Confetti Hearts (Confetti Hitched, #1)(39)

“Yes. They get married this afternoon. I’ll have a morning checking everything and making sure the party is alright. Then after the meal, I’m taking the car and dropping it at the airport. One night in a hotel there, and I’m off to sunnier places.”

“Sounds nice.” It’s patently obvious she doesn’t mean it. She looks at my hire car. “Just be careful on those roads, Joe. You’ve only been here in summer before, and winter driving can be bad. The snow has been light so far, but the hotel’s up a lane that’s notorious for its drifts. If a storm comes, you might struggle to get out.”

“Nothing, and I repeat nothing, will keep me at that hotel beyond my duty. They booked an ABBA tribute band. There isn’t anything in heaven or on earth that would make me stay for that.”

She pats my arm. “Well, it’s been lovely. Have you got anything coming up where we might see you again?”

I nod. “A party in the summer. You’ll recognise me when you see me. I won’t have the wild-eyed look of someone who’s been snowed in over the whole winter.”

“Get away with you.”

I smile at her and walk towards the car, slipping a little on the thin coating of snow that’s covering the pavement. I wave in acknowledgement, and when I turn back, she’s gone, leaving me alone in the small car park looking out over the loch. The water is a grim grey colour, and it laps against the stones on the shore. A wind gusts, ruffling the water and blowing my hair back.

I shudder and hasten to the car. After slinging my bag into the back, I climb in and start the engine. As I wait for the windscreen heaters to work, I blow on my hands and observe the loch. There’s a majesty to the scene—the vast expanse of water reflecting the sky and framed by the green and dun colours of the mountains.

Lachlan would like it here. Plenty of fishing and walks.

“Fuck.” I have to stop thinking of him as if we’re still together. I don’t know why I do. I’ve had much longer relationships, but somehow none of those men ever made the impact that Lachlan did.

My phone lights up with a call, and I see Lachlan’s contact picture on the screen. “Not today, Satan,” I say and click to ignore the call. Another one comes fast on its heels but before I can click away, I realise it’s my solicitor.

“Colin, hello,” I say.

“Joe. Hope you had a good Christmas.” He pauses as if realising the anomaly of wishing festive greetings to someone who’s getting divorced, but after a moment he carries on heartily. “Just touching base before the weekend. Doing anything nice?”

“I’m in Scotland finishing up at a wedding and then I’m off to Thailand for the week. I’ll check my emails while I’m away if you want to send me anything.”

“God, that sounds lovely. I wish that was me. I have my eldest’s birthday party at Laser Quest to look forward to.”

It sounds hideous. “I’m sure you’ll have fun with that,” I say politely.

“Yes, well. I sent the fifth set of papers to Lachlan last week and we just received his reply.

“Oh dear,” I say, wincing. “What’s he done this time?”

“He signed them.”

“What?”

My loud retort seems to echo all the way to London.

When he speaks next his voice is cautious. “He signed them. I just received them from his solicitor.” There’s a protracted silence as I stare blindly at the loch and try to think what to say. “Joe. You there?”

“He actually signed them? He agreed to the divorce?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

I shake my head to jumpstart my shocked brain.

“Joe?”

I run my hand briskly over my eyes and clear my throat. “Sorry. The line is bad here,” I say hoarsely. “Well, that’s fantastic news.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“Because if you wanted to pause the divorce proceedings and seek counselling, my impression is Lachlan would jump on that like a dog on a nice bit of steak.”

“What a scrumptious analogy.” He chuckles. “No, it’s fine. It’s absolutely fine. In fact, it’s great. I’m going to be divorced. Yippee.”

His silence is telling, but he’s a very polite man, so he goes along with my false cheer, and we exchange a few more words before he rings off.

I stare ahead unseeingly. I initiated the divorce. I got angry—repeatedly—when he wouldn’t sign the papers.

So why am I not doing so well now that Lachlan has agreed to it? Subconsciously, I must’ve thought he’d keep fighting it and…

And then what did I think would happen?

I groan. Was I imagining him making yet another attempt to get me back and that, at last, it would be successful? I shake my head. Surely not. How stupid would I be?

I make myself remember Elliott and that kiss, and then put the car in gear and set off to do my job.

The drive is beautiful, and my bruised heart finds solace in the stark grandeur of the scenery. The road runs alongside the loch and I sneak a glance at an eagle hovering in place, lonely against the gloomy sky and riding on the cold wind.

I see the turn for the hotel and click my indicator. Despite slowing down, I only just make the corner. Swearing, I grip the steering wheel tighter as the wheels slip on the icy surface. For a brief second, I have visions of ending up in the loch and Frances’s wrath when I appear as a soggy, ghostly presence at the wedding. But the car straightens, and I blow out a shaky breath, releasing my death grip on the steering wheel.