Nick
I’d been dreading this day, and now it was here.
The wedding.
Their wedding.
The day my one true love made the biggest mistake of her life by marrying my best friend.
Best friend.
Yeah, Martin was, despite being a womaniser, and a player, but what could I do? We’d gone through school and college together, had more beer-fuelled weeks away than I could count and played five-a-side every Tuesday and Thursday. He’d had my back when it went wrong with Shelly, he’d been there when my Mom battled cancer.
And now I was his best man.
“You okay?” I asked him as he paced beside the pulpit. His hair was super short, his usually tanned cheeks pale and he was fiddling with his cufflinks.
“Course.” He huffed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Only this is supposed to be the best day of your life, Martin, and you’re acting like it’s the worst.”
“I’m just…” He paused and set his attention on the growing congregation. “Nervous.”
I didn’t know what the hell he had to be nervous about. He was about to marry the most gorgeous creature to have ever walked the earth. Not only that he was going to have her in his life and his bed until death parted them. I’d be happy with a single day and night with Sicilia. I was sure the memories of being with her, having her to myself, would last a lifetime.
I wrapped my fingers around the box in my pocket. It held the rings, including the one she’d wear on her delicate finger for all of time. I swallowed, the taste of regret, disappointment and loss was bitter on my tongue.
If only the coin had landed heads up. Would I be the groom today? Martin the best man? If I was in his position, there’s no way I’d be pacing as if I was about to go to the hangman’s noose.
Resting my hand on his shoulder, I studied him. “Martin, mate, why don’t you have a swig out of your flask?”
“I’ve done that.” He glanced at the church door. It was wide open, the sunny day allowing stark white light to spread onto the aisle.
“Have some more.”
“No.” He swallowed, as though he might vomit. “I can’t.”
“A sip won’t hurt.”
“No, not that.” He shook his head. “I can’t do it.”
“Do what?”
“Marry her.”
“What.” I spun him from the crowd. “What are you saying?”
“I just don’t…love her enough.”
“You did when you asked her to be your bride.” A kernel of hope popped inside me, but at the same time a tsunami of fury washed over my heart—she’d be so hurt by this.
He always hurt her.
So of course he’d jilt her at the alter.
“Nick,” he said. “Will you sort it for me?”
“Sort what? What the fuck are you talking about, Martin?”
“Everything. Sort everything. Tell them.” He jerked his head at the crowd. “Tell them the wedding is off. And then go and find Sicilia, tell her too.”
My jaw hung down, then, “You tell her yourself.”
He shook his head and backed away from me. “No. I can’t.”
My mind span as he ran up the aisle, his smart new shoes silent on the long red carpet and the tails of his morning coat flapping behind him.
People turned to watch his exit, surprised, concern and amusement on their faces.
And then he was gone.
Just like that, the groom had left the wedding and left me to pick up the pieces.
Quickly I told the two ushers what was going on, then with emotions pinging around inside of me, I walked out of the church.
A huge cream roller was parked on the road, white ribbons fluttering from the flying lady.
Sicilia sat in the back, her veil covering her face, but not so much that I couldn’t see that she knew something was wrong.
I opened the door. “We need to talk.”
“What’s going on?” Her father asked.
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek.
“Nick?” she asked, flicking back her veil.
“Come with me.” I held out my hand.
Relief washed through me when she took it. This was a conversation we needed to have in private.
For a moment the disastrous situation receded and all I could concentrate on was her. She was more beautiful than any goddess. In a figure hugging white dress that flared at the base, her creamy skin sparkled delicately and her hair was piled high and dotted with tiny white flowers.
“My God you’re stunning,” I said, my mouth drying. “I mean really beautiful.”
“Thanks.” She frowned. “What’s going on?”
“This way.” I held out the crook of my arm and led her around the side of the church. Earlier I’d spotted a bench tucked into a nook in the church wall.
“This will wreck my shoes.”
I didn’t speak.
“Nick.” She tugged me, forcing me to stop. “Just tell me.”
I braced for the pain my words would cause. Through no fault of my own I was going to hurt this wonderful woman. “He’s gone.”
“What? Who’s gone?”
“Martin.”
Her mouth fell open.
“He’s left.”
“Left, but we haven’t had the ceremony yet and…” He eyes misted.
I frowned.
“There must be a mistake.” She looked around the churchyard. “What happened? Did something happen?”
“I guess it did.” I cupped her pretty face and forced her to look up at me.
“I don’t, I can’t…understand.”
“He changed his mind, Sicilia.”
“But it’s all planned. It was his damn idea to get married.”
Her emotions were rollercoastering from shock to disbelief then to anger.
