Page 42 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
‘Youwere brilliant,’ Imogen said. ‘You’re married.
Congratulations! It was such a lovely ceremony, and you look beautiful. I love your dress.’
‘I didn’t want white, and we thought about the time of year and went with blues. Navy and pale, a little bit wintry.’
‘It’s perfect, like you’ve frosted your wedding. Where does that come from?’
‘How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days?’ Sophie suggested.
‘Their frosting was diamonds,’ Harry said, waiting until Sophie had released Imogen and then pulling her into a hug. ‘I had no idea you were doing a reading.’ His tie was slightly askew, and he looked a lot more relaxed than he had done before Sophie emerged. ‘It was wonderful. Are you an actor?’
‘I’ve dabbled, but I don’t want to talk about that now. I want to talk about your extensive knowledge of romcoms.’
Harry rolled his eyes. ‘We have film nights whenever it’s rainy or we’re knackered. May lives here—’
‘Though she’s insisting on moving out now we’re married,’ Sophie said.
‘So it’s been Sophie and May against me,’ Harry finished. ‘I barely ever get to watch a gruesome war film.’
Sophie slapped his arm. ‘You hate gruesome war films,husband.’
Harry looked at his bride, and they shared a moment of glee-filled incredulity that was too intimate for Imogen to watch. ‘I don’t want to hog you. Congratulations again. Do you need champagne?’
‘May’s getting us some,’ Sophie said. ‘Relax, Imogen. Let your hair down.’
‘I will.’
She left them to it, making a beeline for the buffet, twisting her way through clusters of guests and feeling slightly out of place now the formal part was over. She was about to get a plate when she saw Dexter in the corner of the room. He was leaning on the wall below a large, stormy seascape, his arms folded over his chest as if he was casually observing the scene, but Imogen had never seen his jaw so tense. She abandoned her quest for food and went over to him, tiptoeing in her silk shoes as she got close.
Dexter’s gaze flicked to hers, and he gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Hey. Enjoying the party?’
‘I am,’ she said gently. ‘I saw your cake. It’s beautiful, Dexter.’
‘It came out a lot better than I expected. Hopefully it won’t collapse when they cut into it.’
‘It won’t. Areyouenjoying the party?’
‘Yeah, of course. I just needed …’ he trailed off, and Imogen realized that weddings would be a lot harder for him than they were for her. She scanned the room, saw Lucy with Birdie at the table of mini pastries and profiterole towers. Pudding first, which wasn’t a bad way to go.
‘Do you want to escape for a bit?’ she asked him. ‘Lucy’s being looked after by my gran, and—’
‘Yes,’ Dexter said. ‘I would really like that.’
‘Great.’ She held out her hand, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way her pulse was fluttering in her wrist.
Dexter put his warm hand in hers, and she tugged him away from the wall. They wove through the guests, theirhands linked at their sides, and as their feet met the polished floorboards of the hall, Imogen decided this was a much better way to escape a wedding: when nobody would miss you, when you did itwiththe man of your dreams, instead of running from him. That thought was so shocking and unhelpful that she gulped in a breath that turned into a cough.
‘OK?’ Dexter asked.
‘Fine,’ she spluttered, and he squeezed her hand.
They reached the threshold, the large double doors closed against the cold, and pushed them open. The sun was still out, no clouds in sight, and Imogen was mesmerized by the view. The gently rolling grass, slightly dulled in winter, the trees on either side a mix of evergreen and deciduous, leading her gaze towards the deep, gunmetalgrey of the sea. She knew if she was closer she would see the other colours in the water, the blues, greens and purples, flecks of gold.
‘OK?’ Dexter asked again.
‘What? Yes. Sorry. It’s just so beautiful.’
‘It’s a good spot.’
