The Last Charm: The most page-turning and emotional summer romance fiction of 2020!

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The Last Charm: The most page-turning and emotional summer romance fiction of 2020! Page 23

by Ella Allbright


  ‘Oh, God. She’s not showing me up in bridesmaid duties, is she?’

  ‘Nope, and anyway, I’m just happy you’re here. And she may have said something about divvying up the bill between you, her, and Shell.’

  Pulling a face, I grimace, thinking of my diminished funds. ‘Gee, thanks, El.’

  ‘I’m just teasing,’ Chloe says quickly. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes, sorry. Bit of a fraught twenty-four hours,’ I share, flashing a look over her shoulder. I can see the rest of the girls from the bridal party in the round hot-tub, hair up in buns and champagne flutes in their hands. They smile and wave, beckoning us over. ‘But that doesn’t matter now. I’m here, you’re getting married tomorrow, and I couldn’t be more excited. Let’s have some fun!’ Opening up the bag hanging off my arm, I scoop out little gift-wrapped clear bags of her favourite sweets – lemon Refresher bars – tied with hot pink ribbons, and hand them to her. Then I fish around and bring out a plastic tiara with fake pink jewels in it. She bends over so I can carefully push it into her wet hair and thanks me.

  When I draw the next item out, her eyes widen. ‘Oh God, no.’

  ‘Oh God, yes,’ I hand her dangly pink penis earrings.

  ‘Oh, all right then.’ Laughing, she threads them into her earlobes.

  Next are some drinking straws with penises at the top. ‘So we can sip our champagne and get drunk quicker,’ I add.

  ‘Of course! You’re such a lovely friend.’

  I pull away so I can see her face. ‘Even though I got here about fifteen hours late?’

  ‘Even though.’ She nods. ‘Now, I managed to juggle things around so you can have a facial in about ten minutes, and a back massage later. Go and say hi to the girls, grab a champagne, and then relax. Down the hallway to the left for the treatment rooms.’

  ***

  By dinner time, I’m feeling very relaxed. My face is glowing after my facial, my muscles loose after my massage, and I’m light-headed after champagne in the hot tub, but in a good way.

  Everyone’s dressed up for dinner and I break tradition by putting on a floral dress with spaghetti straps and a fitted bodice. I bought it a few weeks ago and really wasn’t sure about it, but now I’m glad I threw it in my case, especially after Jake’s comment last night. Not that I have anything to prove to him. It surprises me, though, how girly and pretty I feel in the dress, with my hair tied in a high ponytail and my charm bracelet swinging from my wrist.

  Owen wolf-whistles and Jake raises both eyebrows when I enter the restaurant and make my way towards Shell, Eloise, and Jonny. Then Owen stands up, raising his glass in a toast. ‘Little Leila Jones, putting on a dress for us,’ he cheers. ‘Now I really know I’m getting married in the morning.’ There’s a round of applause from the whole table, as I sit down blushing. I’ll get you back, I mouth at Owen. He just winks at me, and elbows Jake.

  My gaze is drawn to Jake more and more over dinner, and I keep hoping I’ll catch his eye, but he seems to avoid looking in my direction. Maybe I’m being paranoid.

  ***

  Chloe and Owen’s wedding day dawns sunny, clear, and beautiful. After El, Chloe, her sister Amanda, Shell, and I breakfast together in the bridal suite, we set about doing each other’s hair and make-up. Popping open some fizz, we pause what we’re doing when there’s a knock on the door. We throw each other panicked looks because we’re all in tiny underwear under thin silky robes, not planning to get dressed until just before the ceremony. Chloe’s worried about something being spilt on our bridesmaid dresses, which are all the same gorgeous colour but each with a slightly different neckline.

  I’m closest to the entrance of the suite, which has a small hallway area, so I volunteer to answer, checking to make sure no one inside the suite is visible as I crack open the door and peer through it. I see one green eye and one brown. ‘Morning, Jake.’

  ‘Jones,’ he nods, his gaze slipping momentarily down to my chest before meeting my eyes again.

  I flush and pull the robe tighter, aware my strapless balconette bra is lacy and see-through. Anyone could walk down the corridor while we’re talking.

  ‘Nice hair.’ His mouth twitches.

  ‘Thanks.’ Putting my hands to the large rollers pinning my long tresses up, I say, ‘Chloe wants us all to have extra body.’

