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‘No, I guess not, unless you know how he earned it.’

‘Do I want to know?’

‘I’m not sure how to put this delicately,’ he says. ‘Teenage boys have one or two hormonal issues.’

‘We all had those,’ I tell him, thankfully managing not to add, And when I think about you, it seems I still do.

‘Yes, well, these hormonal issues lead to certain… antisocial habits.’

It takes me a moment to twig what he’s driving at. ‘Again, not limited to boys,’ I reassure him when I’ve figured it out.

‘So, imagine the scene. There’s Bronco, late at night, indulging himself. Only he’s on the bottom bunk of a bunk bed. It’s basic physics. A small movement on the bottom bunk translates to a considerably larger movement on the top.’

‘Oh, God,’ I laugh. ‘I’m guessing the guy on the top bunk noticed?’

‘He didn’t just notice,’ Nathan tells me, joining in with my laughter. ‘The way he told it, he was hanging on for dear life. So, after that, poor Stuart was always known as Bronco – as in Bucking Bronco. I wonder if he’ll be at the wedding too? Anyway, compared to that, Sharky was quite an easy gig.’

‘Did James have a nickname?’

‘No. Not quite sure how he got away with that. He was a bit of an all-rounder, so maybe we didn’t notice any obvious weak spots?’ he says, then stops and looks at me, and I feel a little flutter in my stomach that is more than pre-wedding nerves. ‘You look incredible,’ Nathan says, and his eyes travel appreciatively over my body. Normally, this would give me the ick, but there’s something hot about the way Nathan is doing it, like he’s mentally unwrapping a gift. Or maybe that’s the way I’m looking at him – who knows?

‘You scrub up pretty well yourself,’ I remark with a smile, tugging playfully on the lapel of his morning coat.

Whether he takes this as some kind of cue, or whether the universe has just had enough of the two of us pussy-footing around, I have no idea but, the next moment, our lips are locked together as we pull each other close. It’s nothing inappropriate – we’re in a busy beer garden, after all – but it’s so, so erotic. Every nerve ending in my body is on fire, wanting to make the most of this moment, to let no sensation go unnoticed.

Just as I’m starting to worry that we might, after all, be making a bit of a spectacle of ourselves, he breaks it off gently.

‘You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,’ he breathes, and I notice his eyes are glassy with desire.

‘That?’ I ask, sounding mock-offended. ‘Is that all you wanted to do?’

‘No. There’s a lot more, but it’s not suitable for an audience.’ He smiles, and it’s all I can do to prevent myself from launching myself at him.

‘Would it be presumptuous of me to ask if you have a room booked for tonight? One that we could perhaps retire to later to, you know, continue this conversation in private?’

His face falls. ‘I never thought. Mum and Dad only live about half an hour from here, so it never occurred to me to book a room.’

‘Hmm. Well, it’s lucky for you that I have then, isn’t it?’

31

It’s been so nice talking to Nathan, I almost forget I have bridesmaid duties to perform. I feel the most relaxed I have in weeks. However, I can feel my nervous tension building as I head back to the venue, and by the time all the bridesmaids and the bride are assembled in the ante-room, I’m positively jittery.

At last, the doors open and we make our way inside. The room is beautifully decorated, with flowers everywhere and ribbons on the backs of the chairs, but I don’t notice any of that. Eventually, I spot the telltale dark hair on the groom’s side and my stomach feels like it’s full of butterflies as Nathan turns to watch the procession, his face breaking out in a smile as he spots me. Although this is Trudi and James’s wedding, it feels like it’s our moment, somehow. I’m aware that I’m beaming back at him, but I don’t care.

The ceremony broadly washes over me; all I can think about is that Nathan is here, in this room, and that means that everything is going to be all right, somehow. I just know that he gets me, and not only because of the Tim stuff. When I’m talking to him, or I’m around him, he makes me feel completely at ease in a way that no other man has ever done. The fact that I’m obviously physically attracted to him also helps.

I perform my duties as if on autopilot, willing things to move along so I can actually go and speak to him again, confirm he’s real. After what seems like an age, but is probably no more than half an hour, we file out but, before I have a chance to hang back and say hi, we’re whisked off into the gardens by the photographer. At least this one is well organised, with a list of the required shots to work from, so they don’t take forever, but I’m still a picture of frustration by the time I’m finally released.

As I join the main party, I grab a glass of champagne and start looking for Nathan, eventually finding him chatting with another man.

‘Athena,’ he says warmly as I approach. ‘This is Stuart, an old school friend of James’s and mine.’

‘Delighted to meet you, I’m sure.’ Stuart is one of those people who is instantly identifiable as ex-public school. His floppy blond hair hangs over his pale-blue eyes, and his pink cheeks look like they’re yet to be troubled by a razor. I’m sure he’s perfectly charming, but right now, I’d like nothing more than for him to fuck off and leave me alone with the man I’ve been waiting for so long to see. Thankfully, it seems that he’s got the message as, after a couple of platitudes, he makes his excuses and wanders off.

But before I can speak to Nathan properly, we’re interrupted by the toastmaster calling us in to the wedding breakfast. Frustratingly, Nathan is seated facing away from me, so I won’t even be able to make eye contact with him during the meal.

‘You must be Athena,’ James’s father says as he takes his seat next to mine. ‘Interesting name.’