* * *
Much later, when all the guests have gone, Barrett and I stand in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by twinkling fairy lights, enormous flower arrangements and a quiet army of staff, clearing away the evidence of the wedding. Despite the lack of music, we sway in one another’s arms, needing nothing but the beat made by our hearts.
‘This place is pretty special.’ I shift my gaze away from him, to look towards Ashwyn Hall. It is like he described, but so much more homely than I’d imagined as well. I’ve been here three times. Once to meet his parents and then, a little over two months ago, for my thirtieth birthday—his parents insisted on organising dinner and a cake. That was the night we got engaged—not far from here, beneath an enormous, ancient oak tree. Somehow, in the intervening months, they pulled this beautiful country wedding together. It was everything I could have hoped for—but, to be honest, so long as I was marrying Barrett I wouldn’t have cared where or when.
‘It’s home—’ he grins ‘—