  ‘Does she now?’ He chuckles, looking at my cleavage again.

  ‘Ahem, if you two can stop flirting, I am still here?’ A voice sounds from behind Jake’s wide shoulders. I recognise it straight away.

  ‘Judy?’ I squeal.

  ‘That’s me.’ A bejewelled hand moves Jake to one side. ‘Excuse me, handsome, but I’ll be needed in there. Off you pop, now.’

  Jake blushes as she pats him on the bum to shoo him away, and I stifle a laugh behind my hand as he leaves, shaking his head. I’ve never seen him look so bemused before.

  ‘What a nice look, Leila.’ Judy steps into the room and closes the door behind her, patting my cheek and smiling fondly at me.

  This woman pretty much raised me, when I wasn’t with Dad. ‘Thank you,’ I say, striking a pose, one hand on my hip, ‘I thought so.’

  Spinning around, I lead her into the bedroom. ‘El, your mum is here,’ I announce. ‘And she looks amazing.’

  Everyone turns around, champagne flutes in hand.

  ‘Mum,’ Eloise says, beaming, ‘you made it. I love the outfit too.’ She indicates the pearly lilac dress Judy is wearing. ‘What are you doing up here?’

  ‘I couldn’t let Chloe get ready without a mother of the bride.’ Judy looks at Chloe with soft eyes. ‘If you’ll let me be that for you? You girls practically grew up at my kitchen table, so I sort of feel like your other mama. I know it must be hard without your mum here today.’ She holds open her arms, and Chloe flies into them with a sniffle. Amanda gulps down tears in the background. They lost their mum to cancer when Chloe was ten and Amanda was eight. It’s one of the things that’s always bound us together – the absence of a mum. Judy filled that gap to some extent. She always had a warm welcome for us and a ready supply of tissues, advice and food.

  Watching them, I wonder if she’ll do the same for me on my wedding day. Then I wonder if, with my record, I’ll ever get married. Putting my fingers to my eyelids, I press back tears. Today isn’t about me. ‘Oh, no. This is too sweet. Stop it, or we’ll all cry.’

  Chloe raises her head, laughing and stepping from Judy’s embrace.

  ‘Yeah, that’s a lovely idea, Mum, but let’s not get the waterworks started,’ El teases.

  ‘Thank goodness we hadn’t started on the mascara yet,’ Shell says.

  Judy shows Chloe over to a padded velvet chair. ‘Right, what’s next then?’

  ***

  The rest of the morning goes smoothly. The professional photographer arrives as planned, flitting around taking photos of us in various stages of preparation. The receptionist calls to confirm the band have arrived and are setting up down on the lawn to play the entrance music. They’re using the large circular wooden arbour right on the water’s edge for the ceremony. The Wedding Breakfast will be in one of the three reception rooms, but Chloe wants to get married by the lake. It’s the spot where Owen proposed to her last year, going the traditional route by getting down on one knee, having asked her dad’s permission first. It’s so romantic we could all burst.

  Now, walking down the grassy aisle created by the two columns of chairs set out in front of the arbour, murmuring step-together, step-together under my breath, I feel something rise up inside me at the sight of Jake standing next to Owen at the front. They both look incredible in well-cut black tuxes, hot pink ties, and buttonhole roses pinned to their lapels. But it’s Jake’s eyes I search for, and as our gazes tangle and I see the warm appreciation on his face, I stumble.

  ‘Watch it!’ Eloise hisses behind me, not unkindly.

  Steadying myself, I look around at the guests instead, smiling at them like the bride asked me to, ignoring the n
erves at being centre of attention. Step-together, step-together. I’m the first bridesmaid in the line, much to my chagrin, but Chloe wanted us in height order to look neat. El, Shell, and Amanda are next in single file, followed by Chloe on her dad’s arm. He looks like he could explode with pride, though we all know it’s a bittersweet day for their family.

  Overhead, the sky is a bright blue – Winsor and Newton’s Manganese Blue Hue – the lake is a shimmering Cobalt Turquoise, and the trees lining the shore are Winsor Emerald. Jake was right. I’m inspired and desperate to paint the scene. My fingers curl tighter around the flowers I’m clutching in front of me.

  With relief, I reach the front without any further mishaps, moving to my designated place over to the side and waiting for the other bridesmaids to join me.

