Page 83 of A Wedding in a Week

I’ve made room for him in my home. Room for him in my life. Now all I need is room for him to work at what he’s best at, but if tomorrow doesn’t pan out, at least I’ve tried my hardest for him.

Mum joins me on the headland, close to where a honeymoon tent once stood for Marc’s photos. Now that creamy canvas version of five-star luxury isn’t in that sheltered hollow below us. Smaller guest tents stand in a circle there this evening, dusted with fairy lights and what must be pixie magic, they look so enchanted.

One of my own pixies says, “It’s all beautiful, love.” She also grabs my hand the next time Hayden whoops, and a dance floor lights up under our feet, strobes flashing so bright they must be visible all the way to Kara-Enys. All we need is music.

I get another wish granted then, God help me—disco beats pump before switching for something slower, and I’m still not a natural dancer, but with Mum smiling up at me I don’t trip over my feet. I swing her in circles, and if anyone had told me I’d be this full of optimism while this close to the cliffs, I wouldn’t have believed them.

Now I only have a single wish left for one more person I’d swing in slow circles on this dance floor if I had the chance to. I send that wish up to where the first evening star winks over High Tor.

It’s early for a star to be so bright.

It can’t be Venus—it’s the wrong part of the sky for that low-hanging planet. Tonight, this lone star gets bigger, only it isn’t the first star of the evening. It isn’t Venus either.

It’s a light fixed to a helicopter, the whomp of its rotors drowning out the music before shooting overhead on its way to Kara-Enys.

I make a silent promise while spinning Mum away in the other direction.

I’ll take Noah over there to visit. Take him as many places as I can. Show him that there’s a whole other world outside of that fucking hellhole estate, if Social Services agree that kinship care here is his best option. But first I’ll keep him safe on the farm for a whole summer, only I won’t wrap him up in cottonwool like I tried with Lukas.

I send that promise up too, even though there aren’t stars out yet to wish on, not until one returns, coming from a seaward direction this time.

Rex Heligan circles back, that bright light blinding, the whomp of rotors drowning out the music again as he lands, and I would have made a presentation for the man who gets out weeks earlier than I expected the moment those rotors stop turning.

I would have.

I would have stood in front of however many people it took to prove he’s got so much to give, and not only to Cornwall, even if I had to stutter and stumble all the way through.

I would have made that pitch for him.

Now I won’t have to.

Marc sprints, maybe as fast I did that time I thought he’d fall before I reached him. Tonight he leaps, and I catch him.

I’ve felt relief a few times in my life. It’s easy to list them with him in my arms. I don’t need to speak them aloud—impossible anyway while we’re kissing—but I see each and every moment. There’s when Lukas survived his procedure. Then there’s Noah doing the same, a blade pulled from Marc’s heart too, I bet. I know that feeling, and I’m washed with relief all over again because, yes, I would have made Marc’s presentation for him, but he’ll do it so much better.

Lights flash. Music resumes. Others join us to dance, and I don’t think life can get any better.

Then it does. We stand between swaying couples, and my heart comes close to exploding.

“The safeguarding team agreed.” Marc’s breath coasts my ear before he turns me so I see a boy bookended between two Heligans. “Noah’s staying.”

We don’t dance for long—Noah’s tired, and this celebration is a trial run, not the real deal, but everyone agrees to come back tomorrow evening.

“Might as well make the most of it all, right?” I tell the last man to leave. “Give you all a real party to say thanks.” I shake Hayden’s hand, not letting go of Marc’s while I do it, but I don’t think Hayden holds that against me. He probably sees that I can’t help it—that I still can’t believe that Marc’s here.

I tell him so the moment Noah’s settled, already sleeping with Jess on guard at the end of his bed, and Mum standing by downstairs in case he wakes up. “Just while you two catch up.” She practically shoves us out into the yard, and I don’t know if Marc hears her whisper, “Lead and follow, remember,” but he lets me take the lead back to where that helicopter landed.

“I can’t believe you did this.” He explores that borrowed ring of guest tents, fairy lights glittering like his eyes. “Couldn’t believe it when Lukas told me what you were planning either.”

I’ll have to thank my brother later for bringing us together for a second time. Or kill him for spilling a secret designed not to raise hopes. For now I focus on Marc. On his reaction. On the question he asks.

I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure he doesn’t ever have to second-guess again.

“You really want me here, don’t you?” He also asks, “Where’s the honeymoon tent?” He answers his own question, his turn to lead, but I’ve never had a problem with following Marc. Look at where it’s led me so far. I’d follow him forever—even in tonight’s darkness. I won’t stumble, not when he knows this land as well as I do.

We pass through an archway together. This one is natural, made of tree boughs leading into the woods. That old oak at its centre is still the tallest on my land. The clearing it stands in will be pretty tomorrow, full of wildflowers and sunlight. Tonight it’s another spot of moonlit magic, the honeymoon tent ringed by more than fairy lights. Marc also circles it. Then he looks up.

“So many stars, Stef.”

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