Page 27 of A Wedding in a Week

Then he turns the card over and I see why he hesitated.

Our names are linked like those gold bands. “Stefan and Marc.” It’s my turn to sound gritty. “Partners at Love-Land Weddings?”

“Y-you don’t have to keep the name. Or have me as a business partner. It’s just for the case study. For the presentation in.... shit, in five fucking days.” He rubs the back of his neck. “In only five days,” he repeats faintly.

I take in a deep slow breath, then let it out even slower.

He does the same, panic over, determination its replacement. “This is me showing the Penzance practice that I’d see each business I worked with as a partner. Not in terms of expecting a split of the profits, but in sharing the same goals. In finding them the right funding and showcasing whatever makes them uniquely Cornish. Whatever makes their business special.” He touches the green edge of the card. “Like your land.” His fingertip covers one of those pasties. “And your mum’s baking. A-and…”

He trips over his words when nothing he’s done needs justifying. Not to me. He also bites his lip again, and I’m not sure that he’s finished.

“And?” I ask quietly. I don’t know why that brings Dad to mind, apart from he used to drop his voice the same way, quiet and reassuring, with livestock heavy enough to crush him. “You can tell me what else you think is special,” I promise, and that’s what Marc does—he crushes me too, only in a good way.

“And you, Stef. You. You’re everything Love-Land stands for. John said as much this morning about your dad buying the headland. It resonated with me. Reminded me of you so strongly. He wanted the best life possible for you all, didn’t he?”

I nod.

“I didn’t only crunch your numbers yesterday.” He meets my eyes. “I thought about what they cost you.”

“What do you mean?”

“The farm funded your mum’s cream-by-post business, didn’t it?”

“Just the start-up costs. She wanted to stay involved, only she wanted to give me space too. Selling Kara-Tir cream means she’s still part of the farm, but we aren’t in each other’s pocket.”

“You pay Lukas’ rent too. That’s not cheap.”

“Did you see the place his student loan covered?” How could he rest somewhere that cramped and noisy? “Anyway, the farm pays, not me. The land belongs to him as well.”

“What do you pay yourself?”

I don’t answer.

“Stef, you’ve paid me for every week I’ve worked here. What do you pay yourself?”

“Enough.” He has to know already, just like he must know the farm can’t carry any more outgoings.

“Does Lukas know that his rent is over twice what you draw? That John’s pension contribution is more too?”

“He hasn’t got many years left. To retirement, I mean. Every penny counts. He’s worked hard. I want him to enjoy it when he stops, not worry about keeping the lights on.”

Marc inhales again, slow and steady, and I grasp that’s because I’ve stopped breathing. I don’t know why. It’s not as if any of this is a surprise to me. But it’s also non-negotiable, and not because I’m some kind of soft touch, or idiot, or angel. I just know life’s short, and I wish to fuck I didn’t.

He also changes the subject, or gets back on track, circling back to where he started.

“So this morning I heard about your dad diversifying like you keep trying to.” Marc turns that small card over and over. “He must have had to convince people to believe in him enough to lend him the money. That’s what I want to make easier, if I get the enterprise consultant spot, for people like you.” His glance flicks my way. “But the name resonated too. Kara-Tir. Love-Land. So I thought… I thought…”

He scrubs at his face for a second, a flush visible once he drops his hands.

“Go on,” I murmur again while people chat at stalls around us, this garden full of potential bridal parties. I don’t tune into their wedding-dress or cake-tier conversations. I’m more interested in knowing what he’s thinking because everything he’s said resonates with me too. I’m fascinated. He’s fascinating. Now we’ve started, I don’t want him to stop talking.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he admits. “Apart from what reminds me most of Cornwall. About what might make a Love-Land wedding unique. So everything I added to the design of these cards is what I’d want at a Cornish wedding. Like that sea view.” He touches the blue wave. “And this backdrop.”

“High Tor,” I murmur, taking the card and looking closer at a craggy outline on the greener section. “How the fuck did you add that?”

“With an app. I sketched it and then dragged and dropped it. Nothing special.”

It looks pretty special to me. “And that’s the old tin mine chimney.” I turn the card over, noticing what I hadn’t at first glance. I squint. “Wait. What’s that?”

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