  Sighing, I watch as Owen catches sight of Chloe for the first time. If his face is anything to go by, he’s as awestruck as we all were earlier when Chloe was finally ready. Her white satin wedding dress has a strapless sweetheart neckline and a fitted bodice, with a full princess skirt, puffed out by two hoops underneath. She looks stunning. Like a princess, especially with her dark brown hair trailing down over her left shoulder, a spray of flowers and jewels securing it away from her face above her right ear, classic red lipstick coating her mouth.

  The ceremony is brief but moving, and I tear up countless times at seeing my friend so happy. Eloise takes hold of my hand and squeezes, and I look out over the crowd to stop from breaking down completely, my bottom lip wobbling.

  And then Jake is stepping forward to hand Owen the wedding rings, but instead of looking at his best friend, his focus is on me. Staring at the strapless hot pink dress – Permanent Magenta – clinging to my body, which crosses over on the bodice and hugs my waist and hips before falling in a waterfall to the ground at my heels. Running his eyes over my long silvery blonde tresses which are falling in gentle waves down my back almost to my waist, a circlet of tiny roses and jewels perched on my head, giving me the fairy-tale princess style Chloe was aiming for.

  Wow. He shapes his mouth around the word, and I nod at him. You too.

  Surely friends can compliment each other.

  Owen coughs to get Jake’s attention, and Jake turns to him. ‘Sorry, mate,’ we all hear him mutter, as he hands over the rings.

  Owen clasps him on the shoulder, glancing over at us bridesmaids. ‘No worries,’ he says and laughs.

  Chloe takes it all in, and then looks from me to Jake, eyebrows raised. She shakes her head, but then gives me a little smile before turning to face Owen so they can say their vows. Shuffling my feet, I feel like I’ve been caught out in front of everyone.

  ***

  The wedding breakfast feels endless. It’s the wedding of one of my best friends and I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but I can’t wait to go outside on the lawn, take in the view, and get some fresh air. All of the bridesmaids are sitting at the round table nearest the head table with Jonny and Amanda’s husband, Darren. Their son Toby is being looked after by Judy to give them both a break. Shell and I are the only single ones at the whole wedding, it feels like.

  Chloe and Owen are sitting in the middle of the head table, with her dad, his brother, and his parents on either side, and Jake sitting next to the groom. Jake does a spectacular job with his speech, talking about when he first met Owen, how their friendship has grown over the years, what a good guy Owen is, and the way Chloe and his best friend complement each other. It’s funny and moving, joyful and poignant. Parts of it remind me of the letter he wrote to Grandad, or the postcards he sent me. ‘All we have is time,’ he finishes, looking meaningfully at the bride and groom while raising his glass, ‘and I am thankful you’ve found each other and can make every minute count on this incredible journey together. Please stand as we offer a toast to the bride and groom,’ he says, his voice carrying to the back of the room, ‘wishing them all the happiness in the universe.’

  Everyone stands, holding their prosecco aloft, repeating after Jake in a choral symphony of voices. There are very few dry eyes as people resume their seats.

  ‘Oh my God, I can’t cope,’ Eloise dabs her big blue eyes with a tissue she pinched from her mum earlier. ‘That was just bloody brilliant. Who knew Jake was such a poet?’

  Biting my tongue to stop myself saying, I did, I get to my feet. ‘Anyone up for a wander in the grounds? It’s hot in here and I could do with some air.’

  Shell stands too. ‘I’m done, and I heard Chloe say something to the waiters about music and drinks on the lawn, so I think we’re about to move anyway. I’ll go check.’

  As she goes over to the head table, I catch Jake watching me, his jacket on the back of his chair now his speech is over. There are three empty flutes and a whiskey glass containing an inch of amber liquid in front of him. He waves at me, a sloppy grin on his face, and I can tell he’s on his way to being drunk.

  Shell returns. ‘I was right. Chloe says we can go outside now.’

  ‘Does she need help with anything?’ Amanda asks.

  ‘Oh, yeah –’ Shell turns to her ‘– she asked if you could go hold her hoops so she can finally visit the bathroom.’

  ‘I get all the best jobs,’ Amanda rolls her eyes. ‘I thought I’d bottomed out with smelly nappies and potty training a two-year-old, but apparently the rung below that is helping a grown woman wee.’

