Page 33 of A Wedding in a Week

“It was,” John says from much closer. He doesn’t exactly elbow me out of the way, but he comes close, lending a hand by pouring water into a cafetière from the boiling kettle. “The man had to fight off a hell of a lot of competition for your mother.”

That’s news to me. “What competition?”

“Only virtually every other unmarried farmer in the county.”

I can’t imagine my dad fighting. I mean, I’d seen him get physical plenty, and be tenacious, but that was all farm related, which John picks up on.

“Not that there were any real fisticuffs, but Richard went all out when he thought his Emma might get her head turned. Needn’t have bothered. Your mum knew what she wanted. The other guys didn’t get a look in.”

“No?” I stand back and let him carry the coffee to the table, and he must know who I’ve made it for—he places it next to Marc’s plate. I also catch a flash of auburn across the yard through the window, so I walk back to my seat, taking the long way around the table, moving slowly enough that I get to see more.

Marc’s outside the barn, focussed on his phone the same way he was the morning Lukas woke me early.

Was that really only four days ago?

There’s no reason for my heart to sink at the same sight this morning, is there? I don’t need to drop so heavily into my seat either. Marc won’t be messaging someone from that app, not after what John almost caught us doing.

Or would he?

No.

Marc probably just got a selfie from my brother or a message full of typical Lukas bullshit. At least that means he must have surfaced from a date that maybe was more serious than any of his many others, given the lack of messages he usually fills my phone with.

John picks up his Farmers Weekly again, but he’s still on a trip down memory lane. “Emma only had eyes for your dad, but he took a while to believe it. Still thought he had stiff competition from one young farmer in particular, so he went all out to keep her.”

Do I still have competition?

Marc jogs back across the yard with Jess, who’s whiter around the muzzle these days, but she comes to life around him.

I know that feeling.

It ripples through me as she skips around his legs like a puppy on the way in, then flops to the floor to show him her belly. I’m tempted to do the same the moment Marc takes his seat and scoots it closer to mine. He also thrusts his phone into my eyeline. “Look.”

I do, taking in that he shows me an email and not a stupid selfie from my brother or worse, another message from that dating app guy. “They reviewed the initial presentation slides. The practice manager suggested I use a lot more photos, but they liked the premise.”

“Liked it? Looks like they loved it.”

“Yeah,” he says softly. He’s delighted, although anyone who doesn’t know him like I do might miss it. It comes with the same glow I remember. I don’t know how else to describe it. I mean, he smiles, but it’s more than that. Much more. Something lights him from the inside. It happens again as soon as he notices the coffee I made for him.

I’m a tea man, the coffee is probably too strong and bitter, but he takes a sip and glows all over again, and I want more of that for him.

I want it so much that I ignore John’s quiet snort from across the table. I can’t ignore what Marc says once breakfast is over though. He refills his mug and takes it with him, stopping for a moment in the doorway. “See you this evening?”

I nod. I also see John wink, and he’s almost as much of a dick as what’s left of my family, but I also know what I have to do as soon as both John and Marc are gone.

I don’t want to.

I really don’t.

But this second chance with Marc is worth it, so I pull out my phone and call my brother.

* * *

“Hey,” I say before Lukas gets a chance to pick up from where John left off teasing. “That date you had was a pretty big deal, right?” It must have been for him to shoot back to London to see her at short notice.

My brother is instantly cagey, which suggests that yes, this girl is special. It’s also ironic given he’s congenitally nosy. His reply draws out, long and thready. “Yes, and I’ve actually got another.” Then he’s silent, and that’s unusual for him, but he quickly rallies. “Why do you want to know?”

I can’t believe I ask this. “If your next date were here instead of London, where would you go out for dinner?”

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