At the Wedding

by Matt Dunn

  Miguel opened the box, and Livia peered at the contents. ‘With this watch I thee wed?’ She frowned. ‘It’s not exactly traditional, is it?’

  Jed glanced at the assembled guests. ‘Given the whole nature of this wedding, I didn’t think that would be an issue.’

  Miguel cleared his throat politely. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Jed, please repeat after me: Livia, I give you this ring as a symbol of our commitment to each other.’

  ‘Livia, I give you this ring as a symbol of our commitment to each other.’

  ‘As a sign of our marriage. And as a token of our love and affection.’

  ‘As a sign of our marriage. And as a token of our love and affection.’

  ‘And I call upon all persons present to witness that I, Jed, take you, Livia, to be my wife.’

  ‘And I call upon all persons present to witness that I, Jed, take you, Livia, to be my wife.’

  ‘I promise to love, care and honour you, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.’

  ‘I promise to love, care and honour you, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.’

  Jed’s voice was cracking, and Livia felt her heart swell. At least, she hoped it was that, and not a repeat of her earlier patatas bravas experience.

  ‘And Livia?’ said Miguel. She looked up at Jed. She couldn’t wait to be married to him.

  ‘Ditto,’ she said.

  Jed slipped the ring on her finger, and Livia felt her heart skip a beat. It was as if she’d just crossed the finish line, and it was all she could do to stop herself from punching the air in celebration; instead, she turned to her guests and held her hand up, proudly showing off her ring finger to a smattering of applause. Then she took the watch and slipped it around Jed’s wrist, and clicked the clasp shut.

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sorry – you’ve caught a few hairs . . .’

  Jed reached down and adjusted the bracelet, and Livia rolled her eyes, and Miguel laughed again. ‘Well, in that case, I now pronounce you man and wife.’

  There was a loud sob from behind them – Rachel, Livia guessed, and she told herself it was because her best friend was happy for them. Then Jed took her hand again, and Livia finally knew she’d done the right thing. And hoped he was feeling the same way.

  ‘Is that it?’ Liam asked, and Miguel smiled.

  ‘Not quite,’ he said. ‘You may now kiss the bride.’

  There was a smattering of applause, then: ‘Not you,’ said Jed, as Liam made to elbow him out of the way.

  Chapter 9

  ‘What’s the matter, Liam?’

  Patrick had appeared at his shoulder with a couple of glasses of cava, so Liam took one and downed half of it gratefully. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘That was actually for Izzy.’

  ‘Ah. Sorry,’ said Liam, offering him the glass back.

  ‘Why don’t you keep it?’

  ‘Will do,’ he said, sheepishly. ‘And what do you mean, “what’s the matter”?’

  ‘This is not a wake. Yet you look like it is.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Patrick, mimicking him.

  ‘It’s this whole marriage thing. It’s made me think a bit. A lot, actually.’

  ‘About?’

  ‘Me. My life. And how, despite all this . . .’ With a sweep of his hand, Liam indicated his own face and body. ‘I’m here at my brother’s wedding without a date.’

  Patrick put an arm around his shoulders. ‘Hey – the night’s still young.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’m not. I mean, I’m a lot younger than you, obviously, but I’m going to be twenty-eight soon.’

  Patrick had opened his mouth to say something but evidently changed his mind, and he gave Liam an affectionate squeeze. ‘Well, like I said, the night’s young. And loads of people meet their future partner at a wedding, apparently.’

  ‘That’s true, is it?’

  ‘According to Four Weddings and a Funeral, yes.’

  Liam sighed. ‘Yeah, well, the way things are going, I’m more likely to meet someone at my funeral.’

  Patrick nudged him. ‘What about Rachel?’ he said, and Liam followed his gaze to the table where they’d be eating shortly. She was properly single now, judging by how Rich seemed to have disappeared from the scene an hour or so ago, and while, perversely, that made her a bit less of an attractive option in Liam’s book, she was still as hot as he’d informed her earlier. Plus there was something quite sexy about the way her forehead crinkled as she sipped her cava and frowned at the seating plan . . . Liam hadn’t seen many crinkled foreheads recently. When everyone around you had Botox, it was an occupational hazard.

