Confetti Hearts (Confetti Hitched, #1)(52)

She grins at me. “Isn’t that lovely. I’ve had the best day ever.”

“Well, that’s good,” I say gently. “As it should be.”

“Thank you so much. I couldn’t have had this without you.”

“Of course, you could.”

“Only if I found someone else capable of managing my mother.”

“I think the circus tends to hold on to their lion tamers.”

We look at each other and snort.

“I have to go,” I say gently.

“Oh no, really?”

I nod. “My flight’s booked. I’ve got to drop the hire car off and then get to my hotel.”

She looks beyond me. “What about Lachlan? Aren’t you going with your husband?”

Shit. “Oh no,” I say quickly. “No. He came in his own car, so he’s going to… he’s going to meet me later.”

A lot later as in never. I wonder why she’s eyeing me strangely but before I can say anything her expression changes and she hugs me suddenly. “Oh, this means I won’t see you again,” she says emotionally. “I hate that.”

“Well, we really can’t make the wedding process drag on any longer. It’s unethical.”

She laughs and then hugs me again. “Thank you, Joe. I’ll never forget you. And when I have a party, I’ll contact you.” She looks around furtively. “Maybe you could organise the christening.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” I step back. “I wish you both every happiness. Now get back to your groom.”

Smiling goodbye at her, I open the door and step outside. The door shuts behind me and I reel back.

“What the fuck?”

Snow is falling thickly, and the light coating on the ground has become a not-so-wonderful winter wonderland. The loch is a gunmetal grey and the air is so cold it makes me cough.

I fumble for my inhaler in my pocket and huff a spray before sliding it back. Then I slip and slide over to my hire car which has become some sort of snow sculpture since I left it.

“Shit,” I breathe.

After brushing snow from the window, I open the door, and it makes a wheezy creak. I throw my bag in the back, nearly jettisoning myself into a snow drift as I try to keep my balance. I hold on to the door for a second, catching my breath, and then I lower myself into the driver’s seat. The leather is icy, and I switch the engine on, hoping the heaters work quickly. Lachlan always told me that force of mind won’t grant wishes, and so I think I’m dreaming when I hear him shout my name.

But when I glance up, I find him striding towards me, moving fluidly through the snow, as if born in a wintry setting. If he’d been on Game of Thrones, he’d have been in a black fur cape with a big dog at his side.

As he gets closer, though, I see he’s actually agitated. “What the hell are you doing?” he snaps.

I spread my hand to indicate the car with its engine running. “What does it look like?”

“You’re actually driving in this weather?” He pauses. “Weren’t you going to say goodbye?” he asks, his voice becoming thick.

I repress a wince. “It’s time to go. Everything is clear between us now and we’ve said everything there is to say,” I say calmly.

His eyes flare. “Well, that can’t possibly be true, because how else can I tell you that you’re behaving like a complete twat?”

“What?”

“Joe, this isn’t just a dusting of snow. This is heavy shit.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Stop it,” he snaps. “The road out of here is treacherous even without thick snow.”

“Well, I’m still going.”

I’m actually nervous about the drive, but he’s talking to me like I’m a child, and I won’t have it. I snap my seat belt on and see gratefully that the wipers have cleared the screen of snow. The interior is getting warm, too. So, it was a good thing that I paused to have this ridiculous conversation.

“Nice to see you again, Lachlan.” I smile at him.

“Wait. Stop,” he snaps. “Joe, you can’t drive in this weather.”

“I think this is one of those things we should have learnt about each other,” I say, slamming the door and lowering the window. “You can tell me until you’re blue in the face what to do, and I can ignore every single word that comes out of your mouth. