‘Before you go, can you sign this off please?’ I handed him our time schedule, detailing where we would be working through the day. As I did so, my mind flashed back to us working together in Boston prior to our own, ill-fated nuptials. There was always such electricity between us, even when we were engaged in mundane tasks. It was still there; only today, with so much now resolved, it felt good again. I’m finally moving on, I thought, smiling at him. Everything’s going to be OK now.
‘That seems fine. If you need a room cleared for your team, just talk to Jean-Claude, our wedding planner.’
Jean-Claude was a consummate professional: flamboyant and gushingly enthusiastic in front of clients; steel-willed and regimented towards everyone else. Like an omnipotent ringmaster he assumed centre stage wherever he stood, barking orders like a Gallic sergeant-major, whilst his team and countless workers scurried, jumped and ran about with his every command. As we approached, he was in the middle of a scathing attack on three delivery men, who were gawping helplessly at him, a large pallet of tables half-emptied before them.
‘Non, leave zese tables zere for now. You! What are you doing wiz zese, uh? You are meant to be arranging zem at five fifteen precisely! You have a watch, uh? Zen use it, imbecile!’ Turning to see Ed and me, his countenance made a lightning switch to one of zealous benevolence. ‘Ah, Mademoiselle Duncan, how wonderful to see you! Ah trust zat everything is to your satisfaction?’
‘Yes, thank you. We’d like to start with the orangery, if we may?’
Jean-Claude consulted his file—which was bigger and grander than anyone else’s for a reason. ‘Good, good. Ah will make sure you are not disturbed.’ He spun round to address the table guys again. ‘You ’ear zat, non? Nobody eez to disturb ze florists!’
Ed and I suppressed our giggles until we were outside.
‘What’s so funny?’ Marnie asked as we reached the van.
‘Oh, you’ll find out,’ Ed replied, lifting the van’s roller doors and swinging himself inside. ‘OK, people, let’s get to work.’
In the years since Mr Kowalski left us, I often wonder what he would make of the larger jobs Kowalski’s now handles. His philosophy was always that smaller was invariably better; the mainstay of Kowalski’s business being made-to-order bouquets and arrangements. When I first met him, he had just taken on the shop’s first large-scale commission—and it scared him half to death.
‘When you are running this store, ukochana, you may have more courage to venture into this kind of thing. For me, this is too heavy on my nerves. I am old already, but this task has formed more lines on my face than all my sixty years put together.’
As for the Lithgow wedding, I think it may well have given Mr K heart failure. Even with all my team working flat out, we reached 5 p.m. with the footpath garlands still to assemble. Working in the wide entrance hall, I could see Marnie and the grads—balanced at precarious angles on chairs and ladders—surreptitiously checking their watches when they thought nobody was looking. I took Ed to one side.
‘We’re not going to finish before seven at this rate. These guys need to get back.’
Ed rubbed his forehead and sighed. ‘I agree. Why don’t we see if the great Jean-Claude can spare a few bodies to help us fit the footpath flowers?’
‘Good idea.’ As he disappeared to seek an audience with the man himself, I called Marnie, Jocelyn and Jack over. ‘Right. As soon as these staircase features are set, you can head back.’
‘But what about the garlands?’ Jocelyn asked.
‘We’ll sort those. It’s only a short walk to our hotel, so Ed and I won’t be chasing the clock. Good work, everyone.’
I watched my team make their final adjustments, say their goodbyes and leave. Their commitment and work ethic filled me with an immense sense of pleasure—and it showed in the completed project. While Ed organised our impromptu ‘garland squad’, I took the opportunity to walk slowly through the house, checking the placing of each arrangement, meticulous in my attention to detail. It’s something I make an effort to do for each project Kowalski’s undertakes.
I was just inspecting the arch over the orangery doorway when I felt someone step behind me.
‘You’ve surpassed yourself,’ David breathed, his voice deep and close to my ear. ‘Everything looks amazing.’
I turned my head and met his graphite gaze. ‘Thank you,’ I replied, feeling incredibly vulnerable all of a sudden. ‘My team has worked so hard.’
‘But it’s your design, your direction.’
‘Mine and Ed’s.’
‘But you’re the boss, Rosie.’
‘We both are—in most things, anyway.’ I looked back at the arch and replaced one of the peonies whose petals were showing signs of age. ‘But I agree, the design’s worked well.’
‘Do you have time for a drink? Before you leave?’
‘I’m not sure. Ed and I have work to do tonight.’
David held his hands out in an honest plea. ‘Come on—one drink? Surely that won’t take long?’
‘We’re done here,’ Ed reported, arriving at my side. ‘Ready to go?’
‘I—I still have some checks to make,’ I answered, making a split-second decision as David smiled. ‘You go; I’ll be done in about half an hour.’
He looked at David, then back at me, concern barely concealed by his expression. ‘You sure? You should get some rest before the work starts again.’
‘I’ll get some, I promise. You know me. I just want to do my final checks.’
Ed shot a look at David. ‘Ever the perfectionist. Can you make sure she actually leaves here within the hour?’
David grinned. ‘I’ll guarantee it.’
‘Only when she puts her mind to something, she can lose track of time,’ Ed continued, seemingly reluctant to leave. I noticed David’s left foot tapping gently, a sign of irritation I remembered from our days in the London agency.
‘Stop worrying, mate. I won’t be long.’
Glancing at David once more, Ed nodded at me and walked out.
I followed David through a maze of doors to a large library at the rear of the house. He opened an aged wooden globe drinks cabinet filled with bottles of all shapes and sizes. Working quickly, he poured two drinks and handed one to me.
‘Southern Comfort with a splash of water,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘Just the way you like it, right?’
Butterflies had begun to dance inside me. I couldn’t believe he would have remembered something like that after seven years.
‘Let’s head to the orangery,’ he smiled. ‘Then we can talk as you check.’
The setting for tomorrow’s ceremony was undeniably breathtaking. With all the displays, gold chairs and castiron wedding gazebo now in place, it was a perfect, if thoroughly ostentatious, venue for an ultra-romantic wedding. I moved around continuing my inspection, constantly aware of him watching me. The scrutiny was so disconcerting that I felt the need to make polite conversation as I worked.
‘So has Rachel seen all this yet?’
‘No. She wants it to be a surprise tomorrow.’
‘And your parents? Have they been banished from their own home?’
‘Staying with friends.’
This was hard work. I tried a different approach. ‘So how are you feeling?’
He didn’t answer, his eyes still burning into my back.
‘Nervous? Confident? Blasé?’
I felt him move closer. ‘I’m just thinking.’
‘Thinking what?’
He was at my side, his face serious when I looked at him. ‘I was walking around here today, with all that activity, all that endeavour on my behalf—and it made me think what I missed before…’
His words cut through my softened defences. ‘David…’
He reached his hand to lightly rest on my arm. ‘I don’t mean what you think. I mean, there was so much about our wedding that I missed because I was too wrapped up in the logistics of it to enjoy the emotional stuff. I’m sorry.’
‘No need to apologise, Rosie. I more than gave you enough reason to think ill of me. So where next?’
‘Over there and then I’m done.’
We walked over to the gazebo and I began fiddling with the strands of fairy lights woven in and out of the exquisite iron-work.
‘This looks wonderful. My father found it after a mammoth search. Would you believe there’s a company in Maine that supplies gazebos for weddings all over the world?’
I laughed. ‘Actually, I would. There are more businesses founded on the crazy whims of brides than you realise.’
‘And most of them are being employed here,’ David admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.
‘Hmm, I noticed,’ I grinned, feeling the spark reignite between us. ‘I mean, peacocks?’
‘Jean-Claude’s idea.’ His eyes were alive with mischief as he adopted a French accent in a perfect mimic of his charismatic wedding planner. ‘“You must ’ave peacocks, Monsieur Leethgow! Ze peacocks weel be somesing nobody could expect. Ah would not be doing my job if you did not ’ave ze peacocks!” And Rachel was all, “Darling, the peacocks are a definite!” So four hundred dollars later, we ’ave ze peacocks.’
