The Wedding

Old habits die hard, and I am waiting for someone to jump out at me and tell me that I have been punked or wake up from this amazing dream I have been having. Time is flying by and, while Jackson and I seem to be living in our little bubble of bliss, I can’t help the nagging suspicion that nothing this good can be real.

“What are you thinking, Kat?” Jackson asks as we zoom down the motorway towards Devon, comfortably ensconced in Jackson’s truck. When he’d turned up in this ‘monstrosity’ I hadn’t been able to hide my surprise; somehow, I saw him in some kind of sleek sports car rather than this 1950s Chevy truck that has been lovingly restored. Turns out Jackson is also a little bit of a grease monkey on the side, restoring old cars and trucks when he’s not on tour. Yet another little nugget of information that I file away for future reference.

“Um, nothing really,” I say. “Just a bit nervous about meeting all your friends.” I fidget with my fingers in my lap, plucking at the soft fabric of the mint green cocktail dress that I’m wearing. “Do you think this dress is okay?” I ask for the hundredth time.

“You look gorgeous,” Jackson reassures me. “Stop stressing, they are going to love you.”

Hmph. That’s what he thinks. I still burn with embarrassment at my behaviour that night Jackson had to drag me off the bar, and I can’t think of anything worse than having to come face to face with Chase, the drummer of the band, who was witness to my humiliation. Time to put my big girl panties on and face the music.

The journey goes much quicker than anticipated and soon we are pulling up at the gates of a massive private estate in the middle of nowhere. Jackson confirms our identity with the scary-looking security guys who wave us through with a grunt. Clearly not the greatest of conversationalists then.

We follow the long winding drive up to the main house, or should I say bloody great big mansion, that has been hired by Brody and his wife-to-be, Cara, for their wedding this weekend. My mind flicks back to a couple of days ago when Jackson asked me to accompany him to the wedding. I had been resistant at first. But somehow the combination of him and Finn finally wore me down, and I capitulated, a decision I am starting to regret as I spy the groups of gorgeous people and the occasional celebrity making their way into the main entrance.

Jackson parks up and then hops out of the truck. He grabs our bags out of the back cab and then comes around to help me out of the high vehicle.

“Thanks,” I say as he grabs me around my waist and swings me down, giving me a moment to settle on my skyscraper heels before releasing me.

“I’ll take our bags up to our room,” Jackson says once we have made our way into the large foyer that is currently filling up with people dressed to the nines in wedding regalia. “And then I will need to go find Brody and make sure I know what my groomsman duties are.”

“Okay,” I whisper, slightly apprehensive at being left alone with all these people I have never met before. It’s crazy, I know. I spend most of my time interacting with strangers, but this is completely different. In the bar, I have a great big piece of wood separating me from the patrons which, weirdly, gives me a feeling of safety. And I don’t have to interact beyond finding out what they want to drink. Plus, I know that Finn or Devon, or even Sam and Bailey are around to have my back. Here, I will be completely alone, and it scares me stiff. Jackson plants a kiss on my lips before heading up the stairs.

I glance around and spot a sign for the ladies’ room. Great, I’ll go hide in there for twenty minutes, and hopefully by that point, Jackson should be finished. I lock myself in the furthest cubicle, immensely grateful for the invention of the smartphone. I put the lid down on the toilet and make myself as comfortable as I can in my tight dress. I catch up on social media updates, check my emails and then send one to Soph who is currently trekking through Yosemite in the States on yet another assignment. My phone suddenly beeps—Jackson is looking for me. I tap out a quick response telling him that I am in the loo and will meet him back in the foyer. With a sigh, I steel myself before exiting the bathroom to go in search of my man.

The ceremony is lovely; the weather has behaved beautifully, and the happy couple exchange their vows under an arbour of fragrant jasmine. A light breeze tickles the tendrils of hair that have escaped from the messy bun at the nape of my neck bringing with it some relief from the intense sunshine. As Brody and Cara finally kiss, I find myself welling up at the utter devotion I see in their eyes. Once the couple have walked back down the aisle under a flurry of rose petals, it is time to mingle.

With a glass of crisp champagne in one hand and the other arm firmly tucked around my waist, Jackson guides me around introducing me to the other members of the band and their respective other halves. I do my best to make small talk and my cheeks start to ache from the effort of smiling. Everyone is friendly enough, but it is clear my reputation has preceded me, and I catch the sideways glances when Jackson isn’t looking.

I make it through the meal, and while I am sure the food must be lovely, the pit of vipers in my stomach makes it impossible to eat more than a couple of mouthfuls. The rest I push around my plate whilst Jackson laughs and jokes with the other people at the table. By the time coffee is being served and the speeches are finally over, my head is pounding.

“Jackson,” I whisper. “I need to go grab some painkillers from my bag.”

“You okay?” he replies, concern written all over his face.

“Just a headache.” I force a smile onto my face. I don’t want to tell him how uncomfortable I feel amongst his friends.