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Fuck me, he’s a looker.
Forget that smart black suit. Forget the beard that is so much neater than mine. His gaze has a wild edge, and wildness has always done it for me.
It conjures cliffs and tors and moorland.
Spells sleeping under stars with nothing but the beat of my bruised heart for music.
Most of all, it magics up hope that I’ll somehow get to stay here. That is even more unlikely now everyone knows I didn’t have the grit to reach my potential, even if they don’t know why.
Luke Lawson saves me from blurting that shameful confession. “Finn, your family will want the same as Hayden’s. To be here for you in good times and bad.” That’s only part of my story, but he mentions what I suppose must have sent that bride running. “You couldn’t have predicted your wedding venue would go bankrupt with no warning. That you’d have nowhere for your guests to stay or to hold your celebration.”
Ah, shit.
Luke winces along with me before adding. “Getting that news during your rehearsal was far from optimal, but flowers and food only make a wedding. Willow knows what is truly important.”
“The marriage?”
I nod like Luke does at Finn’s answer, then I nod again as he keeps going.
“I-I know that flowers and food don’t matter.” He takes a staggering breath, which is all too familiar. This is what someone digging deep to play through his pain sounds like, and I wish I didn’t know that. Playing through my own only led to worse hurt in the long run, but maybe this groom really has got more grit than me and isn’t done yet.
It sounds that way when he says, “We both know the marriage is the important part, not all of our savings going down the drain. It’s just that Willow’s heart was… is…” He glances in the direction I last saw his bride run, and his swallow might be a dry click but he digs deep again. “I let her go because she said she had a way to solve it. Willowalwaysfinds a way. Nothing stops her when she knows what she wants.”
No one argues with him. He still does what my very first coach drilled into my team at training sessions—if I was under attack in goal, Dad said their job was to protect me. This guy is just as quick to come to his fiancée’s defence.
“Not because she’s some kind of bridezilla.”
“Of course not,” Luke agrees. “Willow couldn’t be even if she tried.” He gives an example. “Remember when I took on the school headship? I didn’t have time for two homesick gap-year students, but what did both of you do?” He answers his own question. “You and Willow threw yourselves into helping me through the toughest weeks of my professional life.” He points away from the chapel towards where the woods are thickest. “And you were part of the search party when little Tor Trelawney got lost, remember?”
Finn nods, a smile almost flickering.
“He isn’t so little these days,” Luke says, “but I’ll never forget who stayed behind to make sure the rest of my youngest students weren’t frightened while you helped scour the woods for him.”
Now Finn’s voice turns strangled. “Willow.”
Luke nods. “And I’ve never forgotten her kindness with the little ones that day, either. With everyone. I’m sure the years since haven’t changed that aspect of her. Of course she isn’t a bridezilla. She knows we’ll help to make the best of it right here. We can definitely feed your guests in the dining hall. I only wish the school could be prettier for your photos.” He looks back as if he can see the scaffolding that has surrounded the main building all summer. “The main issue will be bedrooms. Some of the sixth-form students are already back, so I can’t host anyone in the boarding houses.”
I see Finn nod, his shoulders hunching again, and that should be a signal for me to leave them to their problem-solving. I even make a start on that by retreating, until I’m stopped by dark eyes studying me as if I’m a puzzle, not an ex-footballing fuckup, then I’m distracted by Finn’s next statement.
“Willow only ever wanted to come back to Cornwall.”
It was that simple for me as well.
When my world ended, running home was all I’d wanted, even if the house I grew up in no longer held my nearest and dearest.
Finn’s voice strengthens. “You know, we thought about getting married in California or in Australia, but either location meant travel for our families. Willow wanted the wedding here because it’s where I asked her to marry me.”
Luke can look forbidding with all of those deep forehead furrows. He’s a different person when he’s delighted. “You proposed here? At Glynn Harber?” And yeah, he loves this placetoo, right down to his marrow. Call me a sap, but I recognise that bone-deep connection with bricks and mortar. With deep roots and with safe havens.
“Almost,” Finn says. He points in the direction of the moors beyond this woodland. “I actually popped the question on the top of High Tor while we watched the sun set over the sea.” He lets out a soft snort, and yeah, I don’t care if this makes me even more of a sap, but I’ve always been a sucker for a happy ending, so I’m surprised by the turn this story next takes. “And that’s where she turned me down flat.”
I can’t hold back a shocked blurt. “She turned you down?”
I’ve seen this groom with bowed shoulders and recognised crushing disappointment. Heard his voice waver, and remembered being voiceless. Now another voice speaks, and forget sunsets—his bride returns, and Finn’s smile is as bright as any sunrise at her saying, “I told you to ask me again when we knew each other better.”
“Willow.”
Her eyes are rimmed red, her arms scratched by brambles, but at least a wedding dress didn’t get ruined by her sprint through the woods. She’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and has brought reinforcements.