  We all laugh as she lets out a mock long-suffering sigh and heads off to her sisterly duties. We gather our drinks and belongings, skirting around tables, chairs, and chattering people to reach the exit. As El and I leave the room ahead of Shell, who’s wandering along speaking with Darren, she leans her head towards me and says in a low voice, ‘You could do worse than Jake, you know.’

  I blink. ‘I-I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘We’ve been friends for over twenty years if you count our time at primary school. I know you. I’ve seen the way you look at him.’

  ‘You’re wrong, El. It’s not like that between us.’

  Letting out a pah sound, she eases me over to a corner, away from the human traffic. ‘Is that because you think that, or because you think he does?’ she says in a low voice. ‘You like him, like him. If you don’t do something about it, then someone else will. He’s lovely. He’s gorgeous. He’s always been there for you. Why wouldn’t you want him?’

  Mouth open, I click it shut. ‘I don’t. I don’t like him like that.’ But my voice wobbles and I sound weak. Jake is lovely, and has always been there for me, even when he irritated me, or I thought he was being bossy and overbearing.

  I think of our shared history. He kept me company in the park that lonely week before I left Bournemouth. He covered for me at school and got expelled. I saved his life, and we floated in the inky sea together beneath the stars. He’s funny, kind, caring. He supports my art. He makes me feel good about myself. He came in search of me when I lost the baby. He gave me a rainbow charm to give me hope for the future. His touch makes my skin tingle and I get breathless when I’m near him. I wear his jumper and keep his postcards and letter in a bundle in my bedside drawer. His charms – the book, the rainbow, and the musical note – hang off Mum’s bracelet next to her charms, which are so precious to me.

  But he kept leaving, like Mum. But not exactly, I realise, because he kept coming back. And now he’s back for good. The thought terrifies me, because it means I have to face how I feel.

  ‘Oh my God,’ I stare at her. ‘I do,’ I whisper, holding a hand to my chest and leaning against the wall, ‘I do like him.’ Shaking my head, instinct kicks in. ‘But even if I do, I’d just be making a complete idiot of myself when he tells me yet again he’s my friend.’

  ‘Well, I’ve always got the impression he’d like there to be something more. And didn’t he kiss you once?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say softly, ‘but it was years ago when he was comforting me, and he’s never tried again.’ I pushed him away. His timing was awful. And I didn’t see him back then, not the way
I see him now.

  ‘Well, you won’t know unless you try, will you? Come on.’ She links her arm with mine, raising her eyebrow at my expression. ‘Let’s get another drink.’

  ***

  A warm hand lands on my bare shoulder, sure and steady, but nonetheless it sends a tingle along my skin, raising the hairs on my arms. I spin around to find Jake smiling down at me. The breath catches in my throat. ‘Hey,’ I croak, ‘you okay?’

  ‘More than.’ His mouth crooks a little lopsidedly.

  I can tell he’s on the wrong side of tipsy. His sleeves are rolled up and the hot pink tie is dangling undone around his neck. He looks deliciously decadent.

  ‘But you,’ he continues, ‘are wearing ridiculous shoes. Those heels are too high and I’ve been watching you hobble around in them all day. To be honest, I’m surprised you’re not crippled.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ My tone is a little stiff. I’ve observed him floating around the wedding talking to women all day and have hated the jealous twinges I’ve felt. ‘I can take the pain.’ I add, ‘To be honest, I’m too scared of what Chloe might do if I take them off.’

  He throws back his head, laughing, and I notice how tanned and muscular his throat is, and how broad his shoulders.

  ‘Yeah, right.’ He grins. ‘Come on, time to take them off.’

  ‘What? No!’ Looking around at the other wedding guests, who are swaying to the music, I see none of them are shoeless. ‘I can deal with a pair of heels, for God’s sake.’

  ‘Hah! Not if your expression is anything to go by,’ he jokes, before bending over and grabbing my ankle. ‘Deal with it, it’s happening.’

  As I squeak in protest, hanging onto him for balance to stop myself falling over, he slides first one shoe off, then the other. ‘Jake, my feet!’

  Throwing the strappy heels aside under a nearby table, he grabs me around the waist. ‘Relax, we’re just dancing barefoot in the grass. Well, you are anyway. But just in case you’re worried about your poor little feet, here. Is this better?’ Dragging me close, he stands me on his shoes so our bodies are pressed together. When he shifts, I shift. There’s nowhere for me to go when he’s holding me so tightly. I have to admit, my poor crushed toes feel better already.

 

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