‘It just feels so… inauthentic,’ he replies.
‘The church, the bells, the stained-glass windows – it’s a vibe people want for their big day, even if they’re not very religious, I guess,’ I reply.
‘Well, that won’t be me,’ he says firmly, glancing at me sideways. ‘When I get married, it’s definitely not happening in a church. Not a chance.’
I don’t say anything to that. Just smile a little to myself and watch the countryside roll by through the window.
We’ve talked about marriage before, Todd and me. It’s always been in that semi-serious way couples do – a case of when, not if – but it still hangs in the air like a maybe. And I hate that the tradition is still so one-sided. Like it’s his decision to make as the man, he gets to call the shots. He gets to plan, pick the ring, pop the question. I just have to wait. I mean, yeah, it’s 2025, that definitely needs a revamp, but at the same time there’s no way I’d want to ask him. I couldn’t do it. I’d probably mess it up – and what if he said no? I wouldn’t want to chance it, not when I’m happy now.
Todd snorts beside me, dragging me back to the present.
‘And did you catch that thing the vicar said? About them being childhood sweethearts?’ he says. ‘Together forever – except for that one year where they broke up and they both hooked up with other people. They clearly skipped that detail.’
I can’t help but laugh again.
‘You are so cynical,’ I point out.
‘I’m just observant,’ he says with a grin. ‘And realistic. They can say what they like, but half the people in there know the real story.’
This is one of the things I love about Todd. He’s a classic Yorkshire lad through and through – he says what he thinks, usually with a dry smile, never too harsh, just honest. He thinks musicals are embarrassing, yoga is a scam, and any meal that doesn’t include meat is to be glared at in disbelief. It sounds awful when I say it out loud, but somehow, it’s charming. He doesn’t say things to hurt anyone; he just doesn’t see the point in pretending. Thankfully everyone finds it charming, and he keeps more in than he lets out, believe you me.
I’m so glad that we’re doing this, it feels like I’ve hardly seen him recently, he’s been so busy with work. I have too, but my workload is nothing compared to his, so I don’t want to complain, but I have been feeling a little lonely. A night or two away, even if it is for a wedding, is just what we need to get a little of the magic back.
I look at him now, still grinning about the newly-weds’ carefully curated love story, and I wonder what the vicar (or non-religious equivalent) would say about us. Maybe marriage is on the horizon, somewhere closer than I thought. I could almost get excited…
But I don’t. Today is about Kelly and Logan. My relationship can wait.
As we pull into the venue car park I feel like I’ve stepped into a postcard. East Riddlesden Hall sits in front us, this gorgeous old building with light shining through its structure. It’s framed by thick, leafy trees, and everything’s so green it almost doesn’t look real. There’s a lake just off to the side with a weeping willow dipping its fingers into the water. It’s the kind of scene that makes you feel like you’re in the middle of a period drama – like someone’s going to ride up on horseback, a Mr Darcy type, and mumble something utterly charming.
Todd whistles low under his breath as we get out.
‘Wow, it’s nice here.’
He’s not wrong.
We walk down the path toward the barn where the wedding reception is being held, and it’s like walking into a dream. Twinkling fairy lights are strung from beam to beam overhead, and flowers – what looks like actual fresh ones, not your standard wilting supermarket bouquet – hang in glass jars and twist up the wooden columns. White curtains are draped over the stone walls to soften them, and they flutter slightly with the breeze coming in from the open barn doors. It’s romantic and beautiful and kind of ridiculously perfect.
The tables are laid out beautifully, like something from a bridal magazine, with flowers and gold cutlery, elegant name cards and more candles than a ninetieth birthday. It smells like fresh flowers and champagne, and I don’t know if that’s because both are here or they have a special diffuser made to smell like dream weddings hidden somewhere.
It’s stunning. But… it doesn’t scream Kelly and Logan to me. It’s not them. Not really. It’s like when I stage a house for clients – everything styled to perfection, everything beautiful, just a little bit detached from reality. But why not, right? They’ll look back on the photos from this day, no matter what happened, and see all of the beauty. The things they wanted to remember. Anything negative – anything not quite right, any stains on clothes, or dodgy smiles – will all be fixed by the photographer in post. Like it never happened.
We spot the bride and groom near the entrance, beaming in that way only newly-weds do. Kelly’s cheeks are flushed – she’s literally a blushing bride – and Logan’s smile is wider than I’ve ever seen it. Todd wraps Logan in a hug and tells him how amazing it all is, how happy he is for them both – completely backtracking on everything he said in the car, but with Todd it never feels fake. He means what he says, he just leaves out the negative stuff. I give Kelly a hug and tell her she looks beautiful, because she really, really does.
After chatting for a bit we head to our table. I’m instantly relieved when I see I’m next to Kelsey. It’s such a blur of weddings this year, and we all share so many friends, I’ve actually started to forget who belongs to which friend group, but Kelsey is my bestie, and her fiancé, Neil, is Todd’s – not that they would ever refer to themselves as besties, of course.
Kelsey beams with similar relief when I sit down next to her.
‘Can you believe how gorgeous it all is?’ she says. Then she lowers her voice. ‘Not very “them” though…’
‘And did you hear that stuff about them being together forever?’ Neil asks in similarly hushed tones.
They’re so like us.
‘Don’t get me started, mate,’ Todd replies as he pours himself a glass of water.
‘I know,’ I say, pulling out my chair and taking my seat. ‘It really is beautiful though. It’s like a wedding Pinterest board come to life.’
Kelsey laughs, tucking a long brown curl behind her ear.
