Chapter 72 Deli
Deli
Deli stepped out of the pub and into someone else’s fever dream.
In Lachlan’s garden, towering silver birch trees arched over a space twice as large as the pub itself, leaving a wide swath of twinkling night sky.
The crescent moon lent its glow to the dance floor where a local band played, flanked by an eclectic mix of tables, sofas, and fluffy armchairs.
Warm strings of twinkle lights wove up the white bark and through the leaves of the birch guardians.
And the ground was covered in blooming flowers, grown wild and strange just like the cottage’s impossible garden.
The archway from the ceremony had been moved to the secret oasis. The wedding cake Aunt Mo had chosen sat on a small table beneath it—a simple white buttercream adorned in black wild bramble.
Blair’s laugh showered Deli from the dance floor like a warm summer rain as she watched Douglas and the kids doing the funky chicken in unison. Andrew danced slowly with a woman who was surely his grandmother, his head on her cheek.
Deli stilled on the path, taking it in.
William’s voice was laced with teenage mischief. “Are you turning me down, Deli?”
Deli dragged her eyes from the glimmering, endless night where the people she’d come to love laughed and spun under the moon. He looked pointedly at her unmoving feet.
Deli narrowed her eyes. “Why are you doing this, Will?”
“I’m simply asking an enchantress to dance.”
She pulled her hand from his. “Lachlan.”
William smiled like a child caught doing something naughty, tilted his head, and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yes, my brother. I did ask about the two of you, but he was tight-lipped. Is there . . . something going on?”
She took a deep breath. “It’s complicated.”
“With Lachlan, it always is.” William sighed. “With me, it’s just a dance.” He offered his hand again. “Besides, I see my big brother so rarely. Would you deny me my god-given right to be a pain in the arse?”
Blair spotted them and waved for them to join her on the dance floor. Deli glanced over her shoulder at the closed door. Lachlan wasn’t there, and Deli was either going to have to dance with an ultimately harmless man with her friend at her wedding or go back inside and face her mother and Lachlan.
“I’m not a good dancer.” She took his hand.
“Don’t worry.” He swept her onto the dance floor. “I am. And it’s just a bit of fun.”