Chapter 30
VIOLET
THE LAST WEEK BEFORE THE wedding goes by in a blink.
Alba, Rose, Florence, and I have spent nearly every day together, doing the final rounds to make sure everything is ready for the big day. Flowers, dresses, programs, figuring out who has to be where at what time, and who’s doing what. Part of me thrives at being back in this kind of role.
Florence and Alistair are getting married at the church in Iona, and then we’re going back to the bed and breakfast for the reception.
We have a company coming to set up a giant tent in the yard first thing tomorrow morning for the party.
Alba and I spent all of yesterday hanging string lights around the property.
While the cabins are all full this week, Alba’s made sure it’s only wedding guests here now, including Rose’s parents and a cabin for Finn and Alistair’s mom, so the newlyweds can have some privacy at their own home.
Finn and Alistair have also been busy with their own wedding prep, as well as building a new dock at the lake house.
Finn apparently asked Florence about a wedding gift, and she had begged him to help his brother build the replacement wharf.
It sounds like Alistair accepted the help a little begrudgingly.
But despite the busy days, often not spent together, every evening without fail, Finn knocks softly on my cabin door, begging me to let him try again to beat me at Scrabble.
He hasn’t won yet, and some smug part of me is pleased that he hasn’t been able to do it. It keeps him coming back every night, after all.
He always makes us each a wee cuppa tea, as he calls it, and we recount our days, like some old married couple. I make a point to fully dissociate from the wonderful, addicting feeling of having a person to relay all these things to every night.
This morning, all of us went down to the church for the ceremony rehearsal. When I had walked down the aisle with Finn, he had run his hand up my arm once, in a slow, deliberate stroke. A gentle hey, Violet and an assurance that he had me.
For the rest of the morning, I’d shivered every time I thought of that touch.
After Alba drives Finn and I back to the bed and breakfast, she stops us before we start heading back to our cabins.
Hang on you two, she says, I have a favour to ask.
What’s up, Albs?
Well, she starts, glancing between Finn and I, I’ve been thinking it would be a good idea if my dad stayed at one of the cottages tonight and tomorrow night. He’s been a stubborn ass about wanting to stay at his own place, but I’ve finally worn him down.
She pauses, seeing the look of confusion on our faces, and I can tell she’s fighting to keep a smirk off her face.
I’m down a cabin, she explains. But I figured since you two are together now, it shouldn’t be a problem if you shared a room. Her eyes tell me everything—she knows there’s something here that she can’t quite put her finger on, and now she’s finally calling our bluff.
Obviously tonight, Vi, you’ll be over at my place with Flora. Florence wanted to follow the tradition of spending the night before the wedding apart, so it’s another girls-only sleepover tonight. But tomorrow I’m wondering if you two wouldn’t mind shacking up.
I feel my spine tense, my eyes darting over to Finn, who looks to me with a gaze that says simply, It’s up to you Violet.
I know I could tell Alba the truth, that this was all a lie, and Finn would be fine with it. My heart sinks at this—that he would be all right for someone else to know this thing between us wasn’t real. He and Alba would probably laugh about it, make jokes. The thought makes me a little queasy.
I will look back on this years later, I think to myself, and still not be able to see the humour in it. It will sit within me like a raw, festering thing, locked up with hoarded memories of childhood bullies and getting fired from my job. Something so sensitive I have to keep it buried down deep.
I can’t bear to have this secret out in the open, so instead I force a smile onto my face, determined to see this out to the bitter end. That’s no problem, I’ll move my things over to Finn’s now.
She looks at me for a long moment, then only nods before turning to head back to her place.
Finn follows me into my cabin. He runs a hand through his hair, and exhales loudly—radiating stress.
You don’t have to do this Violet, he says, sounding stressed, too.
It’s fine, I say, waving him off.
Don’t say that. Someone else might interpret the snapping tone as him looking for a fight. But I know Finn better than that. Why do you do that Violet? Say things are fine when they’re not? Sometimes you can just bloody say, ‘Actually this is a total fucking shite-fest.’
I shrug, and try to make myself sound as flippant as possible. In this case, it is fine. I’m not looking at him when I say it though, and he comes closer, gently lifting up my chin to look at him. I feel a wave of anxiety crash through me at the forced eye contact.
He searches my face. Well it will be fine, because I’ll get a sleeping bag from my brother’s place and sleep on the floor.
I snort. Finn, we are two adults. The bed is huge, and it’s only for one night. We can share and it will be fine. He searches my face again, and I am all too aware of the zip that goes up my spine.
You’re certain?
Am I certain that it will be the most painfully charged night’s sleep I’ve ever had?
Yes, I say, smiling in that reassuring way that I don’t think fools him.
But I can’t help the thought that clangs through me: only one bed.