The Bridesmaid's Baby

‘Smile,’ Will murmured as he pulled her closer. ‘This is a wedding, not a funeral.’

He took the lead and Lucy obediently pinned on a smile.

She’d only danced with Will a handful of times, long ago. Even so, she could remember every single detail—his habit of enfolding her fingers inside his, the way he smelled of midnight, and the way her head was exactly level with his jaw.

Tonight, every familiar memory felt like a pulled thread, unravelling her poorly stitched self control. Being this close to Will played havoc with her heartbeats, with her sense of rhythm. She kept stumbling and bumping into him and then apologising profusely.

After the third apology, he steered her to the edge of the floor and he leaned back a little, and he smiled as he looked into her face.

Will said something, but Lucy couldn’t hear him above the music and she shook her head, lifted her shoulders to show she had no idea.

Leaning closer, she felt her skin vibrate as he spoke into her ear. ‘Are you OK? Would you like a break?’

That would be sensible, wouldn’t it?

She nodded. ‘Yes, please.’

A reprieve.

Maybe not. Will stayed close beside her as she returned to the table and, before she could resume her seat, he said, ‘There are chairs outside. Why don’t we go out there where it’s cooler and quieter, away from the music?’

Lucy’s heart stumbled again. Going outside where it was quieter suggested that Will wanted to talk.

Part of her yearned to talk with him, but she wasn’t sure it was wise. What could they talk about now? They’d covered the basics last night after the rehearsal, and Will had been away for so long that they’d lost their old sense of camaraderie.

Besides, further conversation would surely lead to uncomfortable topics like her relationship with Josh. Wouldn’t it be wiser to simply keep their distance now?

But the look in Will’s eyes as he watched her sent a fine shiver rushing over her skin and she knew that wisdom would lose this particular battle and curiosity would win. She secretly longed to hear what Will wanted to talk about.

‘I’m sure a little fresh air is a good idea,’ she said and she went with him through a doorway in the side of the marquee into the moon silvered night.

They found two chairs abandoned by smokers and, as soon as Lucy sat down, she slipped off her shoes and rubbed at her aching feet.

Will chuckled softly.

‘I’m not used to wearing such high heels,’ she said defensively. ‘You should try them. They’re sheer torture.’

‘I don’t doubt that for a moment, but they look sensational.’ He released a button on his jacket, letting it fall open. His shirt gleamed whitely in the moonlight and he stretched his long legs in front of him.

After a small pause, he said, ‘I meant what I said in my speech. You look lovely tonight, Lucy.’

Her cheeks grew warm again. ‘Thanks. Mattie chose our dresses. She has very feminine tastes.’

He let her self-effacing comment pass.

‘It’s been a perfect wedding,’ she said to make amends, but then she was ambushed by an involuntary yawn. ‘But it seems to have worn me out.’

‘You’ve probably been working too hard.’

She shook her head. ‘My work doesn’t very often make me tired. Weddings, on the other hand…’

‘Can be very draining.’

‘Yes.’

He was watching her with a lopsided smile. ‘It’s not always easy to watch your friends tie the knot.’

‘I…’ Her mouth was suddenly dry and her tongue stuck to its roof. She shot Will a sharp glance, uncertain where this conversation was heading. She tried again. ‘I’m really happy for Mattie, aren’t you?’

‘Absolutely,’ he said. ‘Marriage couldn’t have happened to a nicer girl.’

Lucy nodded. A small silence limped by. ‘I suppose weddings are tiring because they involve lots of people.’ Hunting for a way to disguise the fact that Will’s presence at this wedding was her major problem, she made a sweeping gesture towards the crowded marquee. ‘I’m more used to animals these days. They’re so much quieter than humans.’

‘And I’m used to rocks.’

Lucy laughed. ‘I dare say they’re quieter too.’

‘Silence is one of their better attributes.’ Will chuckled again. ‘Sounds like we’ve turned into a pair of old loners.’

‘Maybe,’ she said softly, but she knew it was hazardous for her to talk of such things with this man.

Quietly, he said, ‘It’s happening all around us, Goose.’

Goose…her old nickname.

Only her father and Will had ever called her Goose, or Lucy Goose…and hearing the name now made her dangerously nostalgic.