Page 34 of Strawberry Moon
Someone is holding my hand while talking. I blink up to see Harry’s face lined with worry. His parents and his grandad are hovering, and a crowd of wedding guests are also watching me avidly.
Harry’s face clears as I look at him. “Hey, you,” he says softly.
“What happened?” I mutter.
“The wedding car hit you.”
“What?” I say much too loudly.
“The car hit you,” he says with a little less certainty.
“Oh my god, that’s what happened to Fiona.”
“Who? Is that one of your family?”
“It certainly feels like that lately,” I say grimly. I struggle up, fending off his hands and examining myself. I have a bit of a headache, and when I prod the side of my head, I feel a lump where the car bumped me.
I smile at Harry. “Apart from a bit of gravel rash in unmentionable places, I feel okay.”
“He’s fine, everyone,” he immediately calls, and the crowd moves back a bit. “It’s just a knock, but I’m taking him to hospital to get checked out anyway.”
“Oh my god,no,” I whisper.
A woman nearby says, “Did he throw himself in front of the wedding car? Has he got deep-seated objections to marriage?”
“Of course he hasn’t,” Holly snaps. “Don’t be ridiculous, Monica.”
I groan. “Only when its J Lo and Ben Affleck. They don’t go together at all.”
Harry strokes my hair back. “Hospital, here we come. But look on the bright side. At least we’ll miss the wedding speeches.”
“This is Mills and Boon karma,” I say through gritted teeth. “Wait until I tell my grandfather.”
I come awaketo two realisations. My neck is stiff, and I’m drooling on myself. Charming. I crack open my eyelids and look round. I’m lying on a bed in a small, curtained cubicle. Outside the curtain is audio chaos—people shouting and someone crying. Footsteps rush by, and there’s an air of controlled focus, but in here it’s fairly peaceful.
I take a careful stock of myself. My face is a bit sore, and my body feels like I was at an all-night rave, but apart from that, I seem remarkably whole. I wriggle my toes just to double-check and relax when they appear to be working.
Harry is sitting by the bed, his dark head bent over a book on his lap. He’s still wearing his wedding suit but has got rid of the jacket and waistcoat and is in the grey trousers with his white shirt unbuttoned to show a trace of his hairy chest.
I watch him for a few seconds. I need to tell him about the plot now. I can’t bear that I seem to have somehow landed him, despite my personality defects, and now I might lose him because of that stupid, fucking Mills and Boon book.
He looks very handsome and real, and I surreptitiously wipe the drool just in case he hasn’t already noticed it, but the movement attracts his attention, and he looks up.
A smile crosses his face immediately. “Hey, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”
“Oh fine,” I say hoarsely. He quickly helps me sit and take a sip of water from a water bottle. “I’m so sorry I spoilt your cousin’s wedding. You never made the reception.”
“Don’teversay sorry for that. I got to sit in peace without talking to my great aunt Andrea. She never remembers my name and makes up for that by squeezing my face in a grip like a sumo wrestler’s.”
“Well, I do like to be of service.”
“You should have that on your CV. The family send their best wishes and say they’ll see us at home. My dad nipped back to get you a change of clothes and my mum brought food from the reception while you were asleep. It’s in the bag over there. The length of time we’re going to be here, I can see us eating it for breakfast.” I groan and he brushes my hair back gently. “The doctor says you’ll be fine. There’s no concussion. Just some bruises as a memento of the wedding.”
“How did I come to be asleep?” I stare at him as he strokes my cheek, his long fingers soft on my face. “I barely remember.”
“Oh, you passed out after the X-ray. They gave you some painkillers which they said might make you sleepy. We’re just waiting for the doctor to discharge you.”
He sets the bottle on the nearby table, and helps me settle back, plumping the pillows so I can sit up a bit. Then he lingers, taking my hand and looking down at it. My skin looks pale against his tanned hand.
