‘Oh, no, honestly, I really don’t care about a bench,’ I assure him. ‘Much less getting married on one.’
‘I can’t believe you’ve had this shipped over from England,’ Chester’s dad says. ‘It must have cost a fortune.’
‘It did,’ Dad confirms. ‘We had to pay extra, for special care, because it’s so fragile.’
I know how it feels.
‘It means the world to Seph,’ Chester tells Dad, slapping him on the back.
‘Anything for my little princess,’ Dad says with pride.
Beau looks over at us, giving us a wave.
‘Why don’t I like that guy?’ Ethan says.
‘Jealousy?’ I suggest.
‘I’m about as jealous of him as you are of Seph getting that bench,’ he tells me.
‘Will it be safe in here?’ Dad checks.
‘Completely,’ Chester’s dad replies. ‘Not only do we have multiple locks on all of the doors, but see that?’ He points above the door. ‘CCTV. Anyone who goes through that door is going to get picked up.’
‘Good, good,’ Dad replies. ‘It means such a lot to us.’
I don’t know what it is but I just can’t stand to watch any more.
‘I need to pop in, Seph is showing the girls her wedding dress, and that includes me,’ I tell Ethan, not sounding at all enthusiastic.
‘Have fun,’ he replies. ‘I’m just going to watch from a distance here, then join in when they start drinking.’
‘It’s for the best,’ I joke. ‘The two of us standing this close to anything to do with the wedding feels like an accident waiting to happen.’
I’m joking, kind of, but it’s true. As platonic friends, the fireworks that come from the two of us just aren’t going off. Together we generate too much heat but if we keep things cool then it’s all good.
We just need to make sure we keep it that way.
35
Here comes the bride…
Well, here apparently comes the bride. I’ve been sitting here waiting, on the bedroom floor, for so long now that my arse is completely asleep.
I lean back, resting my weight on my hands, as I try to wiggle the feeling back.
Bea and Joan are sitting on the bed, chatting between themselves, with not a whole lot to say to little old me. Not that I mind, of course, because with Bea I generally find that the less I speak to her the better.
The heat of the day is letting up a little now, and the gentle breeze is making the curtains dance in the wind, which is like some kind of mindfulness app, ASMR shit that makes me feel calmer than I usually would in this situation.
‘Are you looking forward to seeing the dress, Lana?’ Bea asks, dragging me into the conversation.
I mean, I’m about as interested as you would expect. I’m not one of those girls who loves wedding dresses – I couldn’t see myself tying the knot in a white dress, if I’m being honest,although if you asked anyone in my family they would say there was probably a very good, very obvious reason for that.
I am, however, a polite human, so I’m happy to play along.
‘Absolutely,’ I reply. ‘Can’t wait.’
‘There’s no need to be sarcastic,’ she ticks me off.