  ‘How does Livia know her again?’

  ‘Friends from college, if I remember rightly.’

  Liam peered at her, as if studying a racehorse in the paddock before deciding whether to place a bet. ‘And what’s wrong with her?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘What’s wrong with her. She’s Livia’s age and not married. She’s not even been able to hang on to that Rich wanker . . .’

  There was a pause. ‘Oh, you mean Richard. And not . . .’ Patrick sniggered. ‘There could be a hundred reasons for why that’s the case – and none of them have to be negative. Besides, the same question could be asked of you.’

  Liam gave him a look. ‘So should I just go and talk to her, then?’

  ‘Why on earth would you want to do a thing like that?’ Patrick was looking horrified, then he grinned and clapped Liam on the back. ‘Of course you should go and talk to her!’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Now.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Right now. And you may want to turn down that Liam knob a few notches.’

  ‘That’s not a very nice thing to—’

  ‘I meant “knob” as in the kind of thing you’d find on, say, a hi-fi. Though to be honest . . .’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Liam adjusted his jacket, removed a stray hair from his sleeve and checked his breath in his cupped hand. ‘Here I go.’

  ‘Remember. Play nice.’

  ‘Sure. And, um, what should I say?’

  ‘Say?’

  ‘We didn’t really meet properly earlier. How should I introduce myself?’

  ‘I don’t know. How about something like, “Hi, we didn’t really meet properly earlier”? Followed by “I’m Liam, the groom’s clueless idiot brother” . . .’

  ‘Ha ha. Yeah, very good.’

  ‘Here.’ Patrick picked up what he assumed must be Livia’s untouched glass of cava from the table, and handed it to him. ‘Wait until she’s finished her drink, then take her this.’

  ‘Why can’t I do it now?’

  ‘Because she hasn’t finished the one she has yet. And it’s polite to wait for someone to finish what they already have before offering them a new one . . .’ He let the sentence hang. ‘Did you want me to introduce you?’

  ‘Would you?’

  Patrick sighed exasperatedly. ‘No.’

  ‘Right. Sure.’

  Liam watched as Rachel downed the rest of her cava, then he took the glass Patrick had handed him and strode purposefully over to where she was standing. He stood there for a moment, watching while she picked up one of the place cards, crumpled it into a ball and threw it on the floor, then he took a deep breath. ‘Trying to find yourself?’

  ‘That’s pretty deep!’

  ‘On the seating plan.’ Liam nodded at the table. ‘Sometimes you need a degree in maths to work out who should sit next to who at these things . . .’

  ‘I’ve got a degree in maths. In any case, it’s not that complicated, seeing as there are only six of us now, despite the two extra settings.’ She pointed to the place card in front of her. ‘I seem to be here. At the sad singles end. Next to, well, you.’ Rachel smothered a giggle. ‘Sorry about the “sad singles” thing.’

  ‘No, that’d be about right.’ Liam sudd
enly remembered he was holding two glasses, so he passed her one. ‘We didn’t really get a chance to talk earlier.’

  ‘No.’ Rachel cheersed him, then took a huge gulp of cava. ‘I was too busy telling my loser of a boyfriend to piss off.’

  ‘Right,’ said Liam, unsure whether that was a good thing. ‘So you know Livia from . . . ?’

  ‘College. She and I were roomies.’

  ‘Bed roomies? Or . . . ?’

  ‘Always on, eh? Impressive!’ She looked him up and down. ‘Hard to believe you’re Jed’s brother.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. Though actually . . .’ He lowered his voice, using it as an excuse to lean in closer to her. ‘We’re not really brothers. That’s just a cover story. We actually met in prison. He and I . . .’ Rachel had taken half a step backwards, so he smiled quickly. ‘Sorry. Joking. He is my brother.’ He pulled an imaginary notepad and pen from his pocket, and pretended to jot something down as he said, ‘Don’t use the prison line again.’

  ‘No. Good idea.’ Rachel smiled. ‘Though prison is a bit more of an interesting opening gambit.’

  ‘In that case, yes, it was prison.’

  ‘And what were you and Jed in for?’ said Rachel, playing along.

  ‘Um . . .’ Liam laughed. ‘You’d have thought I’d have worked that one out. Right now, I can’t think of anything that’d show me in a positive light.’

  ‘Hard to spin a prison sentence, really.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘So . . .’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Nice ceremony.’

  ‘Wasn’t it?’

  ‘Funny, though.’ Rachel had finished the last of her second drink, so Liam passed her his glass. ‘Jed having a wedding watch instead of a ring.’

  ‘I think it’s so he always knows when it’s time to come home . . .’ He elbowed Rachel gently in the ribs to reinforce his attempt at humour, then noticed she was wiping away a tear. ‘It wasn’t that bad a joke, surely?’

  Rachel shook her head, she fished a tissue out of her handbag, and dabbed at her eyes. ‘No. Sorry. Weddings always make me cry.’

  ‘Because they’re so romantic?’

  ‘Because it’s never me!’ said Rachel, downing half of Liam’s glass of cava in one go, and he had to resist the impulse to reach across and take the glass back.

  ‘You’ve never been asked? I’d have thought someone as beautiful as you would have a queue of—’

  Rachel silenced him with a look. ‘Eleven weddings, I’ve been to in the last four years. Eleven. And not one of them mine.’

  ‘Yeah, but . . .’ Liam thought for a moment. The ‘but’ was proving tricky – then something occurred to him. ‘Remember, though. It took Livia asking Jed for this one to happen.’

  ‘I’d need a boyfriend for that.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘To ask him!’ Rachel almost shouted, and Liam flinched.

  ‘Yeah, well, if you ask me . . . I don’t actually mean ask me . . .’

  ‘Thank you for clarifying that,’ said Rachel, testily.

  ‘ . . . the whole concept of being tied down . . . I mean, I don’t mind actually being tied down, if that’s your kind of thing. I did it once. Got off my tits in a club, went back to this woman’s house, next thing I know she’s got the handcuffs out.’ He smiled wistfully at the memory. ‘But in the marriage sense . . . So many women, so little time!’

  ‘If that’s supposed to make me feel better . . .’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ He grinned sheepishly. ‘I’ll let you into a secret,’ he said, gesturing across the terrace to where Livia and Jed were sitting by the pool, hand in hand, as Izzy snapped a series of photographs on her phone. ‘This is what I want more than anything. To meet someone, to fall in love with them, have kids.’

  ‘Oh no!’ said Rachel, facepalming. ‘And on the day I decide to start enjoying the single life . . .’

  Liam stared at her for a moment, then broke into a grin. ‘Yeah. Good one, Rach,’ he said.

  ‘I’m serious! About enjoying singledom, that is, and not . . .’

  ‘So am I. It’s just . . . a million miles away from how I live, isn’t it?’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Have you tried this thing called dating? Meeting someone, doing things the traditional way, rather than swiping right or getting – to use your wonderful phrase – off your tits in a club and going home with someone whose name you don’t remember the next morning. If you even knew it in the first place.’

  ‘I don’t know, Rach . . .’ Liam scratched his head. ‘My way’s just . . . easier.’

  ‘And how’s that working out for you?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Where’s your date this evening?’

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘In fact, that’s probably why you’re over here now, isn’t it? To see whether I’m that depressed and vulnerable – or drunk – that you might have a chance. Well, hang on . . .’ She downed the rest of Liam’s cava, then handed him back his glass. ‘Tell you what – fetch me another couple of these, and maybe you might.’

  Rachel was looking at him strangely – either with amusement or anger, Liam couldn’t tell – so he glanced around the room. Patrick and Izzy seemed to be watching him intently, and the last thing he wanted was for everyone to know he’d got Rachel drunk and slept with her – or even that he’d tried to. And while that sort of had been on his mind, he was beginning to realise he couldn’t go on like this. Not indefinitely. Not without people getting hurt, he thought, remembering how Jed got his black eye. And certainly not if he did want what he’d told Rachel just now.

