to get her wedding right. And it explains the torture lurking in his eyes and makes me understand why his laughter so often tails away to nothing. ‘And this is why it’s all got to be perfect?’
He’s nodding. ‘She’s so brave and she never complains. After everything she’s been through …’
I cut in as he swallows. ‘Don’t worry, you’ve already bagged her the princess castle; we’re going to give her the most amazing day.’ I reach across, put my hand over his, and squeeze. And I wish with all my heart I could do more.
His eyes pull into focus. ‘She’d never have been a typical bride, even when her legs did work. No offence, but she’d have a fit at most of the gear at your fairs.’
I’m biting back my smile, getting exactly what he means. ‘Napkins folded like swans aren’t for everyone.’ I laugh. ‘Don’t worry, there’s lots of choice for the chilled-out bride. We’ll stick to nachos and jumpsuits.’
He slumps back against the bench. ‘It’s a relief we’ve sorted that out.’ It’s not clear if he’s talking about Pixie’s aversion to wedding paraphernalia or the fact she can’t walk. Worse still, somehow my hand’s still on his and now he’s squeezing mine back. ‘I know you’ve got this, Milla Vanilla. There’s no one in the world I’d trust more with this.’
Which he could inadvertently be right about, although he has no idea why. And it might be great for him, but for me the stress just went off the scale. With my record lately, I’ve had a lot more stuff-ups than successes, and he’s just given me every reason why this has to be absolutely flawless. And wonderful. The kind of faultless that’s got my heart racing already. In fact, my mind’s galloping so fast, I already know I’ll barely have time to sleep between now and then.
And as I can’t afford to miss a single detail, I have to check. ‘So is there anything else you haven’t told me? Anything more I need to know?’
I mean, for two months I had no idea who the groom was and now I find out the bride is in a wheelchair. It might not be deliberate, but Nic does have a habit of concealing vital information.
He rubs his chin. ‘No, I reckon that’s you fully briefed and up to speed.’ His lips slide into a smile as he pushes himself up to standing. ‘Shall I get cooking, then?’
‘Cooking?’ It comes out as a scream. ‘There’s no time to eat, Nic, we’ve got a wedding to sort out!’
MAY
Chapter 25
Tuesday, the next week.
At the camper van on St Aidan harbour.
Comfort zones and clean breaks.
‘What the hell is going on?’
Arriving at the harbour with half an hour to spare before meeting up with Nic, mostly I’m trying to remember where I left the camper. As I finally spot it along the quay edge by a stack of fishing nets, the last thing I expect to find next to it is the guy himself at the top of a stepladder on the cobbles between the side of the van and the water. As he wipes his hands on his jeans and turns around, I can’t help smiling at the smudges of pink paint on his backside.
He’s resting his elbows on the roof and he sounds just as perplexed as me. ‘More importantly, what the hell are you doing running around the harbourside waving a cordless vacuum and asking awkward questions when you should be at the shop, Milla? Our meeting isn’t until ten.’
‘I’m here for a quick tidy.’ Believe me, those words don’t often come out of my mouth naturally, but this is the new super-energised version of me – the upcoming fairs and Pixie’s big day are working like a mahoosive kick up the bum. ‘What’s your excuse? And it’d better be good, Trendell! You can’t just clamber all over people’s expensive paint jobs without asking. And you’re horribly close to the edge of the quay too!’
When he holds up his hands it’s obvious where the pink paint on his jeans has come from. ‘You know I like to live dangerously.’ He lets a grin slide out.
I give a snort. ‘If this is your idea of banter, it’s not very funny.’
He stares over the top of the van for a second, then looks down at me again. ‘It was meant to be a surprise. I’m doing the rooftop makeover you were asking about in time for Sunday’s wedding fair.’
I’m blinking at the bright