Thirteen Weddings (31 page)

I step up towards the altar rail, tensing when I see the old pipe organ. I photograph it quickly and then turn around to see Russ taking his place next to his best man. I click off some shots of
them before flipping the focus to capture his mother dabbing at her eyes in the pew behind him. I lower my camera and my eyes lock with Alex’s. He averts his gaze immediately.

I could cry. Things are going to be weird between us from now on, I just know it. It’s hard enough that I’ve admitted to myself that I’m in love with him. I lift my camera up
to hide my face, forcing myself to photograph the simple, stained-glass windows before calling it quits. I go outside to wait for Maria.

She arrives on time and looking beautiful, wearing her late grandmother’s veil. Rachel helps her to adjust it as I lean against the heavy wooden church door and fight back tears. I know
it’s normal for people to get emotional at weddings, but it’s not normal for me. I take a few photographs, even though this part is Rachel’s bag, and then move into the church.
Rachel pats my arm and I see her eyes are shining too as she moves past me into the church. The organ starts to play and I photograph Maria taking a deep, calming breath while she braces herself.
Her father looks grave as he offers his arm, and then she fixes me with a confident smile and walks steadily towards me.

She is really going through with this. I wasn’t sure if she would. They barely know each other. It blows my mind that they’re about to commit to a life together. My attention shifts
to Russ. His nose goes bright pink when he sees her and I notice him swallow, but then he smiles bravely, happily, and there isn’t a shadow of doubt in my mind that he loves her and wants to
be with her.

I hope with all my heart that they’ll be very happy together.

Bridget manhandles me later when we’re back at the villa having a champagne reception around the pool. ‘What the hell happened last night?’ she mutters under
her breath as she pulls me behind a hydrangea bush.

‘What are you talking about?’ I ask wearily.

‘You could cut the atmosphere between you and Lachie with a knife. He disappeared and then I realised you were gone, too.’

‘I went to bed,’ I tell her.

She looks away from me. I can’t see her eyes behind her dark glasses so I don’t know what she’s thinking. At a guess though, she’s hurt because I’m not confiding in
her.

I sigh. ‘Alex came to find me.’

She looks at me sharply. I tell her everything.

‘Holy shit,’ she murmurs. ‘And Lachie saw you?’

‘Nothing happened,’ I reply.

‘He doesn’t know that.’

‘No,’ I admit. ‘But I’m sure Alex told him.’

‘I doubt he would have believed it anyway, if he saw Alex nearly kiss you. Fucking hell, Bronte, what if he’d been Lisa or Tim? Don’t they know Zara?’

I blush furiously. She has every right to tell me off, but I’m still trying to come to terms with what happened myself. I think she realises. ‘Do you want me to speak to
Lachie?’

‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘I’ll tell him if he asks. I’m sure he won’t say anything to anyone.’

‘I hope you’re right.’

We manage to get through the group shots before the wedding breakfast and then Rachel and I take the happy couple off for their private shoot. And they are happy. Blissfully. We photograph them
with the mountains as a backdrop.

Rachel and I may be working, but for once, we don’t take our break in private. We sit at tables with the other guests, although neither of us is drinking. My friends and colleagues, on the
other hand, are navigating their way through their hangovers by the hair of the dog method and they’re coming out the other side laughing. I watch with relief over the course of dinner as the
atmosphere between Lachie and Alex dissolves. They’re sitting on a nearby table – the food is a buffet with no seating plan – so Rachel and I are with Maria’s friends from
home who had space on their table. Bridget pulled a face at me when I didn’t sit down next to her, but I think she understands it’s probably best that I keep my distance.

The speeches take place when coffee is being served. Rachel and I get back to work. Maria’s father is the first to speak, so my focus is on Maria’s mother and her table of close
relatives, while Rachel concentrates on Maria and her father. I get some lovely shots of Maria’s mother looking quite emotional as she smiles with pride. Despite the circumstances of the more
pressing, er, biological issue that has sped up the proceedings, she seems genuinely delighted to see her daughter tying the knot.

Russ speaks next, and his speech has everyone both sniffing and cracking up with laughter. I hold my breath when his best man speaks. Maria and her immediate family didn’t come clean to
her more elderly relatives about the reason for her hasty nuptials, but although the best man makes insinuations about a tent in the Lake District, most of Maria’s relatives can’t speak
a word of English anyway. They can count to nine though, so they might get a surprise in approximately five months’ time when a baby is born.

