Chapter Thirty-Two Tom
Chapter Thirty-Two
Tom
Tom had been practicing what he was going to say to Daisy in the back of the taxi. That he knew it was bad timing, but he’d
never forgive himself . . . That he was sorry, but he had to tell her now . . . He had worked himself up into such a frenzy
about it that he was ready to just blurt it out the second she opened the door, before he even took a single photo. Without
realizing it, he’d been holding on to his feelings for so long that the acknowledgment of them had brought them so close to
the surface, they were likely to all come tumbling out with one look at Daisy’s face.
He followed the numbers down the corridor toward the bridal suite, stopping as he saw two women ahead of him, knocking on
the same room he was headed for. Fuck. It was Clara. And beside her must be the internet con artist girlfriend, except . . . Clara’s hand was resting on her bum
and she was leaning against Clara, her head on her shoulder. So maybe . . . not a con artist, after all?
He walked closer, just as the door swung open, and there was Daisy, immediately knocking the breath out of him.
She was in a dress that he’d never have imagined her wearing, but was still perfect on her.
He was pretty sure he’d have thought the same if she’d answered wearing a sack.
Her hair fell in waves around her face, which lit up when she saw him, red lips forming into a smile as her eyes creased in the corners.
His mouth fell immediately dry. He tried to say something and he couldn’t.
All he could do was stare, aware that at some point he needed to close his mouth.
God, she was beautiful. He’d always known it, from the moment he saw her standing under the streetlight, the edges of her face catching the beams. She was beautiful at 4:00 a.m. with her tired eyes and her rotating selection of outfits.
She was beautiful flinging herself around a ceilidh, or laughing at him from a changing room, or leaning back in mock horror as Martha ate some of her ice cream, or even just the back of her as she leaned in to really take in his photography.
Today, she was a different Daisy, and breathtaking in an entirely new way.
Tom ran through how to say any of this, especially in front of these people, but then Daisy disappeared into the bathroom
with Clara and all the words he had for her died on his lips. This was her day, and he couldn’t ruin it.
Instead, with shaking hands, he introduced himself to everyone, trying to play it cool as he met the intriguing Dan with his
curly hair and open face and Daisy’s mother, who had so much light in her eyes. Tom hid the fact he knew everything about
this Leisha person as he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, but as he took her in, it was immediately apparent she was truly
not the catfish Daisy had been expecting.
“She doesn’t seem okay,” Dan whispered to his mum as Tom listened, trying to still the speed at which his heart was racing
as Clara and Daisy stood locked on the other side of the bathroom door.
“I don’t know her,” Leisha said, holding her hands up. “I’ve just met her today, but that doesn’t seem like the face of someone
who can’t wait to get married today.”
“It doesn’t,” Daisy’s mum said, and Tom kept his camera hanging around his neck because, sure, he was there to take photos, but he couldn’t interrupt what was going on to bring that up.
At some point—and this wasn’t his usual style—he was just hoping they’d notice his camera and suggest they pose for him.
Until then he felt his role was probably to stay out of everyone’s way, or, you know, maybe save their daughter, their sister, their friend from marrying the completely wrong guy.
Or at least, that’s what he hoped Zack was.
“She’s seemed different ever since I got back,” Dan said quietly. “Has something happened?”
Daisy’s mum shrugged. “I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything to me.”
Dan snorted. “Well obviously she wouldn’t. Neither of us used to talk to you about anything.”
Tom readied himself for some fight to break out but Daisy’s mum just gave a sad smile. “I know.”
Leisha checked her watch. “Isn’t she supposed to be walking down the aisle right about now?”
Dan looked at his mum. “What do we do? I don’t exactly want to encourage her to get out there, if it isn’t what she wants.
I’m not even sure about the guy myself.”
“Right?” Leisha murmured. “I know Clara is freaking out about him being her therapist, so I guess—”
“I hate to be a dick but I sort of need to walk my sister down the aisle,” Dan said, knocking at the door before turning to
Leisha. “Wait. What?”
“Therapist?” Daisy’s mum said as Tom shuddered involuntarily.
What? Zack was Daisy’s therapist? Was that .
. . lawful? Morally dubious? Surely against some sort of code of conduct, anyway.
She’d never told Tom that, but then why would she?
Why would she tell anyone? Tom thought back through his one meeting with them.
Did he give that impression? Tom had been too focused on how anxious Daisy seemed.
He’d just tried to make it all as quick and easy as possible for her. He didn’t recall much about Zack.
Daisy opened the door and Tom knew it was now or never for him. If he didn’t say something to her, immediately, it would be
too late.
“Okay. Let’s go get married,” Daisy said, and one by one supportive smiles broke out across the faces of everyone waiting.
Everyone except Tom, who was frozen into position, staring ahead.
Dan held his arm out to Daisy, glancing quickly across at their mum, eyes widening. This was it. This was the only chance
Tom would get.
“Wait!” he shouted. “Sorry. Can I just . . .” He held up a finger, everyone in the room turning to stare at him. “I’m so sorry,
I just need a few photos of the bride alone in here before we go. If you’re all okay to just . . .” He nodded toward the door.
If you all could just fuck off for a minute, is what he wanted to say.
Daisy looked from him to the group standing and waiting, and back again.
“It’ll take one minute,” he said, and Clara rallied everyone out with more enthusiasm than Tom had seen on her face all afternoon,
closing the door behind them and leaving them in silence.
He turned to face Daisy, ignoring the double bed beside them with the duvet thrown back. He knew what she looked like at 4:00
a.m., but what did she look like before that, when she first woke up, her head still on the pillow? He wanted to know. He
wanted to know everything about her. She stood before him, her chest rising and falling and her eyes locked on his face.
