Page 55 of Just Say Christmas
Hayden tried to say something, and he couldn’t. “So come on,” Luke said. “Let’s go somewhere quieter, where I can see you and you can see me, and we’re not shouting out our deepest secrets. Because I want to kiss you.”
Hayden had an elbow on the table, his hand in his perfect hair. “It’s not this easy,” he said. “It’s never this easy.”
“Yes,” Luke said. The jubilation was filling him, lifting him up, making him strong. “It can be. It is.”
29
Husband School
Thursday,December 17
ZORA
It was three-thirty on Thursday afternoon, and Zora had nineteen home-delivery Christmas centerpieces begun on the tables in the flower shed, not to mention an endless mountain of prep for Marko and Nyree’s enormous wedding. Two hundred fifty guests, forty-plus of them staying at the ultra-luxury venue of Northland’s Kauri Cliffs for three nights, taking the whole place over—sandy beaches, towering cliffs, golf course, and all—starting on Saturday. That was the day after tomorrow,a fact that sent afrissonof cold panic down her spine, and brought with it an unaccustomed and unwelcome wave of fatigue.
There was heaps going on, but they were all good things, right? Rhys and the kids had promised their help, and the wedding would be brilliant publicity for Zora’s Florals. She and Isaiah had left for the flower market at five this morning, though, almost twelve hours ago, and that had only been the beginning.
Four more days, and she could relax. She’d take them one day at a time. You could always do one more day.
At least Marko and Nyree weren’t having much in the way of wedding attendants. No eight bridesmaids and groomsmen. In fact,nobridesmaids. Even the maid of honor, Victoria, would be seated up front, playing the cello, “and she can’t exactly hold a bouquet and a bow, so no need for that.”
The ceremony itself was intended to be pretty casual, “so I don’t stress out, and Marko doesn’t hate it,” Nyree had said. Right now, that felt like a stroke of good fortune rather than a sad loss of revenue. Nyreedidwant an arbor for the ceremony, though—“a simple arbor,” she’d said, which was a contradiction in terms—twenty-five centerpieces for the tables seating all those two hundred fifty guests, and floral arrangements for the most important guest rooms and villas. She’d said, “I want flowers, because I love them, and I want people to feel special when they arrive. I want to let themknowthey’re special from the flowers. Marko’s grandmother, for example. Her arrangement has to be a sort of deep purple, which isn’t anything close to the wedding flowers, and I’m not sure how to handle that. I want every one of them to be the right color. I want this to be welcoming.”
Zora had eyed her with some surprise. Nyree had seemed, before this, like the polar opposite of a Bridezilla, despite the venue and the number of guests. She wanted her flowers to be red and orange, “and tropical, I’m hoping, and exciting, because Marko and Iarered and orange,” which was an unusual way to put it, but had been refreshingly clear-cut, as a direction. Nyree said, though, glancing at Marko, then back at Zora, “You think that’s odd. The different colors for the rooms. Is that too much to do? It can be the same kind of flower, if that’s easier. It’s just . . . I need the colors.”
Yes, another unusual thing about Nyree was that she’d brought Marko with her, and shehadn’tbrought her mother. Of course, her mother lived in Dunedin, but that didn’t always stop mothers from getting involved. Zora would have guessed, though, that Marko was the absolute last man in the world who’d have cared about his wedding flowers. She said, “Of course you can have the colors you want for the guest rooms. I can do anything, as long as you’re willing to pay for it. I can offer more economical alternatives, if that’s an issue.”
Marko said, “It’s not an issue.”
“Because it’s being subsidized byWoman’s World,”Nyree said. “Not because we’re so flash. We’re covering the rest of the budget, though. And when I say ‘we,’ of course, I mean ‘Marko.’”
“We,” he said.
Nyree went on, ignoring that, “As it’s probably the only time in my life that I’ll ever make my mother happy—other than when I give her grandchildren, possibly, though we’ll see—andit will both surprise and irritate my stepfather not to be able to complain about spending money on my ridiculous choices orthe general mess I’ve made of my life, I thought I’d get maximum value out of it. You could say it’s not mature to want to annoy my stepfather, and you could be right. I’m owning it.”
“Nah,” Marko said. “I’m pretty mature, and I want to annoy him as well.”
“Besides,” Nyree said, “having the magazine want to cover it is actually partly down to me and not just Marko being so hard and dangerous. Who took the photo of him with the kitten on his head, not to mention the one of him in his togs coming out of the sea like Aquaman? That was me.”
“On the other hand,” Marko said, “I’m the one who hit Kors in the head with a knitting bag in Dunedin, where your stepfather famously doesn’t like me, which resulted in my needing to have my photo taken with a kitten in the first place, so . . .”
“But you didn’t actually have to live through adolescence with Grant Armstrong,” Nyree said, “although you did have to play for him, which is, yes, the conflict that’s added the spice to the mix. People will want to see if either of you takes a swing at the other at the ceremony. Do you think you could manage it? Maybe?”
That was wistful. Coaches didn’t normally share their personal lives overmuch with players, which was a pity, because Zora suspected that Marko and Rhys had something in common in terms of their future in-laws. Rhys wouldn’t actually hit her father, though. Rhys was more . . . subtle.
“Probably not,” Marko said, with the smile at the corner of his mouth that Nyree clearly brought out in him. “Reckon we’ve both earned our fifteen minutes of fame, though.”
“But really,” Nyree told Zora, “it’s just that Marko’s so bloody hot, and women love a hard man showing a teeny glimpse of his softer side. That’s why they want the photos. He could be marrying a sex doll, and nobody would notice. That’s all right. I think he’s hot, too. If you could manage to tellWoman’s Worldhow you teared up when I walked down the aisle, though, Marko . . .” Which made him look faintly horrified, and made Zora laugh.
“I can do the different flowers,” she said. “Let’s make a list.”
“I made one,” Nyree said, and pulled it out of her bag.
It was on sketch paper, folded about four times over, and had a few charcoal smears on it, but it was a list. Of eight people, none of whom were the bride and groom, and, yes, eight different colors. Also, Nyree and Marko didn’t seem to be staying in the premier accommodations in the place, because the Owners’ Cottage was going to be occupied by Marko’s parents and grandmother, according to the list.Thatwas interesting. The groom’s family normally played second fiddle to the bride’s, and the bride normally played second fiddle to nobody.
The whole political aspect to weddings was what made Zora think she’d rather not, personally. Half of her professional life might revolve around weddings, but that didn’t mean she wanted another one. She knew Rhys did. He was more traditional than she was, maybe, which was a surprise. Maybe she was able to take it for granted because she’d grown up with two parents and one address, and he hadn’t. Which meant that she should help him get what made him happy, because that was what love was, right? Right.
She wanted to be married to him. She just wasn’t sure about the wholegettingmarried part, with all the arrangements and undercurrents. They had to havesomefamily there, but it would be the second time both families had got together for this, and the repeat-business aspect was bound to come up.
