“Are you okay, Tristan? Your forehead seems sweaty.”
No, I am not fucking okay. I’m far from okay. My nerves are shot to pieces and my heartbeat feels like it’s in my head. I’m surprised Elly can’t hear it through the headset. I won’t tell that to Elly, no one wants to hear that their pilot is fraught with nerves. A Scotch would be good right about now but that’s not the best solution operating a helicopter over central London.
Funny enough, I wasn’t nervous the first time round doing this, which speaks volumes.
I take a deep breath and try to get a grip. I must breathe loudly into the mic because she looks over at me again, this time more warily.
Now, I’m making her nervous.
I have thirty minutes left on the route approved by air traffic control clearance. If Jack, Danny and Charlie aren’t ready, I’ll blow a fuse.
“I think we’ll pass the golf course,” she says innocently. “Danny and Jack might see us!”
I know we will and yes, they will.
We soar 800 metres over the city taking in the capital’s iconic landmarks. The Shard. The Gherkin. The Walkie Talkie. They’re just bricks and glass today, I can’t focus on them.
I glance over at Elly who is scanning the scenery, obvious to what’s going on in my head.
She’s perfect.
My heart tugs like it does every time I look at her. It’s only been months, not years, but when you know, you know.
A few months back, we moved in together into a quaint little mews house in Notting Hill. Turns out I don’t need a four-storey townhouse with a cinema room and two bars when I have my Elly with me every night.
Megan’s paintings hang in the hallway and are the first thing you see when you enter the house. It was a sweetener for taking her flatmate away from her. She only overcharged me three times the going rate this time, so I got off lightly. Jack let her keep the painting in the lobby of his Waterloo apartment block and he only had to pay double. I think she’s got a bit of a crush.
Daniel stays with us three days a week now. We eventually reached a fragile peace treaty with Gemina a few months back and it was Elly I have to thank for that. She went for the strategy of killing her with kindness. Whilst they will never be best buddies, Elly’s consistent checking in on her and inviting her to occasional lunches wore her down. In fact, for the first time in years I invited Gemina over for lunch at mine and all cutlery remained unbroken.
Daniel now has two dads and I’ve nearly come to terms with that. What matters most is his happiness, not mine, Gemina’s or Matias’s.
“We’re coming up to the golf course now,” I say with a lump in my throat. I fumble with the side compartment to find the box. This is it.
“Are they having some type of event at the clubhouse?” She squints down. “I can’t see, I need my glasses.”
For fuck’s sake. I can’t fly any lower.
“Oh!” she cries. “There’s a massive sign on the ground! Like the banners you see flying behind planes.”
Yes, except we are doing it the other way round.
“What does it say?” I ask, using one hand on the controls to hover above the golf course and the other balancing the black box on my thigh.
“Uh…” Her nose wrinkles as she tries to make it out. “Someone is proposing…it says, Will you marry—” She stops short. “Elly,” she whispers into her headset. “Will you marry me, Elly.”
That’s my queue.
“Elly, this is my way of sweeping you off your feet.” I try not to stutter my way through the words. “I love you. More than anyone I’ve ever loved before. I want to start a family with you.” I pause and lift the ring box in my sweaty hand, snapping it open. “Elly Andric, will you marry me?”
Her hands fly to her mouth then she lets out a loud screech that assaults my ears through the headset.
That’s it, that’s all she offers.
Is she going to answer the goddamn question?
Her mouth seems frozen in shock. Shit, is she going to say no?
I might crash the helicopter if she does, I don’t think my poor heart can take it. Perhaps I didn’t think this romantic proposal through.
“Elly?” I hold out the ring, waiting.
It’s nowhere as ostentatious as the one I bought for Gemina. Elly and I don’t need to speak in money to each other. With Elly’s mother from Pašman, the island known as the green gem of Croatia, and my parents from the Emerald Isle, it felt right to get a green gemstone.
I need both hands to start turning soon so she needs to make up her mind. “Are you gonna just keep me hanging?”
Her eyes lock on mine as she chokes back tears. “Yes.”
A single word has never sounded so good.
“Yes, I will marry you. Oh, come on, how can I say no to the irresistible Tristan Kane?”
Roughly one year later
Elly
“Elly, are you alright?” Megan asks, concerned.
I feel Mum’s touch on my arm. ‘Relax, darling. Deep breaths. You’ll get through this.”
You would think they were coaching me to go into labour or surgery. Actually this is one of the happiest days of my life, I’ve been told. Or it will be in hindsight. Right now, I feel faint.
We are standing on the steps of St. Dominic’s Church, a beautiful Gothic-style church in Dubrovnik, Croatia.
