everywhere. A symbol of good luck and eternal love, she thought.
She took the bouquet from Ashleigh and held it safely during the ceremony, and she had to blink back the tears as Ashleigh and Luke exchanged their vows, this time in front of everyone. She glanced at Sean, who was standing beside her, and was pleased to see that for once he was misty-eyed, too. And so he should be, on Ashleigh’s wedding day, she thought, and she looked away before he caught her staring at him.
Everyone cheered when the celebrant said, ‘You may now kiss the bride,’ and Luke bent Ashleigh back over his arm to give her a show-stopping kiss.
‘Let them have it, guys,’ Sammy called as Ashleigh and Luke started to walk back down the aisle, and the confetti made from white dried flower petals flew everywhere.
Once the formal photographs had been taken, waiters came round carrying trays filled with glasses of Prosecco. Ashleigh and Luke headed the line-up to welcome their guests; and then, finally, it was time for the meal. Ashleigh had chosen a semi-traditional top table layout, so Claire as the chief bridesmaid was at one end, next to Luke’s father. As Sean was standing in for the bride’s father, he was at the other end, between Ashleigh and Luke’s mother. And there were enough people between them, Claire thought, for them to be able to smile and hide their relief at not having to make small talk.
It was an amazing table, under a pergola draped with white wisteria. Woven in between the flowers were glass baubles, which caught the light from the tea-light candles set in similar glass globes on the table, and reflected again in the mirrored finish of the table. The sun was already beginning to set, and Claire had never seen anything so romantic in her life. And the whole thing was topped off by the traditional Neapolitan guitar and mandolin duo who played and sang softly during the meal.
If she ever got married, Claire thought, this was just the kind of wedding she’d want, full of love and happiness and so much warmth.
Finally, after the excellent coffee and tiny rich Italian desserts, it was time for the speeches. Luke’s was sweet and heartfelt, Tom’s made everyone laugh, but Sean’s made her blink back the tears.
He really did love Ashleigh. And, for that, Claire could forgive the rest.
The cake—a spectacular four-tier confection, which Claire knew held four different flavours of sponge—was cut, and then it was time for the dancing.
Ashleigh and Luke had chosen a song for their bridal dance that always put a lump in her throat—‘Make You Feel My Love’—and she watched them glide across the temporary dance floor. The evening band played it in waltz time, and Claire knew that Luke had been taking private lessons; he was step-perfect as he whirled Ashleigh round in the turns. The perfect couple.
Tradition said that the best man and the chief bridesmaid danced together next, and Claire liked Tom very much indeed; she was pleased to discover that he was an excellent dancer and her toes were perfectly safe with him.
‘I love the dresses,’ Tom said. ‘If I wasn’t gay, I’d so date you—a woman who can create such utter beauty. You’re amazing, Claire.’
She laughed and kissed his cheek. ‘Aww, you’re such a sweetie, Tom. Thank you. But I wouldn’t date you because I have terrible taste in men—and you’re far too nice to be one of my men.’
He laughed. ‘Thank you, sweetie. You’ll find the right guy some day.’
‘If I could find someone who’d make me as happy as Luke makes Ash,’ she said softly, ‘I’d consider myself blessed.’
‘Me, too,’ Tom said. ‘And the other way round. They’re perfect for each other.’
‘They certainly are,’ she said with a smile, though at the same time there was a nagging ache in her heart. Would she ever find someone who’d make her happy, or was she always destined to date Mr Wrong?
* * *
Sean knew it was his duty—as the man who’d given the bride away—to dance with the chief bridesmaid at some point. For a second, he stood watching Claire as she danced with Luke’s father. She was chatting away, looking totally at ease. And then Sean registered what the band was playing: ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’. He was shocked to realise that it was true: he couldn’t take his eyes off Claire.
Which was absolutely not a good thing.
Claire Stewart was the last woman he wanted to get involved with.
And yet he had to acknowledge that he was drawn to her. There was something about her. He couldn’t pin it down, which annoyed him even more—he couldn’t put his feelings in a pigeonhole, the way he usually did. And that made her dangerous. He needed to stay well away from her.
Though, for tonight, he had to do the expected thing and make the best of it.
As the song came to an end, he walked over. ‘I guess we need to play nice for Ashleigh.’
‘I guess,’ she said.
Even as the words came out of his mouth, he knew he was saying the wrong thing, but he couldn’t stop himself asking, ‘So is one of your awful boyfriends joining you later?’
‘If that’s your idea of nice,’ Claire said, widening her eyes in what looked like annoyance, ‘I’d hate to see how caustic your idea of snippy would be.’
He grimaced, knowing that he was in the wrong this time. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have put it quite like that.’
‘Not if you were being nice. Though,’ she said, ‘I do admit that I have a terrible taste in men. I always seem to pick Mr Wrong.’ She shrugged. ‘And the answer’s no, nobody’s joining me. I’m happily single right now. And I’m way too busy at work right now to get involved with someone.’
Was that her way of telling him she wasn’t interested? Or was she just giving him the facts?
Her perfume wasn’t one he recognised; it was something mysterious and deep. Maybe that was what was scrambling his brain, rather than her nearness. Scrambling his brain enough to make him think that she was the perfect fit. The way she felt, in his arms...
‘So isn’t one of your sweet-but-temporary girlfriends joining you later?’ Claire asked.
Ouch. Though Sean knew he deserved the question. He’d started it. ‘No. Becca and I broke up three months ago. And I’m busy at work.’ Which was his usual excuse for ending a relationship before things started to get too close.
‘Two peas in a pod, then, us,’ she said with a grin.
‘I always thought we were chalk and cheese.’
She laughed. ‘I was going to say oil and vinegar. Except they actually go together.’
‘And we don’t,’ Sean said. ‘So would you be the vinegar or the oil?’
‘Difficult to say. A bit of both, really,’ she said. ‘I make things go smoothly for my clients. But I’m sharp with people who have an attitude problem. You?’
‘Ditto,’ he said.
This was weird.
They
