CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
The rest of the wedding blurs as Chris deposits me at the back of the church and he slots back into the front pew, resumes his seat and then stands when told to, passes the rings to his brother and Victoria, who place them adoringly on each other’s fourth fingers.
Then we sit, we stand, we sing and I’m here without being here, in a cloud of my own happiness until I find myself being swept along outside with the other guests, walking into the sunlight and the temperate, lulling heat of the churchyard. Now that we’re in the open, Scarlet demands a full debrief (there was only so much I could convey silently with my eyes and my wide smile) and I tell her everything that passed between Chris and me, as we’re directed to throw confetti. The photographer snaps away and, when he’s finished, guests break away to talk and offer congratulations. Scarlet squeals with excitement as I tell her that Chris and I are … I don’t know what Chris and I are, but it’s certainly not what we were before. I look across to where he’s talking to his brother, his gaze finding its way over to me every now and again, and his wide, knowing smile matches my own.
And then Scarlet says she’s going to thank Victoria on my behalf for casting Chris free and shacking up with his brother, so that he and I could come back to each other.
‘Please don’t do that,’ I say, flying with happiness, when only an hour earlier I was sinking in misery. ‘Not on her wedding day, for God’s sake. Save that chat for another day.’
‘No, I’m going to,’ Scarlet says and scurries off.
And there Chris is, next to me again. It’s as if the world has grown silent, and although there’s the jubilant noise of a wedding crowd in full confetti-throwing mode, I barely notice. It’s as if it’s only Chris and me. His fingers find mine and he looks down at our hands. His smile reaches his eyes, making them crinkle in a way I hadn’t realised I’d missed.
‘Hello again,’ he says softly, his gaze thick with meaning.
‘Hello,’ I reply in a tone that matches his. ‘Fancy meeting you here.’
‘Go on then, how much of this did you have on your bingo grid?’ he starts with.
‘Ha! None of that, I can assure you.’
‘Oh, I had all of it. I’ve won then.’
I smile, his hand finds mine and then he kisses me.
‘Big Talk round seven,’ Chris says.
‘How do you know we’re on that number?’ I query. ‘Or are you just chancing that I won’t call you on it?’
‘I worked it out,’ he says, pulling me towards him and stroking my bare arm absent-mindedly.
‘Really?’ I ask, attempting not to be distracted as his hand moves up and down my arm deliciously, over and over again.
His eyebrows lift and he nods. ‘Really. I replayed every conversation we had, every Big Talk and every minute I was with you, and I worked out we’re on round seven, although I think there were a lot of unofficial Big Talks in between, and we didn’t bother labelling them.’
‘I’ll have to take your word for it.’ He still has the same effect on me that he had that first night I met him three years ago.
‘I never thought I’d see you again,’ he says. ‘And I can’t tell you how desperately sad that made me.’
‘Likewise,’ I answer honestly. ‘My heart did all kinds of things when I first saw you today. I thought I’d lost you for ever.’
‘How do you think I felt?’ Chris asks. ‘I couldn’t believe you were here. I’d been thinking about you so much, but I assumed you were still with Josh, so I kept out of the way. And then there you were. I thought I was losing my mind. But you looked as shocked as I was.’
‘I was shocked to see you at the front of the church, let’s put it that way.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he teases. ‘Married at thirty, divorced by forty. Plus, remember I’m massively behind age-wise. It’s not too surprising, surely.’
‘I’m so pleased it wasn’t you getting married,’ I say.
‘Is that a massive understatement?’
I laugh. ‘I’m ecstatic it wasn’t you getting married. Is that better?’
‘Yes,’ he says, inching even closer to me.
‘You running out of the church like that was very impulsive,’ I point out.
‘And not at all like me,’ he agrees. ‘I’m only ever impulsive when it comes to you.’
My face forms a smile. ‘That’s not a bad thing.’ I glance around. ‘What do we do now?’ I ask.
‘I think we should enjoy the wedding reception, I think we should talk Big Talk all night long, I think you should dance with me—’
‘And kiss you hard during the erection section?’
He chuckles, reminded of his own words. ‘And kiss me really hard during the erection section. And then …’
I watch him thinking. But it’s my turn to ask Chris what he once asked me so long ago. And so I say it. ‘Come with me,’ I dare.
‘Where?’ he asks, but he’s looking at me with an intense good humour, so I can see it doesn’t matter. I could say somewhere miles away, such as Nova Scotia, and he’d agree.
‘Edinburgh, where I currently live.’
I watch his face spring towards shock. ‘You live in Edinburgh?’
‘Yep. Or we could go back to London, if you’re still there …’ I continue. ‘Dublin, New York. I don’t mind.’
‘I don’t mind, either,’ Chris says genuinely. I’d go with you anywhere, Lexie. I’m not letting you go ever again.’
‘Neither am I,’ I tell him, kissing him in the middle of the churchyard. ‘Neither am I.’