Page 24 of A Wedding in a Week

“You’re safe, Stef,” Marc promises like he’s a harbour for me.

Am I safe though?

He repeats it. “You’re safe with me.”

He covers my hand with his again, and for the first time in a month, I let myself believe I might be.

9

It takes a while to gather myself. I do my best to pretend nothing happened. Marc on the other hand takes no prisoners, addressing what felt like surviving another head-on collision by the skin of my teeth.

I can’t believe I’m shaking. Fucking shaking. What the hell? We’ve driven a few miles, not diced with death, for God’s sake.

“You know that was completely understandable, right?” He looks as if he has more to say about what feels too close to weakness for comfort. That’s the opposite of how I want him to see me. There’s no way I can fall apart now, not in front of someone who always looked up to me, and yet these fucking shakes show no sign of quitting.

Of course, he notices. “Stef? Are you—”

Okay? Falling apart? Reliving how I almost lost everyone I have left all over again?

“Luxton?” a stranger’s voice booms before Marc finishes a question I can’t answer without lying.

I’m far from okay, but I swing around to face an old gent with a walking stick who marches across the field towards us.

“Thought it was you,” he booms again.

Someone else shouts, “Pops,” and I have no idea what’s happening.

Marc steps between us. “Can I help you?”

The older man’s voice carries. “It’s Luxton I want. Haven’t seen you since...” He falters, and whoever is with him catches up in time to read a situation that’s happened a few times since Dad’s passing.

“Pops, this isn’t Luxton. It’s his son. Stefan, isn’t it?” I’ve seen versions of this awkwardness mixed with sympathy before. “Rex Heligan,” he says after I nod. He also holds out a hand, which I can’t shake, so he lowers it. “Sorry about that. You are very like your father.”

“You really are,” the older man says. “But I’ve seen you too, haven’t I?”

I recognise him now. “Your Grace.” I don’t know why I blurt a secret to the duke of Kara-Enys. “Maybe it was when we all snuck onto your island to see your seals. Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. They aren’t my seals. Anyone who makes it past the rocks is welcome. But no, I didn’t see you then.” He peers at my sling. “Of course. It was on the news. You went over that bloody cliff, didn’t you?”

I close my eyes again. “Nearly.” I have to force them open. It’s harder this time because I see pain, front and centre, only it isn’t a reflection of mine.

I don’t know why Rex Heligan’s eyes swim, or why he says, “Those bloody cliffs,” until the duke speaks.

“We lost someone over them once.”

I swivel back to face him.

“Now we fish lost souls from the water underneath them, and that’s why we’re needed elsewhere right now, but do let me know if you need anything while you recover. Anything at all, for you or your family. Rex, give Luxton a card.”

He does.

I can’t take it while my hands still shake. Marc does it for me, sliding it into a folder he’s brought with him.

Then they go. I’m only aware that Marc takes my uninjured elbow, steering me to an entrance where he accepts a flyer. He tells me that it lists all the wedding fair vendors on one side with a garden map on the other, but I can’t see it.

All I see is foaming water. Churning waves. Rocks.

So many of them.

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