The tables are cleared soon after the speeches and I watch Lachie distractedly as he sets up. He has studiously ignored me all day long, and I feel sick and sad as I see him plug in his beloved
guitar to the amplifiers brought in by Maria’s DJ cousin. I’d like to speak with him, but it will have to wait until I’m officially off duty – which may not be tonight.
It’s time for the first dance so I move closer to the dance floor. It’s only when I’m already in position that I realise Alex is close by. My skin’s burning all over as I
pretend to fiddle with my zoom, but he sees me, and buoyed by alcohol perhaps, he comes over.

‘How’s it going?’ he asks.

‘Fine,’ I reply. ‘Good. It’s been a good day, hasn’t it?’ I keep my voice sounding casual.

‘Great.’

Lachie starts to play Noah & The Whale’s ‘5 Years Time’ and I smile as I click off some shots of Maria and Russ doing an impromptu but gorgeous dance on the dance floor. I
zoom in on Lachie and catch him looking super-cute as he plays his guitar and smiles while he sings about drinking stupid wine, getting drunk and having fun, fun, fun. He looks into my camera lens
and to my relief his smile doesn’t drop even as his lyrics change to love, love, love, but then his eyes move to my left to where Alex is standing and his gaze hardens. He returns his
attention to his hands on his guitar, and my heart sinks. I step away from Alex and photograph the smiling crowd.

When the song finishes, everyone claps and cheers and Russ and Maria kiss before turning to give Lachie a round of applause. He grins and casually tips an imaginary hat to them.

A short while later, Rachel places a glass of champagne in my hand. ‘Cheers,’ she says with a grin, taking a sip from a matching glass.

‘Where did you get that from?’ I ask. I thought the champagne ran out ages ago.

‘Maria saved us a bottle,’ she tells me with a smile.

‘B!’ Bridget shouts, appearing with a glass of white wine in her hand. She’s cheered up a whole lot since this morning. Maria leaves Russ behind to join us too, and Rachel,
ever the professional, snaps a shot of the three of us with our arms around each other. We stand together and watch Lachie along with pretty much every other girl in the vicinity. I think he likes
the attention. He grins over at us a couple of times.

Eventually I bow to Rachel’s insistence that she can cover the rest of the night – she really is the loveliest boss and mentor. I take my camera inside to my bedroom and freshen up a
bit. I’m wearing a yellow halter-neck with a ruffle hem that falls to just above my knees. I find the length easy enough to work in, although usually I wear smart trousers when I’m
running around with my camera. Not today though, because I’m a guest as much as I’m a photographer. I tidy my hair, reapply a little make-up and return outside.

The sun is setting and ribbons of colour streak across the sky: mauve, grey, orange, yellow, white, and high above my head, light blue. I pause on the steps and take a moment to stare at the
view. I shouldn’t have put my camera away quite so quickly, but the colours will have faded by the time I go back inside to get it.

I walk down the steps and falter when I see Alex standing with his camera by the pool. I hear his shutter going off as he photographs the sunset. He turns around and sees me.

‘Hey,’ he says quietly, putting his camera down on the mosaic-tiled table. ‘I was coming to look for you. Can we talk?’

I cautiously agree, wondering what he’s got to say to me now after practically ignoring me all day.

He glances towards the marquee to check we’re alone before nodding towards the pool shed. I follow him around the corner of the small building and into the darkness of the leafy green
trees. He thrusts his hands into his pockets and turns to face me.

‘I’m sorry about last night,’ he says seriously. ‘I was drunk.’

I flinch slightly, hating hearing him use that as an excuse.

‘Forget about it,’ I say. ‘I was, too. Let’s just move on.’ I go to turn away from him, but he grabs my wrist and stops me. I look up at him, startled.

‘Bronte...’ He shakes his head, looking anguished. ‘I’m pretty fucking confused right now.’

The look on his face makes my heart melt. But I don’t want it to melt. I want it to toughen the hell up and let me walk away from him.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says sincerely, letting go of my wrist and touching his fingers to my face. ‘I...’ He swallows and I can see he’s finding this difficult.
‘I care about you.’

I regard him with uncertainty. ‘Why do you want to marry her?’

