Kate Lawson - Mother of the Bride

Jess grinned lazily. Maybe happy ever after wasn’t just a fairy story after all.

By some stroke of genetic good fortune his skin turned the colour of golden syrup at the merest glimpse of sunshine, so that as she moved closer and slid into the crook of his arm, Jess was aware of how very pale and delicate and feminine she looked next to his strong, beautiful golden body. It gave her a little ripple of pleasure. No two ways about it, Max Peters made her mouth water and she was going to marry him and be Mrs Peters. As he pulled her closer all her doubts began to ebb away. She was going to marry Max Peters and live happily ever after and the very thought of it made her smile.

‘So, about these plans and lists,’ she murmured.

‘Plans and lists?’ he teased.

Jess nodded. ‘Uh-huh. Lots of them.’

‘That’s what the bride’s mother’s for,’ Max said, stretching again. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘I’m being serious,’ Jess said.

‘And so was I – I’m absolutely famished.’

‘About the wedding.’

‘Oh, don’t look so worried; mothers, they love it, all that arranging, the frocks, the flowers, the caterers.’

‘I’m not sure my mum’s like that,’ said Jess. ‘She’s really busy.’

Max laughed. ‘They’re all like that once you scratch the surface. You okay?’

Jess nodded. ‘Yes, I’m fine. I’m tired, a bit hung over.’ She looked at Max’s face, trying to work out what he was thinking. ‘You’re frowning? You’re not cross I asked you to help, are you? I am really excited.’

He smiled. ‘I’m not cross, baby. I’m just not great at all that kind of thing. Actually, I’m rubbish, if you want the truth. And I’m incredibly busy at the moment.’

Jess wrinkled up her nose. ‘What about when you got married first time around, didn’t you help with the arrangements then?’

‘That was a long while ago now,’ Max said, pulling himself up onto one elbow. ‘Lucy’s mother organised it all. We got married in the chapel on their family estate. All I did was turn up. If I remember correctly she even sorted out the morning suits for me and the best man. Let’s not talk about that. What do you fancy to eat? We could take a drive along the coast if you like or nip into town. Pick up something and cook it here.’

Jess made the effort to smile.

Lucy. The Honourable Lucy Troughton-Warbridge-Hays, Max’s first wife, the woman who had left Max with that whipped-puppy look. The wife who he had married when they were both too young and who he had loved with all his heart. The wife whose photograph still hung in his office even after all these years.

When Jess had pointed it out Max had blushed furiously and taken it down. ‘Sorry – you know I didn’t even notice it was there,’ he’d said, sliding it into a drawer. Lucy Troughton-Warbridge-Hays, the wife who had run off with his best friend and best man Stephen, who between them had broken his heart and ensured that Max Peters had been a career bachelor – up until now. Jess couldn’t help wonder what it was that had changed his mind. Was it that finally at forty he thought it was time that he settled down? Time to put down roots and have a family? Did he see Jess as someone special, the kind of woman he could trust and wanted to spend the rest of his life with? Surely the answer had to be yes? The thought made her feel warm and fluttery inside.

Jess looked up into his big dark eyes. ‘Do you love me, Max?’

He smiled and kissed the end of her nose. ‘What do you think?’

‘And you will help with the wedding, won’t you?’

‘Of course I will,’ Max said, and rolled back the duvet. ‘But I’ve already told you that I’m not great at that kind of stuff.’ He sounded offhand and casual, but Jess needed him to be keen, eager, and enthusiastic – and told him so.

Max, feet on the floor now, sighed. ‘I am, Jess, sweetheart, and I trust your judgement. Absolutely. After all, you’ve agreed to be my wife, haven’t you? Just shows you’ve got great judgement and the most fantastic taste.’

Jess laughed and threw a pillow at him.

And then Max got out of bed and pulled on a robe. ‘Besides,’ he said, ‘it’s no big deal.’

Jess was about to protest when Max leaned over and held a finger to her lips and then, leaning closer still, kissed her briefly. ‘Poor choice of words. What I meant was, it will all get sorted out. You have to understand I’ve got a lot on my plate at the moment, with the McKeeley project and Jacobson going live in the spring as well as all the usual crap. It’s going to be a busy few months.’

Jess stared at him, wondering whether it was meant as a joke. ‘Well, if you’re that busy maybe we ought to wait – I mean, I don’t mind waiting.’

‘Well, I do,’ said Max emphatically. ‘In my line of work you can never guarantee what the schedule is going to be. We’ve just got to seize the moment.’ Laughing, he made a tickling, nipping lunge at her which made Jess shriek and giggle, then stood over her, hands flat on the mattress, pinning her down. It was a dominant, manly, sexy gesture that made her skin tingle all over.

‘If you wanted to seize the moment maybe we should just slip away – do something romantic, drive to Scotland, get married at Gretna. I’m sure Mum and Dad would understand, ’ said Jess. ‘Just the two of us. Drag two people in off the street to be our witnesses.’

Max’s expression softened into something that made Jess’s heart melt. ‘But I don’t want us to slip away, Jess – I want everyone to see us. I want us to have the most wonderful, perfect day with all our family and friends. I want everyone to see how beautiful you are, to say, “Wow, don’t they make the most stunning couple”. I want it to be just perfect. And it will be.’

‘Oh, Max.’ Jess felt her eyes filling with tears.

‘And I’m sure your mum wouldn’t want us running off and getting hitched without any fuss,’ Max said, pushing himself back upright. ‘I’ll let the dog out and then I thought as we were up we might as well drive out to Exmoor – take Bassa for a bit of a hike and then see if we can find a nice pub somewhere. Unless you want to cook?’

‘It’s still raining,’ protested Jess.

Max laughed. ‘You won’t melt. Come on, the fresh air will do us both good. We ought to make the most of it while we’re down here. I don’t know when I’ll be able to take any more time off before the wedding.’

Wordlessly Jess got out of bed and pulled on her jeans. Actually Max was probably right, the fresh air would help clear her head. When she checked her phone there was a message from Molly. She tried to ring back but Molly had her phone on voicemail.

‘Hi, Mum. I’ve got loads to tell you and talk about, but the signal down here isn’t great. How about we come round on Saturday and we can catch up then? Love you.’ And then, still smiling, Jess hung up. She hurried downstairs, excitement drowning out the little niggling worries she had about Max.

‘Where’s Max? Couldn’t he make it?’ asked Molly, looking out into the porch through the open kitchen door. She was just sliding a batch of homemade bread out of the oven. It smelt wonderful. It was first thing on Saturday morning and making bread was Molly’s idea of relaxing after a long and busy week.

Jess, in a summer dress over leggings, bundled into the kitchen holding her coat above her head, dripping water all over the flagstone floor. Bassa, her supersized Jack Russell-mongrel-mix followed hard on her heels, tail wagging enthusiastically.

‘No, he’s had to work this weekend. We only got back late last night and he needed to get back on site. The company he’s working for are putting in some kind of new system in their new offices and he’s got to be there – that’s why we grabbed a few days away, while we could. I can see that I’m going to be an IT widow. God, that bread smells wonderful, are we having it for lunch?’