  ‘Not at all,’ he said, as sincerely as he could muster. ‘You were just looking a bit sad, so I thought I’d come over and cheer you up with a bit of banter. Have a bit of a laugh. We could just console ourselves as the two singletons here.’ Rachel was looking at him as if he should have referred to himself as simpleton instead, so he fixed a sympathetic smile on his face and pulled out her chair, indicating she should sit down. Dinner was due to start, and as the others made their way towards the table, he sat down next to her and lowered his voice. ‘In fact, tell you what. How about you and me have a pact?’

  ‘A pact?’

  ‘Yeah. If neither of us is married by the time we’re thirty . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I saw it on this TV programme once. This couple had this pact that said if they weren’t married to anyone else by the time they were thirty, then they’d get married. To each other,’ he added, in case she hadn’t understood, then he stopped talking. There was no mistaking it – Rachel looked like she was about to explode. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘I’m already thirty!’

  ‘Oh. Right. Well, um . . .’ He looked around desperately. Jed and Livia were approaching, Livia giving him daggers, and judging by the look on Patrick’s face as he lowered himself into the seat opposite, Liam suspected he wasn’t too pleased with him either. ‘If it’s any consolation, you don’t look any older than . . .’ He swallowed hard. ‘Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, tops.’

  Rachel burst out laughing, then mimed shooting herself in the temple, and though Liam was useless at reading women, he could tell it was no consolation at all.

  Livia waggled her ring finger, smiling at the contrast between her elegant wedding band and the somewhat masculine ‘engagement’ one Jed had borrowed from Liam, then when she caught Jed looking at her and slowly shaking his head, she tried – and failed – to stop her cheeks from reddening. She still couldn’t believe her luck – Jed’s proposal was something she’d remember for ever, and not only because it had rid her of any doubts she’d had that he was just going through the motions. And the ceremony itself had been . . . well, Livia knew it didn’t really mean anything, and yet somehow it had felt like it meant everything.

  She cast her eyes around the table – Izzy and Patrick were locked in conversation, god knows
about what; Liam staring at them across the table from where he was sitting next to Rachel, trying to appear interested, but, she suspected, more interested in peeking down Izzy’s rather revealing dress. To her left, Rachel was sitting, picking the slice of cake on her plate apart with her fork, so she leaned across to whisper in her ear.

  ‘Are you eating that, or trying to find out how it died?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You look like you’re performing an autopsy, rather than enjoying my wedding dinner.’

  ‘What? No, sorry, Liv. I’m just . . . thinking.’

  ‘About?’

  ‘Rich and I . . . just before . . .’ She swallowed hard. ‘I told him it was over.’

  Livia smiled sympathetically. ‘I guessed.’

  ‘How did you . . . ?’

  ‘The empty seat next to you during the ceremony was a bit of a giveaway. As was the crying. But good for you. It was a very brave thing to do. Though I’m still a little puzzled as to why you took him back in the first place?’

  Rachel thought for a moment. ‘Like I said earlier, I didn’t want to just throw away the last two years. But then when Rich showed his true colours, I realised that was better than throwing away the rest of my life.’ She put her fork down and pushed her plate away. ‘I just don’t know why I didn’t see it.’

  ‘See what?’

  ‘What a . . . plonker he was.’

  Livia took her hand. ‘Maybe because you didn’t want to?’

  Rachel stared at her for a moment, then she smiled. ‘Maybe you’re right. Though he was right too, when he said, “It’s not me, it’s you.” It was me.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘In that I deserved better than him.’ She smiled, wistfully. ‘And I’m sorry about the tears. Though that wasn’t because of Rich.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No. It was just . . . weddings always make me cry.’ Rachel forced a smile. ‘All the emotion. The commitment. The vows. Those promises. There’s something about them that’s just so . . .’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And Jed’s proposal. That was so romantic.’

  ‘If a bit last-minute.’ Livia grinned. ‘Took me rather by surprise, I can tell you. I actually thought he was going to call the whole thing off!’