“My God, Tom, I’m so sorry for what happened on the bus.” She spoke fast, her eyes overly bright.
“Daisy, I—” Tom blurted out at the same time.
They stopped, locking eyes and laughing gently. He licked his lips and reached for her hand. She stared down at their fingers, looking back up and reaching, with her other hand, to the back of her neck.
“You go,” she said, her fingers trembling.
He looked awkwardly toward the bed and back again, closing his eyes to erase the image. It was now or never. He had to.
“Daisy, I’m so sorry to do this to you now. Believe me, if I had realized any sooner, I would not have chosen your wedding
day, but . . .” He swallowed, opening his eyes and fixing them on her. “I broke up with Sophie. I broke up with her before
I even knew that I am completely and utterly in love with you, and if I didn’t tell you now, I would never forgive myself.”
His eyes filled with tears that he wasn’t expecting. He so desperately needed her to understand. “You once said to me that
you felt like we didn’t need words to know what the other was thinking and I see now what you meant by that. I think that
I . . . I could see you every day, or not at all, and it wouldn’t matter. You’re just in me, Daisy, all the time. Your words.
Your gentle way. Your wide eyes as you consider something I’ve said. Your thoughtfulness. Your beauty. Your acceptance of
me. Your strength.” He swallowed, taking a step toward her. He couldn’t read her expression. She was just watching him, motionless.
“The flaws too. Your absolute inability to talk about yourself. The way you wear what’s wrong all over your face, but won’t
speak up about it. Putting other people’s needs ahead of yours so that you’ll sit through an entire ice cream with a child
to make them happy, even if it puts you at risk of harm. The time you gift others, but not yourself. I love you for all of
the things that make you you, and I don’t need to take a single photo of you to see you. I just do. I always have. And I think that you see me too. And
as the great Orlando said,” he went on, before stopping to clear his throat, “‘One can only believe entirely, perhaps, in what one cannot see.’ I believe in all this, Daisy, because I cannot see it. I just feel it. I feel it, and I know that it’s true.”
He paused, watching her face and waiting. He hadn’t got the words exactly as he’d planned them, but it was close enough. It
was the truth, and as Laura had said the other day, everyone deserves the truth.
Daisy let go of Tom’s hand, pressing a forefinger under each eye as she bit down on her lip, her hands trembling. “Tom, I’m
getting married today. I—” She looked around her.
“I’m so sorry,” he said.
“I can’t . . . This isn’t . . . I’m already late.” Her voice was close to a whisper. Shaking, she moved for the door, her
fingers on the handle. She turned back to look at him, eyes wide. “I can’t hear my own voice. I can’t . . . I’ve got to . . .”
She signaled toward the door and he nodded, swallowing.
“Of course. I’ll . . .” He gestured to his camera. “I’ll go out first so I can . . . I’ll get some photos.”
She stepped back toward him, and the scent of her filled him.
“Zack’s a lucky man,” Tom said. “I hope he makes you as happy as you deserve to be. I hope . . .” He had so much more to say
about everything he hoped for Daisy’s future. He thought about how to get it out in one sentence. “I hope he makes your life
as brilliant as you make everyone else’s.” Tom closed his eyes, reached for the door and opened it, walking straight past
the four faces that waited, once again, on the other side.
He walked down the corridor, heart pounding as he turned back to see Daisy on the arm of her brother, standing and waiting
for Tom to start taking photos so she could walk to the man she was choosing to marry. He lifted his camera to his face and
started pressing down on the button, over and over again. Looking down at his screen, a group of slightly flat faces stared
back. He was going to have to become the type of photographer he despised.
“All big smiles,” he said, his voice a higher pitch as he fixed a grin on his own face. He couldn’t look at Daisy because he saw her eyebrows lower before she shook her head and wiped the expression away.
“Perfect,” Tom said, taking some photos. He continued to walk backward ahead of them, pressing down on the shutter and adjusting
his zoom. He wasn’t capturing any of the photos they wanted and he didn’t know what to do about it. It was almost impossible
to now that they were all late, thanks to him. The energy was off and there wasn’t one genuine smile across any of their faces,
including his. Especially his. He’d have to do better at the ceremony.
With every step he took back and away from Daisy, daggers stabbed at his chest. It was a taste of the life he was about to
live; a life without her.
“I’ll run ahead now to grab some of Zack,” he said. “See you at the altar.”
He turned his back on them and ran down the stairs of the hotel and into the outdoor area off reception, where the ceremony
was being held.
First he took a few long distance shots of the white chairs on the lawn and the arch at the end of the aisle, with Zack standing
beside it. Tom grimaced at the sight of him. Her therapist. Could that be true? He had to remain professional and so he held on tighter to his camera, walking closer. Zack turned and
locked eyes with Tom, nodding. He had his hands in his pockets and he was wearing black shoes with navy trousers, which Tom
wasn’t sure about. How could this be the man Daisy had chosen to marry? It didn’t make sense to him, but there was nothing he could do about it. If this man
was who made Daisy happy, he had to support it.
At the sound of footsteps approaching from across the reception, the string quartet started to play the wedding march—yet another string quartet as the backing track to Tom’s heartbreak—and the sparse amount of guests stood up, filling the garden with the standard excitable mutter of voices as they all turned their heads for a sighting of the bride.
Tom moved to stand a little away from the arch, taking a final photo of Zack with the cage of doves beside him before turning to zoom in on Daisy as she walked toward him up the aisle, to marry another man.