Love at the Little Wedding Shop by the Sea - Jane Linfoot Page 0,104

back in organiser mode. ‘Can I get you some dry clothes? Or some elderflower cordial?’

Phoebe’s squeezing out the dripping rat tails of her hair. ‘Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage for one day, Milla? We’ll leave you to your sex-crazed fiancé. See you when you get back home to Bristol.’

On the upside, the reek of pond algae is totally overpowering every bit of Nic’s heady scent as he comes to put his arm around me.

There’s an unconscious jarring in my head when I hear the words home and Bristol. And in a way, Phoebe’s right – guests in the pond is another spectacular catastrophe to add to my list. But this is one I’m extraordinarily happy to live with, in a wouldn’t-have-missed-it-for-the-world kind of way. Ben’s shout brings me back to earth.

‘Hurry up, Phoebe, we don’t want to get any more contaminated.’ He’s already by the doors. If it wasn’t for Hunter and the Starship Enterprise pram, I suspect he’d have vaulted the wall in his rush to get them all out to the car park.

I’m calling after Phoebe as she struts. ‘Whatever! We’re definitely waiting until we’re married to have sex, but he’s the whole package … and he owns a shipping line.’ Not that I care but Phoebe will.

Nic coughs. ‘It’s more of a navigation agency, remember?’

As she gouges a new trail of heel marks across the lawn I’m shouting after her. ‘And he’s spending humungous amounts on the wedding too.’ I haven’t claimed it as mine, so it isn’t a lie. I’m still going, cupping my hands as she reaches the building. ‘This is the bit where you say you hope we’ll be very happy …’

As I turn back, Immie’s standing, hands on her hips and beaming. ‘I’ve waited my whole life to see you stand up for yourself. Good job, Mills.’

Poppy’s laughing at me. ‘Yay to that. You certainly gave her plenty to think about there.’

I’m feeling slightly guilty now. ‘I didn’t mean them to fall in the pond. And I hope it hasn’t wrecked the wedding fair.’

Immie delivers the thump to my back I was waiting for. ‘But I’m damned pleased they did.’ She’s chortling to herself. ‘You should have seen her face when she toppled. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see get a soaking.’

Poppy’s smiling. ‘I’ve got a feeling all the people Phoebe rammed on her way out here will be very happy too.’

Nic’s giving me a nudge from the other side. ‘Not that I’m trying to get you naked yet again, Milla, but you seem to be pretty wet too. I’ve got towels in the car and some spare jeans and T-shirts. You’re welcome to borrow them.’

I’m running through the alternatives in my head. ‘It’s either that or a visit to the bridesmaid’s rail.’ I send Poppy a wink. ‘Thinking about last time I raided the Bridesmaid’s Beach Hut for Valentine’s Day sequins, I’ll maybe take you up on the T-shirt, Nic.’

Nic’s face brightens. ‘The little pink mini-dress – that was another bridesmaid’s dress I liked. We might want to note that in the file.’ Then he shakes his head and blinks. ‘Sorry, I’ll go and get the towels.’

I look beyond Poppy and Immie who both looking like they’re about to pop with laughter. ‘Thanks, Nic, great plan.’

Nic’s halfway across the grass when he turns and grins at me over his shoulder. ‘This might be the part where you tell me you love me, Milla?’

‘In your dreams, Captain Kirk.’ I wave my middle finger at him. Then I remember how he’s helped me wipe the floor with Phoebe. ‘Okay, I give in, I totally do.’ I turn to Poppy and Immie and give them my sternest stare. ‘And you two – it’s a towel, nothing more.’

And then, very firmly, I tell myself the same.

But there’s another thing too. My mum was a strong, independent single parent. After an upbringing like that, the last person I’d turn to in trouble is a man. So letting Nic help me fight my battles really isn’t my style. But just this once, I have to secretly admit how great it was to have a prince on a charger on my team. So long as I don’t let it happen too often.

Chapter 29

Tuesday.

Jaggers Bar, St Aidan.

Sand between the toes and bottomless lemonade.

‘Your wedding fairs do work, don’t they?’

This is Nic, musing as we sit on the beachside terrace at Jagger’s Bar, where we’re sipping our cocktails, nibbling our on-trend snacks, and watching a tangerine sun