Chapter 36
I don’t think I’ve ever been to a winter wedding before. Well, people usually opt for the summer months, preferring the warm glow of the sun – and probably the security of knowing a freak snowstorm isn’t going to derail the big day by stranding the guests and/or having them slip on the ice.
Thankfully although it’s cold, the weather has been kind, so everything just feels so cosy and festive and positively Hallmark movie-esque. If I ever get married, I think I’d probably opt for a winter wedding too – so long as enough time had passed by for Hannah not to accuse me of copying her.
The function room is decked out for the wedding and for Christmas, which only makes it all the more beautiful and sparkly. At a summer wedding it might seem like too much but, here, with Christmas only a matter of days away, it feels exciting.
Twinkling fairy lights hang from the beams like stars, evergreen wreaths and holly wrap around the pillars, and there’s a twelve-foot Christmas tree standing proudly in the middle of the room that really is a showstopper.
It’s not the Rockefeller Center tree, but it looks like it’s trying to give the bride a run for her money by stealing the show.
The most perfect thing of all though – and admittedly this is nothing to do with the wedding – is that Jordan is here.
We’re sitting at our table, eating, chatting, having a lovely time.
It means a lot, that he came, but things are still fresh enough between us to give us that cute nervous energy and magnet-like attraction to each other.
Whenever our elbows so much as knock, it’s like lightning striking us.
When our eyes meet, we can’t help but smile. Everything just feels so right.
‘Can I have your attention, please?’ the best man calls out as he takes the mic. ‘I’m Fred, the best man, and I guess it’s my turn to give a speech…’
Fred, who I don’t really know, already has his bowtie loosened and the top button of his shirt open – he’s giving off a Michael Bublé kind of vibe, except he doesn’t quite have the voice to pull it off. Not unless Bublé usually speaks with a south Leeds accent.
He taps the microphone in a way that I’m not sure is necessary in the year 2025.
‘Can you hear me at the back?’ he calls out.
A few people cheer. The less kind ones lightly heckle him.
‘Right, I’ll keep this short and sweet – like the groom’s attention span,’ he announces. ‘And his?—’
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Hannah elbows him, not all that subtly, which gets more of a laugh than his joke was going to.
‘Your cousin doesn’t take any prisoners, does she?’ Jordan whispers to me.
I stifle a laugh, nudging his leg with mine beneath the table.
‘Anyway,’ Fred continues, ‘me and this lad here have been mates for over twenty years and I never thought I’d see the day he managed to convince a girl to marry him.’
Oof, it’s so awkward.
‘And now he’s got Hannah,’ Fred continues. ‘So he’s probably going to spend his weekends at IKEA, and we all know what that means, right?’
I really don’t think we do. I don’t think anyone does. And hilariously he carries on his speech without telling us.
Jordan and I giggle together like a couple of school kids at the back of the coach on a school trip.
I smile to myself, despite the car crash happening at the top table, because I feel like I have a partner in crime.
Someone who sees things the way I do. Who finds the same things funny.
Who I know will always make everything fun.
I wouldn’t be having such a good time with anyone else today.
Definitely not with Ben, who was originally supposed to be my plus one.
Ben never really got me – I never really got him either though.
He never laughed at jokes – or even pretended to.
He’d sit through a speech like this and probably check the score of something on his phone, holding it just below the table so no one saw, oblivious to the fact everyone could tell what he was doing and probably thought he was a tosser.
Jordan is different. He’s here nudging me, whispering jokes in my ear, and making what is frankly the worst best man speech in history feel like something I’ll remember forever – for good reasons though. I couldn’t ask for a better partner in crime, could I?
When it’s finally over, we’re all allowed to mingle. People disperse, buying drinks, dancing – now the party can finally start.
My parents drift over to where we’re standing at the bar, both grinning at us, unable to hide how happy they are.
Dad smacks Jordan on the back in that way dads do when they approve of the man their daughter is seeing.
‘And to think, we weren’t sure you were going to show up,’ Dad says with a glint in his eye.
Jordan smiles.
‘I worried I might not make it,’ he replies. ‘I had to get an emergency filling yesterday, after breaking my tooth.’
‘Ah, I know the drill,’ Dad says, grinning at his own dad joke.
To be fair, that was a good one.
Jordan laughs, which earns him points.
I appreciate him making excuses for me, about why he was late. He’s really got my back.
‘So, Jordan, what are you doing for Christmas?’ Mum asks him as she sips her wine. ‘Spending it with family?’
‘No, my parents are total Grinches,’ he replies. ‘They go on a cruise every year to avoid Christmas. I thought about joining them, but… I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right to me. I love Christmas.’
Mum’s eyes flick to me and then back to him, and I already know what’s coming.
‘Well, if you don’t have plans… you’re more than welcome to spend Christmas with us,’ she says casually – although you can tell she’s really hoping he’ll say yes.
I squeeze Jordan’s hand to let him know I’d like that too. He glances at me and smiles.
‘I’d love that,’ he says. ‘Thank you.’
Dad chuckles, lifting his beer.
‘Wait until the end of the night,’ he warns him. ‘See if you still feel the same after you’ve met the entire circus.’
‘Oh, I’m sure I’ll love everyone,’ Jordan says confidently.
Christmas at home is always a bit of a circus, but in the best and most chaotic way.
My mum starts planning in November and pretends she isn’t, which means we spend three weeks eating ‘just a few picky bits’ that she’s absolutely been hoarding since Halloween.
And it’s tradition that my dad, who eats everything put in front of him, complains about how much food my mum has bought.
