Chapter Eighteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Present Day

In the moonlit shadows cast by three towering beeches, a discreet distance from the main marquee, is a row of portable toilets. I’m hiding in the one on the far end. Doing my best to ignore the smell, I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes. I can’t even sit down, because there’s no lid and I risk staining my bum blue with the toilet cleaner. (More proof I didn’t organize this part of the wedding – I’d have insisted on the Portakabin type.) I know someone’s going to come looking for me eventually, but I just need a few moments to myself. The last few hours have been a nightmare. Literally.

There’s a loud knocking at the door. My startle reflex is so strong that I almost topple into the toilet bowl of blue goo. ‘Erin? Are you in there?’

I swear softly under my breath. It’s Gil. I’ve been avoiding him most of the evening under the pretence that we have to socialize with our guests – and I made sure I had long conversations with as many as I could pin down. I had to. Cutting the cake with Gil, doing a first dance with Gil, my face pressed into the clean cotton of his shirt, was all too weird.

‘Erin?’ His tone is softer now. He sounds worried.

I clear my throat. ‘Yes?’

‘Are you okay?’ He tries the door handle, but I make sure the lock is firmly engaged. ‘I’m fine.’ My voice comes out hoarse. Not very convincing.

‘Good …’ That one word sounds wary, hesitant. I don’t think he believes me. But then he’d be right not to, wouldn’t he?

‘It’s just that it’s almost eleven. We’re supposed to be leaving soon … and we’ve still got the bouquet toss to do.’

Ugh. The last thing I want to do is come out of my rather stinky sanctuary and lob my wedding bouquet across the marquee at a group of women. I don’t like the tradition anyway. Mostly because it’s a horrible waste of gorgeous flowers.

‘Can we skip that bit?’ I ask. ‘The bouquet toss, not the leaving bit?’ I’d do just about anything to get out of Whitehaven at the moment – something I never expected to feel or think.

‘I thought you were going to do it because Anjali had said how much she’d like to catch the bouquet once, but this is your wedding day. And if there’s one day in your life where you don’t have to put other people first, to let them guilt you into doing things for them, this should be it.’

I frown. I do that, don’t I?

Gil tries the handle again. ‘So, are you coming out?’

I look at the lock. My fingers stretch towards it, but then curl into a fist. ‘In a minute. I’ve got, you know … stuff … to do.’ Which is a lie. For some reason, I don’t want to see Gil’s face right now. I don’t want to be alone with him in a darkened garden once again, even though I know there won’t be any shouting this time.

‘Go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.’