘Do nod laugh.’
That did it. He bent double. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just—’
‘Adam.’
‘You look like a budget Kardashian.’
‘ADAM!’ she pleaded. She was freaking out. She wanted him to freak out with her, not have a great time.
He straightened, wiping his eyes. ‘Okay. Right. Serious. What have you eaten?’
‘Nodthing.’
‘Anything new?’
‘Juth—’ She gestured helplessly at the dining table. Adam followed the gesture. The envelopes.
Adam stared at her. ‘You’ve had an allergic reaction to envelope glue.’
She touched her lip again experimentally. Were they even bigger? ‘I theel tingly.’
‘Because you licked a hundred industrial adhesives in one sitting. You should have used a sponge or something!’
‘Now you thell me!’
Adam took a steadying breath. ‘Okay. Are you itchy anywhere else? Throat tight? Breathing normal?’
She paused, assessing. ‘Breathing’th fine.’
‘Any rash?’
She checked her arms. ‘No.’
‘Mild allergic reaction then. I’ll get the Benadryl.’
***
‘Okay, hospital time!’ Adam said cheerfully an hour later.
‘Whath? Nooooo! Can’ we juth give ih anover our?’
‘No, babe. We can’t take the chance. You still look crazy.’
Maddy sighed. ‘OK.’
‘Oh, and we can post the save-the-dates en route,’ he said cheerfully. ‘And if we’re out and about, I really need to take back those shoes.’
Maddy sighed again. ‘OK.’
***
Later, Maddy’s face was returning to normal from some prescription-grade antihistamines, Adam had a refund for his oddly fitting Reeboks, and the save-the-dates were out in the wild.
‘And look on the bright side,’ Adam said in the car on the way home.
‘What’s the bright side?’
‘This is going to sound hilarious in my speech!’
Maddy laughed weakly. ‘Good point.’