Page 101

“A little further in. Carefully. There.”

Ryan slides the box holding Lizzie’s bouquet into place, then looks over his shoulder at me. “That all right?”

I peer into the back of the van. Lizzie’s bouquet sits snugly, its flowers clear of the neighbouring boxes. I give the rest a quick look over: centrepieces secure, buckets wedged in, arch frame strapped against the side. Nothing that’s going to tip over on the first bend.

“Perfect. Thank you.”

Over the last hour and a half, Ryan has stripped leaves and thorns from the arch stems, sorted them into buckets, and held Lizzie’s bouquet steady while I finished binding it. At one point, I looked up to find the Axe King standing very patiently with an armful of flowers, waiting for his next instruction. I almost stopped panicking long enough to appreciate the sight.

Almost.

But you know what? I think we’re actually going to leave on time. We’re pretty much good to go. And lesson learnt: next time, I’ll have a backup lined up in case my help drops out. Maybe even a backup for the backup.

“Morning, Briony,” a familiar voice chirps. “How’s it all⁠—”

Emmy comes around the van, spots Ryan, and stops mid-sentence. She glances through the shop window, then back at me. “Where’s the freelance florist? And what’s Ryan doing here?”

“It’s a long story.” I give her the short version while Ryan, entirely unprompted, goes into the shop and starts sweeping up the leaves and stem ends we’ve left on the floor.

“She cancelled last night?” Emmy says. “That’s taking the piss. I’m furious at her—and at you too. You should have called me!”

“Ryan’s already told me that. Anyway, somehow it’s actually all come together, thanks to Ryan—and to a late night last night.”

“Oh God. When did you get to sleep?”

“Half one. Got up again at four.”

“Jesus Christ,” Emmy says.

Ryan stops sweeping. “You only got two and a half hours’ sleep? Fucking hell, flower girl.”

“Yes, well, nothing I can do about that now. Anyway, Emmy, we’re sticking to the plan. You and Penny stay here and look after the shop, and Ryan and I will go to the venue. And we’d really best get going. I’ll speak to you later, okay? Ryan, let’s go!”

I fish the van keys out of my pocket and make for the driver’s door.

“Not so fast,” Ryan says, stepping outside. “I’m driving.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m no having you drive a van to Loch Lomond on two and a half hours’ sleep. You’re going in the passenger seat.”

“Ryan, honestly⁠—”

“That would be great,” Emmy says, accepting his offer on my behalf. “Have a doze on the way, Briony. You’ll need your energy when you get there.”

I look down at the keys. I am very tired.

“Fine.”

Ryan holds out his hand, and I toss him the keys.

“Get yourself some water and a snack to eat in the car,” he instructs. “I’m gonnae nip up and change because I’m no showing up at a wedding in running shorts. I’ll be two minutes, nae more. I promise I’ll get you to the venue on time.”

And with that, he disappears into the building. I hurry back into the shop to grab a bottle of water and a cereal bar, then I settle myself into the passenger seat. Moments later, Ryan emerges in jeans and a plain black T-shirt. He gets in and starts the engine.

“All right, let’s go.”

“Hold it steady a second?”