I maintain her for for much longer. “Thanks, Mum.” I pat the cool bag and take the thermos of tea she’s crammed. “And thanks for all of this.”

“You’re so welcome.” For a second, she’s pink and fairly like within the wedding ceremony photograph on the wall behind her. “You’re all set.” She frowns. “Or virtually. Maintain on.” She darts again to the kitchen, coming again with a buttonhole that’s seen higher days however nonetheless smells candy, which is how I find yourself jogging throughout fields dressed for a marriage.

Perhaps I wasn’t the one one who set a timer—Marc’s ready for me.

He sits on the five-bar gate resulting in the headland, slipping down from it to take the thermos, releasing up one among my fingers to steer me to the place he and Hayden have been working, solely it hasn’t been on tents, like I anticipated.

My arch is on the headland.

It frames a sundown view of glinting water and of Kara-Enys within the distance, precisely like I pictured.

“Come and see the tent.”

I do, instantly seeing why they wanted extra time—there isn’t solely the tent that Hayden promised down within the sheltered hole. He and Marc have strung what seems to be like a thousand fairy lights round it. They flicker right here the place the headland blocks the sundown, turning this spot virtually magical.

Marc exhibits me the photographs he’s taken of it so as to add to our shows, and so they’re precisely what I imagined however couldn’t make occur with out him, so excellent I choke on repeating what I simply informed Mum. “Thanks.”

“Thank Hayden,” Marc says quietly whereas simply as pink with pleasure as my mom, the pink in his hair clashing as a lot as ever, and I flood with one thing so robust I can’t breathe round it. Can’t communicate round it. Can’t do something however nod.

Hayden should have dug into the cool bag up on the headland. I hear him shout, “Okay if I dig in?” nevertheless it’s Marc who solutions.

“Go forward.”

Marc nonetheless holds my hand. Nonetheless meets my gaze. Nonetheless solely has eyes for me, and I’ll should breathe quickly. I’ll should. I can’t but, or discuss, so Marc fills my silence, solely he does a lot greater than that, like he’s crammed excess of my function on this farm or plugged greater than the hole left in my household. He’s crammed me with hope for a distinct future, leaving no room for doubt or second-guessing.

Marc offers one other instance. “Hayden and I talked whereas we labored. About you and me. I informed him I hadn’t anticipated this between us, or I wouldn’t have agreed to satisfy him, nevertheless it’s been a very long time coming. Us, I imply.”

I clasp his hand tighter.

Marc doesn’t flinch or pull free. He solely says, “I informed him the way you’ve all the time been it for me.”

The whole lot that’s waited for a lot longer than per week needs to spill out, or unfurl like new leaves do from every seed I plant on this land. They attain for the solar the identical means I now attain for the precise phrases.

I really feel the identical about you too, isn’t sufficient. Neither is I would like you to remain it doesn’t matter what occurs tomorrow.

Hayden calls out once more, and I can’t hate his interruption, not when wanting to inform Marc one thing that solely wants three phrases leaves me speechless.

Would saying them be an excessive amount of too quickly?

Hayden saves me by bawling from the headland, “You two don’t need any of this meals, proper?” and Marc grins. He additionally tightens his personal grip and tugs me again up the slope to the place Hayden proves he wasn’t ever the precise man for Marc. He can’t be, not when he holds up a scone he’s damaged open to spoon cream onto first as an alternative of jam, the heathen.

He does say, “That is fucking scrumptious,” so I’ll forgive him. He additionally provides, “I’ve obtained to go,” and I might be taught to love him as a lot as Marc should to place collectively a correct cream tea for him, jam unfold first prefer it ought to be. Solely he doesn’t give it to Hayden.

He holds it to my lips.

I do know I take a chunk. I watch him do the identical as I chew and swallow. He additionally pulls out his telephone and asks for a ultimate photograph. “Earlier than you go, yeah? A final one among me and Stef with the sundown behind us?”

Marc places me the place he needs me, which is beneath an arch that’s now studded with gorse, darkish inexperienced sprigs flecked with shiny bursts of yellow.

Marc plucks some. “Ow. Shit. Fucking thorns.” He pokes the gorse in with my buttonhole rose, then sucks a finger he should have pricked a number of occasions already whereas making this final shot match his imaginative and prescient for Love-Land Weddings.

As a result of that’s what that is, I realise, one other image of untamed moors assembly the ocean with my farm wedged between them, all coming into stark focus the second he asks, “Wish to maintain fingers for it?”

I would like much more than that, however I say, “I do,” regardless, my flip to flush at how full-on that comes out sounding.

Marc loops his arms round my neck first, unfastening my sling and murmuring, “You understand we’re doing this all backwards, don’t you?”

“What do you imply?”

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