This dress was perfect.
It fitted as if it were made for me, and, most importantly, when I wore it Ifeltlike me. Wearing my grandmother’s dress, with my dad’s blessing, helped soothe some of the fraught nerves with a warm glow of hope. For a while there, I felt like a bride-to-be.
* * *
Cooper
Cooper had planned out the morning of his wedding day with scientific precision. That plan nearly went dangerously awry when he was woken up with a man leaning over his bed, flicking his nerves instantly into fight-or-flight mode. Thankfully, in the second it took him to blink the sleep from his eyes, the man came into focus, saving a potential trip to hospital to get his best man patched up, and the need to answer some very awkward questions.
‘Man. You scared the life out of me. What the hell are you doing?’
‘My job. Which you hired me to do.’ Ben spoke from behind the camera. ‘Getting some rough footage, off-the-cuff reactions.’
Cooper ran a hand through his hair, dreading to think what he’d look like after such a pathetic amount of sleep. ‘Get lost. I’ll talk to you when I’ve had coffee. And I’m dressed.’
Ben pointed to a steaming mug on the bedside table. ‘Restless night?’
‘Yes.’ Cooper attempted to clear his throat. He had a feeling this interview was happening whether he liked it or not. He might as well try to appear cooperative, pretend he wasn’t such a grumpy old fart.
‘Up all hours looking at Mrs Cooper on social media?’
‘If that comment ends up in the final cut, you’re not getting paid.’
Ben grinned from behind his camera.
‘And how are you feeling about getting married today?’
Cooper paused, waded through the fog in his head to see if he could uncover the truth about that before deciding whether to lie or not. Surprised when he came across the answer. ‘I feel ready.’
‘No regrets at this stage? Last-minute nerves? Cold feet?’
‘Nope.’
‘Still denying the many levels of absurdity that constitute this entire farce?’
Cooper swallowed a mouthful of scalding coffee. ‘Acknowledging them, and choosing to go ahead anyway.’
Ben dropped the camera. ‘Seriously, mate. The project is one thing, marrying a stranger. As if marrying someone you know isn’t a big enough risk. But you aren’t marrying a stranger. It’s Bridget’s sister. Are you sure?’
Cooper had another sip.Could anyone be sure, really?
‘I’m sure that I want to do this. That I’m going to do everything I can to make it work. Isn’t that all any of us can do, at the end of the day?’
‘Which is one of the reasons putting yourself into a position where your time, money, living arrangements, mental health, heart, soul and about 90 per cent of every decision you make are dependent on the actions and feelings of one single other person never makes logical sense.’
‘Thanks for the pep talk. You’ve clearly been reading up on how to be a best man.’
‘Yeah, well. I thought you might be more in need of a best mate.’
‘We’re not such good mates that I’m prepared to let you stand there with a camera while I get dressed.’
‘Fair point. I’ll be warming up outside.’
The pair of them smashed out ten miles before stopping at their regular café for a jumbo fry-up, and then returning home to get ready. And once Cooper had put on his new suit and tie, pinned a white rose to his lapel, and placed a box containing two rings in his pocket, he was ready to face what was going to be either one of the best or the worst things he’d ever do.
Ben drove them out to Hatherstone. He’d leave the car at the farmhouse overnight, and pick it up in the morning. A room had been booked in a nearby B & B for Emma and Cooper’s wedding night. Cooper’s phone beeped as they left the city:
She’s all ready to go. Hope you’re not feeling too nervous! And for the record, I give my full neuroscientific endorsement to the Cole Compatibility Function. You guys are going to make the best couple.