I take a few deep breaths. When I’m this nervous it could go one way or the other. An uncontrollable fit of giggles sometimes occurs. I can’t walk down the aisle giggling. Tristan’s mother would never forgive me. The alternative would be a joint wedding and funeral if I don’t stop the heart palpitations.
“I’m fine,” I say to myself more than the bridal party. Megan and my friend Sarah from school are my bridesmaids. Mum is giving me away. All of them look amazing – classy but unstated, just how I wanted it. Megan and Sarah are in sleek royal blue dresses to their knees.
I’m wearing a simple flowing wedding dress. No outrageous gown, no bling, no rhinestones, no massive tent or the opposite – no tight dress that I can’t move freely in. It’s enough for me to walk these thirty-two steps to the top of the aisle without worrying about getting stuck in the aisle.
“You look so beautiful,” Megan gushes and for a second I think she might cry. It might be the Buck’s fizz we had for breakfast to calm the nerves.
I do look beautiful. From my head to my toes, my entire body has been professionally designed. The ostrich has been transformed into a Victoria Secret’s model.
“Head up, bouquet low, belly sucked in, eye contact with the crowd,” I mutter. Holding a bouquet isn’t just grabbing it by the stem. Oh no. Apparently there is a correct angle for positioning your bouquet for optimal photos. “I’ll be okay once I get this bit over.”
“You mean the most important part of the whole day?” Megan sniggers. “The ceremony where you promise to stay with this man for life?
“The bloody walk,” I squeak. “Right now, I’d prefer to walk over hot coals.”
“Just focus on Tristan,” Mum reassures me.
“Ready?” Father Murphy asks me. Father Murphy has flown over to marry us. Tristan’s mother was delighted when she found out I was a Catholic. I think it’s my main selling point.
No.
“As long as you have no secrets from this man, you’ll be fine.” He winks.
What the hell? What does that mean? Since when do priests wink? Is he talking about the copious volumes of premium bamboo rolls I’ve stolen from Madison Legal?
“Ready.” I nod, taking my mum’s arm. We’ve been practising to make sure our pacing matches.
Father Murphy opens the double doors to the chapel and the music starts. The music. The ‘here comes the bride’ music that sounds so surreal you are the bride.
He walks up the aisle like it’s just another day in the office, followed by Megan and Sarah.
Inside, all our friends and family are watching the bridal procession.
Now it’s my turn. My final steps as an unmarried woman. Head up, check. Bouquet low, check. Belly sucked in, check. Keep it together, Elly.
Please God. This is your gaff. Do me a favour and make sure I don’t fall.
I enter the church wearing ivory bridal shoes that do not feel worn in.
There is a 180 degree turn of every head to look at me. I’m at risk of a full blown anxiety attack.
Then I see him.
Tristan.
He’s wearing a traditional black tuxedo and his slightly wavy hair is slicked back.
When our eyes lock it’s the most intense intimate moment of my life.
He takes my breath away. Not only because of how handsome he looks, reminding me that I’m the luckiest woman on earth.
But because of the way he is looking at me.
Like I’m the only thing that matters to him. Like I am his whole world.
There are sixty people watching us, but it’s just us.
I don’t even notice myself gliding up the aisle, I lost count of what step number I’m on now.
Emotion floods his face.
Keep it together, Elly.
Sophie and Carlie snap pictures to my right. They are beside some of my new colleagues from Carson Payne LLP. I finished my trainee contract with Madison Legal and now I’m a fully qualified lawyer. I convinced them to move me to the human rights division for the last leg of my training. Carson Payne LLP are smaller than Madison Legal but specialise in human rights, asylum and international protection immigration issues, which is exactly where I want to be. I thought I would never want to leave Madison Legal. It’s funny how things change. I’ll keep my maiden name professionally. The Kane brand can be a double edged sword when people find out.
The Croatian side of my family are a few seats up. Tristan and I are going to spend our honeymoon travelling around Croatia stopping off at a gut retreat before we head back to London. That’s how I’m so certain about this man. He knows all of me and he loves all of me.
Tristan’s side of the chapel looks like a millionaire’s convention. London’s elite has descended upon Dubrovnik old town, mixed in with his Irish cousins who aren’t wearing enough sun block.
Further up, Charlie is attempting to calm one of the twins down while her mother appeases the other. Danny is the best man on the altar beside Tristan. They found out they were having a baby a few months after Tristan and I got together, then they found out that it was two rather than one. Jack and Daniel are on the altar beside Tristan and Danny.
And before I know it, I’ve reached the altar. Mum lets go of my arm and Tristan takes my hand.
“Hi,” my future husband says softly.
“Hi.” My voice cracks.
“Are you ready to become Mrs. Kane?”
“Táim réidh, Mr Kane,” I say in Irish.
I’m ready.