‘You always were a brilliant impressionist.’
‘Yeah, but my disappearing act sucked.’
‘Yes, it did.’ It occurred to me as I answered him that only a few months ago his joke would have crushed me. It felt good to be able to laugh about it.
He looked at me for a while, a strange smile on his face. ‘We’re really OK, aren’t we?’
‘I think we are.’
‘Can I say something?’
‘Sure, go ahead.’
He took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on me. ‘Meeting you again—after all this time—it’s been a revelation. I always knew you were special but now—well—you’re different…Stronger, I guess. And I was a stupid fool not to see it.’ He reached out and I found myself taking his hand as my heartbeat thundered in my ears. ‘I’m so incredibly sorry for breaking your heart. I let you down and I can never undo my stupidity.’
Squeezing his hand, I shook my head. ‘David, enough. It’s done and in the past. Let’s keep it there and move on. I forgive you. And I’m sorry for hating you. I was hurt, but letting the memory hurt me over and over again was wrong.’
‘You shouldn’t apologise.’
‘I think I want to.’
‘You’re amazing. Hell, Rosie…’
His hands were stroking my face as we stood under the wedding gazebo, his body moving closer, his breath hot and immediate as his kiss fell urgently on my lips. And the worst thing was I let him kiss me. For the briefest of moments, I gave in to a desire long-suppressed and hidden deep within the shadows of my past, as memories of our life together flooded my mind and my senses.
Then, the reality of the situation brought me crashing back to the present and revulsion powered through my body as I wrenched my lips from his, pushing him away. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
Shocked, David stepped towards me, desperation gripping his features. ‘I-I thought that’s what you wanted…’
‘No. No! It’s the day before your wedding! What were you thinking?’
‘Rosie, hear me out. I’m in love with you. I’ve been falling in love with you again since we met in Nate’s office. I was a fool before. I never realised what I had. But now you’re here—we’re here. And we have time.’
‘Time? We have no “time”—and there’s no “we”, either.’
Grabbing my shoulders, David pleaded with me, his eyes filled with frustrated tears. ‘Rosie, I love you. Run away with me. Tonight. We can have everything we should have had before. I will be everything I should have been for you. I will spend every waking moment making amends for the love you’ve been denied so long. Let me love you, Rosie. We still have time.’
Sickened by every word, I backed away from him, grabbing my workbag and moving swiftly towards the door. ‘Look around you, David. Everything here is waiting for you to marry Rachel tomorrow. You should be thinking of her, not me.’
‘What if all I can think about is you?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘I’m not, Rosie. I can’t get you out of my head. I haven’t been able to think of anyone else.’
‘Stop it—stop saying that…You—you don’t know what you’re saying…’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. You haunt my dreams, Rosie Duncan. I can’t bear to think you could be anyone else’s but mine. You were mine, once: you could so easily be mine again. I felt it when we kissed—and you felt it too, didn’t you?’
‘No—I—’
‘Didn’t you? You can’t deny it, Rosie. You kissed me back. Deep down, it was what you wanted! Come on, if nothing else then admit that to yourself. Nothing’s changed between us. The old magic’s still there. And this,’ he indicated all the pristine wedding flowers surrounding us, ‘this is just something that will all be gone in two days. It’s meaningless to me. You’re all I want now. You could be mine tonight and this could all be gone tomorrow.’
I stared at him as a terrible, gut-churning thought screamed out in my head. ‘This is what happened last time, isn’t it?’
He opened his mouth, but there were no words there.
‘I’m right, aren’t I?’
‘It—it was nothing, Rosie.’
I could feel anger burning through my core, sending quivers of energy through me. ‘Who was she?’
‘Rosie, I—’
‘Who was she?’
‘No one. Nobody that mattered.’
‘Well, presumably someone who mattered enough to make you miss your own wedding?’
