more champagne? I think there’s another bottle in the fridge.’
Molly groaned. ‘Give me a break.’ She felt as if she had been mugged by a froth of organza and baby’s breath. She pushed the pile of magazines and notes and torn-out pages to one side of the kitchen table and slumped forward, head on hands.
‘Thank God she’s gone.’
‘You were brilliant.’ Nick grinned. ‘Don’t flag now – I’ve got a night of wild passion planned. Blindfolds, baby oil, furry handcuffs.’
His grin held until Molly laughed.
Nick aped rejection. ‘Don’t tell me; what you really want is a hot bath, and an early night?’
‘What would I do without you?’ asked Molly.
Nick considered the possibility for a moment. ‘Have all of the duvet yourself and get to watch what you want on the TV?’
Molly nodded. ‘There is that. You know that the next few weeks are going to be total hell, don’t you? And this is even before my nearest and dearest start moaning that they haven’t got an invitation or it’s too far away or on the wrong day.’
‘You’ve done the guest list already?’
Molly pulled a sheet of paper out from the pile. ‘More or less. Actually I don’t think there is much we haven’t taken a stab at.’
Nick moved behind her and rubbed her neck and shoulders, thumbs working into a great raft of knots and creaks, making Molly groan with a mixture of pain and relief.
‘Any woman who can deal with a juggling bear can cope with organising a wedding.’ He pulled Molly’s notebook back across the table and scanned down the list. ‘Registry office, followed by a humanist wedding at Vanguard Hall, wedding dress by Helen, invitations by Jess, Max’s mum to organise the cake, a ceilidh, food, photos and bar TBA.’ He paused. ‘There, you see. Fantastic. You’ve already done most of it.’
Molly looked up at him, loving his naïve optimism. ‘That’s provisional. We’ve got about a million other things to organise.’
Nick bent down and kissed her tired, weary lips. ‘TBA,’ he said. ‘Piece of cake.’
Which sparked something deep in Molly’s fuddled brain. ‘Oh God, yes, cake,’ she said, grabbing a pen and pulling the notebook towards her. ‘I’ve got to buy cake boxes to send to the people who can’t come.’
Max arrived at Jess’s cottage at around the same time as she did; the difference being that Max looked fresh as a daisy, was freshly shaved and was carrying a huge bunch of flowers and a helium balloon, whereas Jess had Bassa, a bag full of wedding magazines and the makings of a really good headache.
‘I’ve come to say that I’m sorry,’ he said, as she locked up her car and headed inside. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you today.’
Jess waved the words away and carried on walking. ‘You didn’t upset me, Max, you lied to me, there’s a huge difference. ’
She dipped into her pocket to retrieve her house keys, getting tangled up with her bag and Bassa’s expanding lead as she did.
‘Here, do you want me to take Bas and your bag?’ he offered as she struggled to unlock the front door.
‘No, you’re fine. It’ll take longer than doing it myself.’
He leaned in closer. ‘I didn’t think you’d understand.’
Jess sighed. ‘You didn’t give me the chance to understand. And since when have I been the kind of person that flies off the handle?’
Max held the flowers out towards her. ‘Pax?’ he said. They were her favourites, sunflowers and the purplest of purple irises.
Jess smiled despite herself and shook her head. She had already got her hands well and truly full with the bag and the dog. ‘Max, the flowers are lovely but for future reference, please just tell me the truth, even if it hurts, rather than any number of lies. If you had told me about going to see your mum and dad I would have been fine about it.’
They stood awkwardly in the hallway, Bassa eager to be in, Jess half in and half out of her door, Max still holding the flowers out in front of him like a shield.
‘I’m sorry. I know it’s ancient history but my ex, Lucy, was always jealous of how well I got on with my parents,’ Max said. ‘She was always telling me that I neglected her.’
‘Well, I’m not Lucy,’ said Jess. ‘And I’m close to my parents too.’
‘Is it all right if I come in?’ he asked. Jess hesitated, just long enough for him to look uncomfortable.
‘I thought you were going to have an early night. Didn’t you tell me that you’d got to be in to work by five today and tomorrow?’ said Jess, in a low voice.
Max looked contrite. ‘Just tomorrow. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I don’t have to stay if you don’t want me to. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Really – I’m crap at relationships. ’
He looked so deflated that Jess stood to one side. ‘Come on in. Just don’t lie to me again. All right?’
He kissed her. ‘Okay.’ As he stepped past her Max switched on the lights and then bent down to unclip Bassa, who belted off into the kitchen. ‘He looks pleased to be home. How did it go with your mother?’
Jess lifted a hand to silence him. ‘Wait, while we’re on the subject of the truth, Max, I need to be honest with you too.’ Now she had all his attention.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked, looking anxious.
Jess reached into her pocket and pulled out the little pouch with her engagement ring in it. ‘I’ve been trying to think of ways to tell you without hurting your feelings.’
Max’s face turned ashen. ‘What?’ he murmured and Jess realised with a start that he thought she was giving him back his ring, changing her mind. Her expression softened.
‘Don’t look so worried,’ she said gently. ‘I was only wondering if you would mind if we changed my engagement ring?’
Max sighed with what she guessed was relief. ‘What, is it too big? I thought it fitted perfectly?’
‘It does, but it’s just that I’m not very keen on the design. It’s quite big and cumbersome, and I’d really like to have a ring I want to wear all the time. It would be nice to have something that we’d chosen together. Don’t you think?’
‘Oh,’ he said, sounding a bit put out. ‘But I thought you really liked it.’
Jess wasn’t quite sure what to say next; she had rather assumed that Max’s reaction would be something along the lines of okay, sure – let’s go and change it, not to have to justify why she didn’t like it.
‘It’s not my kind of thing. The design I mean,’ she said, feeling increasingly awkward. ‘And it’s a bit big for my hands, don’t you think?’ She spread her fingers to