From the look of surprise on his face, he wasn’t expecting me to ask that.

‘I... Zara and I have been together for years. I always wanted to settle down, have kids. It’s how I was brought up. I know you don’t believe in marriage—’

‘It doesn’t mean I don’t want those things, too,’ I cut him off.

‘But you’re going back to Australia.’

‘At the moment I’m planning on staying.’

He shakes his head with frustration and begins to pace the start of the forest floor here behind the pool shed. ‘Who knows what would have happened if we’d had more time together
when we met. I’m not sure I would have gone back to Zara.’ I hold my breath, waiting for him to continue. ‘But we didn’t have more time,’ he says finally.

‘She texted and you had to go home.’

He looks utterly lost. ‘I really liked you.’ He shakes his head. ‘I
still
really like you.’

I close my eyes briefly in resignation. ‘I really like you too,’ I say.

No. I love him.

He stops pacing and stares at me intently. It’s so dark under here. Only the twilight sky peeks through the leaves above our heads.

I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as much as for him to kiss me right here and right now. The realisation makes my eyes sting.

‘Bronte,’ he says sadly, seeing my expression. He steps towards me and takes me in his arms. I’m so tense. He pulls away and looks down at me. I’m almost too scared to
meet his eyes. He cups my face with his hand and rests his forehead against mine. His breathing has quickened. His lips are only inches away and oh, I remember what an incredible kisser he was. I
put my hand on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin searing my palm. He breathes in sharply and very slowly drags his nose down across my cheek until his lips are resting against my neck. I
feel like my heart is going to peter out.

‘Alex,’ I murmur, knowing he has to stop but wanting him to do anything but. I feel the heat from his mouth against my skin as he takes ragged breaths. I can’t do this. I
can’t stop. I turn my face towards him and then jolt violently as his lips find mine. He kisses me like there’s no tomorrow and at this moment, I almost wish there weren’t. I
clutch the fabric of his shirt with my fingers as his tongue delves into my mouth. My hands fly to his face and feel his five o’clock shadow beneath my fingertips as he slams me back up
against the pool shed. I want him so much. I want to feel his naked skin against mine again. We were as close as it’s possible for two people to get – no barriers, nothing. I want to be
that close to him again. But oh... It’s not going to happen.

He wrenches himself away from me and looks absolutely horrified. His expression changes into one of disgust, even though I know it’s directed at himself, not me.

‘Oh Christ, Bronte,’ he exhales in a rush of air. ‘I’m so sorry. Fuck. I’m so sorry.’ He’s mortified as he shoves his hands through his hair and clasps
his head in disbelief at what just happened. ‘Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck,’ he mutters over and over.

I watch him with distress as he paces the ground. I slowly drag the back of my hand across my mouth to wipe away the feeling of his lips on mine. I feel numb.

‘Go,’
I say. He looks wretched as he stares back at me.
‘Go!’
I say louder. I want to be alone. Grief is etched across his features. ‘Please just
go,’ I whisper. He nods abruptly and stalks quickly away.

My head is spinning as I watch him leave. He can’t marry her. He can’t. I’m in love with him and I know he feels something profound for me too. With severe effort I gather
myself together and go back to the party. I can hear Lachie singing a heartfelt acoustic rendition of ‘Love is Blindness’ as I walk towards the marquee. It doesn’t seem like the
most appropriate wedding song, but everyone is in high spirits, anyway. Alex is nowhere to be seen. I join Bridget and a couple of Maria’s friends who are fixedly staring at Lachie. I shakily
pull up a chair and sit down.

‘Where have you been?’ Bridget asks me.

‘Just taking a breather,’ I say blandly. I’ve never been a very good actress, but I really don’t want to face an aptly named Spanish Inquisition tonight. ‘I think
last night might have caught up with me.’

‘Ouch. I told Lachie, by the way.’

‘Told him what?’ I glance at her, confused.

‘That nothing happened between you and Alex. That you were just talking.’

‘Oh.’ Her information is a little outdated, I think in a daze. ‘Thanks.’

Lachie finishes his song and tells everyone that he’s taking a quick break. Music starts to play out of the speakers, courtesy of Maria’s DJ cousin. I notice Lachie go to the bar and
get himself a bottle of beer before scanning the crowd. Spying us, he comes over.