Between us, and the extended family, it’s not like there’s ever food left over; nothing goes to waste.
Isn’t it funny how dads are usually two sides of a coin – a grumpy old man and a comedian who constantly cracks dad jokes?
You wouldn’t think two personalities could exist in one man, but my dad wears it well.
Every year it’s the same: Gran and Grandad come to stay – always bringing boxes of local biscuits from the island they live on.
Auntie Eleanor comes by with a bottle of sherry ‘just in case anyone fancies one later’ and proceeds to use it as her main form of hydration from the second she arrives until my uncle drives her home.
Hannah brings Samuel now – and Samuel brings Monopoly, which I hate.
I think that man loves Monopoly more than he loves my cousin.
When I was younger, I used to wish we were one of those polished happy families where everyone quietly got along but, to be honest, the friction keeps things spicy.
It makes it easier to hold the ones you love the most the closest. Plus, I might hate Monopoly, but I do love to see Samuel’s face when someone beats him.
There’s something comforting about knowing exactly how the day will unfold. The noise, the warmth, the arguing over who left the Quality Street tin empty except for the toffees – only for some weirdo to pipe up that the only one involving zero chocolate is their favourite. As if.
Having Jordan around for all of that mess – and him not leaving – sounds great to me.
‘Here she is,’ my dad announces as Hannah joins us. She’s been doing the rounds, trying to get to everyone, so I guess it’s finally our turn.
‘Liberty,’ she squeals, giving me a slightly-too-tight hug – she’s definitely making the most of the prosecco. ‘Sorry, I feel like I’ve barely seen you! And you must be Jordan. I’ve heard so much about you. Thank you for coming.’
‘Thanks for inviting me,’ he replies. ‘You look beautiful, by the way. Absolutely stunning.’
Jordan smiles and I could swear Hannah swoons a little. So his charm works on everyone then. She blushes – she’s literally a blushing bride.
‘Well. You can stay,’ she jokes.
Dad drags Jordan into a conversation about something sport-related – and it sounds like he’s holding his own, so that’s a relief. Not that I care about sports but getting used to my dad’s constant chat is easier if you’re invested.
‘He’s great,’ Hannah whispers to me. ‘I’m so happy for you. Especially after everything that happened.’
‘Thanks,’ I reply. ‘I’m really glad I got to be here – for you. And Jordan is right, you look unreal, Han. You deserve every part of this amazing day.’
She squeezes my arm.
‘Whoever I go talk to next isn’t going to be able to top that,’ she tells me before she moves on to the next group.
Just as I’m finishing my drink and trying to decide what to have next, I notice Auntie Eleanor making a determined beeline for us. Oh, joy. This will be the real test for Jordan. I’m practically bracing.
‘Liberty,’ she says. ‘I feel like we’ve barely spoken since this morning…’
We haven’t spoken at all since this morning.
‘Hi, Auntie Eleanor.’ I smile, trying to show her that I come in peace. ‘Have you met Jordan?’
‘Not yet.’ She turns to him like she’s about to give him a performance review. ‘So. What do you do, Jordan?’
‘I work in tech,’ he tells her. ‘Dating apps – I’m just about to launch a new one actually.’
‘Another one?’ she says, eyebrows raised. ‘Isn’t the market saturated?’
‘Name five,’ I suggest.
‘Possibly,’ Jordan tells her, not giving her a chance to react to my remark. ‘But we’re trying to do things differently. Safer. Smarter. More honest.’
Auntie Eleanor makes a vaguely approving noise – or maybe her huge hat is just cutting off the blood flow to her brain.
‘And what are your intentions with our Liberty?’ she asks him.
Our Liberty? It’s not like her to take ownership of me.
‘I’m really enjoying her company,’ Jordan tells her, happy to answer the question. ‘She makes me laugh, she keeps me on my toes, and every day I spend with her, I want to know more.’
Auntie Eleanor stares at him – I don’t know if she’s doubting his word or maybe she’s simply struggling to believe that anyone could feel that way about me.
‘Well, good luck to you both,’ she says.
And with that vague threat of a blessing, she leaves as quickly as she appears.
As soon as she’s out of earshot, Jordan leans in to my ear.
‘Good job I didn’t tell her my actual intentions,’ he replies. ‘Not for tonight, anyway.’
‘I’m looking forward to finding out what those are,’ I reply as I plant a kiss on his cheek.
His smile widens, and I rest my head briefly on his shoulder, thinking – for maybe the millionth time today – that I’m so happy he turned up.
Eventually the lights dim just enough and the band starts playing the kind of jazzy Christmas covers that make you feel like you’re in a festive romcom.
Jordan takes my hand.
‘Shall we dance?’ he suggests.
‘Why not?’ I reply.
He leads me out onto the dance floor and we sway slowly under the fairy lights, my cheek against his chest, his warm hands on my waist. It’s one of those moments that you wish could last forever.
‘So,’ he says quietly. ‘Have you thought any more about my job proposal? Still happy to take it?’
‘What can I say? I love working for you,’ I reply. ‘What about… everything else?’
‘As far as I’m concerned, everything else is great,’ he tells me. ‘We’ll figure it all out together. As long as I’m with you, I’ve got what I want.’
‘Me too,’ I say.
‘I’ve never felt like this about anyone, not this quickly,’ he says. ‘I know it’s early days, but I’m excited to see where it takes us.’
‘So am I,’ I say, snuggling closer to him.
I feel fixed – as cringe as that sounds. Complete again. But while this might be the end of the story about how we got together, really it’s the beginning of the story of us. We’re only on the first page. Neither of us knows what the future holds, but we’re walking into it together.