“I’m sorry.”
“Where the hell is he?”
“I don’t know.
“You don’t know?”
“Sicilia. I wish there was an easy way to—”
“To let someone know they’ve been jilted at the alter. I guess there isn’t.” She sighed and looked at the ground.
I released her face but reached for her hands, took both of them and squeezed. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes.” She looked up at me, a spark of passion and determination in her eyes.
“What? Anything. I’ll do anything for you.” And I meant it, I really would. Burning coals, jump from a great height…anything.
“I’ve paid for a perfectly good honeymoon to Ibiza and I have no intention of going alone.”
“I don’t understand.” Or at least I didn’t dare to think what she might mean.
“Come with me, Nick.”
“To Ibiza? On your honeymoon…I can’t.”
“There’s no such word as can’t and I know you took the week off after the wedding, you said you’d take that long to recover from it.”
“Sicilia.” Hope was coiling up inside me, threatening to spring loose and become full-blown excitement.
“Sod Martin, sod that lot in there, let’s go.” She turned but kept hold of one of my hands. “Let’s just get ourselves to the airport and go.”
I allowed her to drag me along. Martin’s face hung in my mind’s eye, I pushed it away.
I’d said right from the beginning he didn’t deserve her.
Sicilia
Within forty-eight hours of being jilted I’d decided two things. One I loved Ibiza, and two I’d had a lucky escape not marrying Martin.
I’d sat on the beach mentally going through all the shit he’d thrown my way over the last few years. All the times I’d fallen for his excuses because they’d come from a handsome face. I’d never thought I’d be the type of woman to put up with such crap yet I did. For so long. And it went so far.
But now it was history and it was as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
Sipping on a pina colada, I watched Nick emerge from the sea. With his dark stubble, broad tanned chest and swim shorts clinging to an interesting bulge in his swimshorts, I knew I’d made the right choice asking him to accompany me.
It had been spur of the moment, impulsive, yes, but also a long time coming, us being together that was.
Plus he was perfect company. He knew when to speak and when not to, knowing I was working through my thoughts. He’d remembered to put sun cream on my back when I’d forgotten, bought me a little gold anklet with anchors on it from a beach seller and booked us a trip out dolphin spotting later in the week because he knew that was on my bucket list.
“How’s the cocktail?” he asked, flopping on the lounger next to me. His skin sparkling with sea water.
“Delicious.”
“Good.” He eyes glistened, but I only saw them for a second because then he dropped his shades into place.
I straightened out my small golden weaved bikini, thankful that even if my wedding dress hadn’t come to any use, my carefully packed honeymoon wardrobe was being well worn.
“You see those idiots on the banana boat,” Nick said with a chuckle.
“I think they’re mad.”
We watched in silence as the bright yellow inflatable sped past, the occupants bobbing up and down and squealing.
When they’d gone I turned to Nick. “Thanks for coming with me, to Ibiza.”
“Thanks for inviting me.”
I cleared my throat. My next words had been brewing all afternoon. But was it too soon?
No, we’ve been waiting for years.
I sucked on my cocktail, the last bit slurping up the straw.
He smiled my way. “Want another?”
“No thanks, I think I’ll go and lie down in the room for a while.”
“Okay, have a good rest, I’ll make sure no one takes your lounger.
I sat on the edge of the sunbed and lifted my shades. “Nick.”
“Mmm?”
“Come with me.”
His mouth opened and closed then he bit on his bottom lip.
“Come upstairs with me, please.”
“I don’t know if I should.”
“What do you mean?”
He sat too, so our knees were almost touching. “I adore being here with you and…”
“And what?”
“And I don’t want to ruin it.”
“Why would you ruin it?”
“You’re…” He shifted on the seat. “So damn gorgeous and for so long I’ve…”
“Say it.” God, I wanted him to say it. Did he feel the same as me?
“I’ve had feelings for you, Sicilia.”
My broken heart rallied, it seemed to fix right up, there and then with those few words from the mouth of a man who’d always been there for me. “You’ve had feelings for me for a long time?”
He lifted his shades, his eyes narrowed in the sunshine. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, but that’s bad isn’t it.”
“Why?” Bad, how could it be bad?
“Because of Martin. I’m supposed to be his best mate.”
“Shh.” I leaned forward, so my lips hovered over his. “Don’t say his name, he’s not here, you are.”
“I don’t want to say his name, or think about him.”
“Me neither.” I kissed him, a soft press of lips.
He moaned, as if it had been the most passion, lust-crazed kiss ever.
“So come upstairs,” I said, my need for him growing by the second. “And if you love me, make love to me.”
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