Jane Linfoot - Christmas Promises at the Little Wedding Shop - Celebrate Christmas in Cornwall with this magical romance!

She wrinkles her nose and looks down at her cropped sweatshirt, which is hiding a neat, yet surprisingly sizable, bump. ‘I didn’t have a muffin yesterday either. Midwife’s orders. I’ve cut back on carbs, and taken up Pregnancy Pilates, and Yoga for Mums.’

‘That’s harsh .’ I don’t mean to sound negative. It’s just hard to think of nine low-sugar months, with that much exercise.

‘It’s not for long.’ Poppy’s frown deepens as she shrugs it off. ‘Although there is something else I’ve been meaning to mention. About who the cakes are for.’

As the sound of the shop door opening echoes along the hallway, Jess beams at me over the top of her lion. ‘You’ve got a complete treat in store here, Holly. Poppy’s been baking for the owner of Huntley and Handsome. A lovely boy, he gives us the most fabulous deal on our Prosecco …’ Those words sound like a horribly familiar echo of what Santa said yesterday.

My mouth drops open midbite as her words sink in. Surely she can’t mean … Rory? As I gasp in disbelief, a lump of sponge goes straight down my windpipe, and a second later I’m coughing into my fist, eyes watering as I struggle to breathe. If you’ve ever had a violent choking fit that turns into a humungous sneeze, you’ll know what I’m going through. Even as I’m fighting for air, I’m desperate not to expel a throat full of chewed up cupcake, and spatter the entire rail of exquisite bridal dresses with bright orange cake crumbs.

Through my half closed eyes, I see Poppy, launching herself across the room. Then there’s a noise like flapping angel wings and she’s thrusting a handful of tissues into my hands to catch my sneeze. By the time I look up from blowing my nose, the dresses are saved. And Jess’s beam is wide enough to stretch from one chandelier to the other.

Poppy’s voice is a low murmur as her hand lands on my shoulder. ‘Sorry, Hols, there’s a blast from the past coming that I know you’re going to hate. Rory Sanderson’s come for his cupcakes horribly early. I promise I’ll explain it all later.’

It’s my own fault. If I’d had the guts to admit about bumping into him twice before, no doubt Poppy would have told me. At least this time I get to watch him walk in from the high ground of the mother-of-the-bride throne where I’m sitting. And I’m already a hundred per cent scarlet due to choking. Even so, his footfalls on the floorboards send prickles up the back of my neck. Whoever said attack is the best form of defence, I’m going to take their advice.

As I see the first, horribly familiar, weathered brown Timberland come through the doorway, I jam my mouth into a smile, scrape the last stray cake crumbs off my mouth, look up at the approximate place where his head is about to appear, and fire.

‘Rory Sanderson, one more time. Just when I thought I’d waved goodbye to you for another twenty years, too.’ I sink back against the cushions, but the hurtling retort I’m bracing myself for doesn’t come.

Instead of storming in, tearing up the the White Room with his super-confident swagger, Rory’s coming in at a shuffle. Leaning over to one side, so he can reach down to hold the hand of a small girl.

‘Wow.’ I’m not sure if I say that in my head or out loud.

At a guess, looking at his daughter’s pale silky hair, Rory’s partner’s a blonde. As if a rock god would settle for anything less. If her disagreeable pout came from her mum, it’s obvious he’s chosen looks over personality. Although for once Rory’s incessant grin has given way to a frown too as he clasps a rather over-sized baby tightly against the folds of his Superdry windcheater.

He pulls a ‘holy crap’ face at me over the top of the baby’s head and blinks. ‘Holly, right, great, hi.’ It’s a big change to see Mr Sanderson looking less than delighted with himself. Although the bad side is that when his dimples disappear, it makes the hollows under his cheekbones look even deeper.

Now I’ve seen who’s actually arriving here, I’m regretting my over-explosive ‘hello’. Somehow, even though I saw the car seats, the small people come as a complete shock. If I’d hoped for something to wipe Nate and Becky and Luc out of my mind, it definitely wasn’t this. Kids have that strange effect of making everyone around them more gentle. And although Rory doesn’t exactly look like a relaxed dad, having children hanging off him has certainly taken the fire power out of his smart-arse replies. As for Jess, she isn’t hanging round for an air kiss with her favourite Huntley and Handsome hunk either. Her expression is equal parts terror and horror as she shoots behind the desk. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything make Jess recoil this fast backwards before. Retreating isn’t her style.

Poppy is the one person in the room who looks delighted, as she clasps her hands and moves towards them. ‘So are you going to introduce us, Rory?’ Her eyes are shining as she smiles down at the girl. Which might well be down to her baby hormones. ‘We don’t often have visitors as exciting as you in the wedding shop. Although we do have lots of children at our farm. And I think you’re going to like the animals there too.’

I wonder where the hell she’s going with this, because the frown she’s sending me is equal parts worry and guilt.

Rory shakes his head, as if he’s trying to wake himself up. ‘Er, right ladies, this is Gracie. And Eddie.’

The girl pats his arm with her free hand and mumbles into his sleeve. ‘No, it’s Teddie.’

Rory gives a sheepish grin. ‘Oh shit, fine, okay. What she said.’ Even for a prat like Rory, this is taking disinterested fatherhood to a new level.

‘We’ve got some mini cupcakes here for you.’ Poppy holds out the box to the child.

Gracie hangs back. ‘Teddie isn’t allowed icing … he’s too small. And Mummy doesn’t let me say shit. Plops is gooder.’ She sounds like she’s channelling her inner disapproving headmistress.

Poppy, undeterred, flips up the box lid to reveal a whole miniature set of what we were tucking into. ‘They’re animals. Holly just ate a cat and Jess had a lion.’

Gracie wrinkles her nose. ‘I mainly have Frozen cupcakes … blue ones with snowflakes … and pictures of Anna and Elsa.’

Poppy’s holding back her amusement. ‘Maybe you’d better take these for later, then.’

Rory lets out an exasperated sigh. ‘Well, this is going well. Not.’ He looks at the baby in the crook of his arm, then down at the girl squirming behind his knee. Then at me. ‘C’mon Gracie, I’m running out of hands here, the least you can do is hold the box.’ A second later, the weight of a large baby lands in my lap, and he’s picked Gracie up with both hands and dumped her down in front of Poppy.

‘Eeeek!’ When it comes to babies this near, I’m with Jess. Although as I close my fingers round Teddie’s hoodie, and the scent of fabric conditioner drifts up my nose, I can’t believe how soft and squishy he feels. Or how heavy he is. ‘You do know I might drop him?’ I’m not sure I ever held a baby before. One of Rory’s is making me extra shaky. My cheeks burning up are only to be expected.

Poppy’s biting her lip. ‘When did you pick them up, Rory? Even Rafe thought you’d last more than ten minutes before you tried to pass them on.’