David groaned and put his head in his hands. ‘Oh, back here again. So much for the big “I forgive you” speech. Can’t we move on from this?’
‘Evidently you can’t.’
‘Look, Rosie, I made a mistake, OK? I panicked. After I left you that night I went out to a bar, met a woman—heck, I didn’t even know her name—and woke up at four in the morning in her bed with a hangover from hell. I freaked. I knew I couldn’t come back to you after—after what I’d done. So I drove to a twenty-four-hour diner on the outskirts of the city and called Asher to meet me there. While I waited in the car lot for him to arrive, I wrote you a note on the only piece of paper I had. And yes, I know it was your note to me but what else could I do? Asher begged me to reconsider but I refused and drove off before he could stop me. I was hoping he’d be his honourable self and deliver the message anyway. I spent the next three months just driving. I was a mess. I only called my father when I ran out of cash. He told me to come home and I did. I found out he’d settled things with you and that was that. But you have to believe me, I left because you didn’t deserve a man like me in your life.’
‘And what about Rachel? What about what she deserves? If you wake up tomorrow morning in my bed, how much of a mistake will you have made then?’
He slumped down onto a chair and stared blankly at me, the fire extinguished from within him, and I saw the frightened child inside the man. Nobody would have blamed me for dealing a fatal verbal blow then and there, but, instead of white-hot anger I now found a well of compassion inside. I walked back into the room and sat beside him.
‘Look at us, eh? One too scared of commitment, the other too scarred by it.’
He nodded but he was a broken man and his voice belied the fragility of his state. ‘I’m sorry, Rosie.’
‘Do you love Rachel?’
‘Yes—yes I do.’
‘Then marry her tomorrow.’ How strange that the same words were relevant on the eve of a different wedding.
He hung his head. ‘How do I know it’s the right thing?’
I gently patted his knee, smiling as rea
lisation dawned on me. ‘Because of this.’ I gestured to the opulent surroundings of the orangery.
He lifted his eyes to follow the sweep of my hand. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Because, even after the débâcle of our wedding—all the pain, all the mess—you care enough about Rachel to walk the road again, with her. You said it yourself: you were a wreck after what happened before. So it would have to take someone incredibly special to make you want to risk it again. Don’t throw away what you have just because you’re scared. If you love her enough, you’ll be here tomorrow, waiting for your bride. Don’t let her arrive to find you gone. Nobody deserves that.’
Without another word, I rose and walked slowly out.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I didn’t tell Ed about what happened with David; he didn’t need to know and I didn’t need to relive it. Despite my apparent cool composure during the latter part of our conversation, when I left the house it was a different matter: I shook uncontrollably during the whole of the ten-minute walk to the hotel. While I wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, of one thing I was convinced: it was something I had to experience. Something cathartic had invaded my soul when I fought David off; maybe I needed to prove to myself that I no longer harboured feelings for him, or perhaps I just needed to find out what I didn’t want in order to bring me closer to discovering what I really needed.
When I arrived back at the hotel, Ed seemed relieved to see me but didn’t press for further details, which I was immensely grateful for. We worked till gone midnight creating bouquets for Rachel and her seven attendants, plus twenty buttonholes and two corsages for David’s mother, Phoebe, and Rachel’s mother, Eunice. A few hours of snatched sleep later, we were up again, taking breakfast at six before heading over to the house for last-minute touches. Eunice met us in the entrance lobby, all feathers and fluster, fawning over the bridal bouquets with loud cries of admiration.
‘How’s Rachel?’ I asked, once she’d sufficiently regained her faculties to hold a civil conversation.
‘Beautiful. Amazing. Very nervous, but then isn’t that the bride’s prerogative?’
Walking into the orangery, I saw David, already seated in his chair. I caught his eye and he smiled: nothing more needed to be said. Ed and I made our final checks, sprayed the arrangements with water to give them a dewy freshness and retreated quietly as the groomsmen arrived, filling the glasshouse with their raucous laughter.
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