Page 54 of The Wedding Forecast

I DON’T GET drunk, I can’t get drunk, because it’s my job to undo Hayley’s buttons at the end of the night, and I will not fail the undo as well as the do up. Undoing has to be easier, anyway. Surely. We could just cut them off. No, Hayley will never go for that. I am, maybe, on my way to being drunk, just a little bit. Or maybe a lot.

I am still perfectly capable of handling forty-three buttons.

It’s late now, almost midnight, and I am convinced the only way I can carry on dancing and partying is if I change shoes. I decide I am going to walk back to the Airbnb, put on my comfortable flats, and then walk back to the wedding reception. A round trip that should take me half an hour. I don’t quite think through the walking along a road in the dark by myself bit. It seems reasonable in this moment.

‘Anna!’ a voice behind me calls.

It’s Patrick, in the car park, packing his camera gear into his car. I can’t believe he’s still here.

‘Patrick!’ I shout back happily. I almost say ‘my soulmate’. Jesus. I need to rein it in.

‘Where are you going?’ he asks.

‘Back to change my shoes.’

‘I can give you a lift, if you’d like.’

‘That would be absolutely and stupendously wonderful, thank you,’ I babble, almost falling into the front seat of his car.

‘I’m at your service,’ he says. He finishes packing his equipment into the backseat, and gets in the car. He’s so nice. I like him. Well, I want to like him, I know I should like him, which is almost the same thing. I am hoping I said none of that out loud. I stare out the window.

‘It’s been really nice meeting you,’ Patrick says.

‘It’s nice meeting you too,’ I say.

‘Hayley has my number,’ he says. ‘If you want to, I’d love to see you again.’

I look at him, and there, yes, I do feel something. Attraction. Ease. (Don’t look at his dexterous fingers on the steering wheel.)

‘I would like that,’ I say and we smile at each other. ‘You’ll be hearing from me,’ I add. That sounded threatening, rather than flirtatious, but it’s the best I can do right now.

‘Oh, there’s your friend,’ he says, and there’s Mac on the road ahead of us, walking. Patrick slows down.

‘Want a lift?’ he says. Mac looks at the two of us sitting in the car together.

‘Nah, mate, I’m fine,’ he says. He looks quite drunk.

‘Mac, get in,’ I say.

‘I’m fine,’ he says, a little more forcefully.

‘It’s dangerous, on the road, in the dark,’ I say, as if I wasn’t about to do the same thing.

‘I’ll survive,’ he says and Patrick shrugs and pulls away and I watch Mac in the rear-view mirror until we turn the corner.

Patrick pulls up at the house and we smile and shuffle around and say awkward things to each other, and then I get out in the most dignified way I can, considering I am struggling to do anything in my heels. Patrick waves and drives off, and I walk into the house.

Joel is sitting at the table, by himself, scrolling on his phone. I assume Bianca is in bed.

‘Hi,’ he says.

‘Hi,’ I say.

‘Good night?’ Joel asks.

‘Yep. You?’

‘Yeah, it was nice.’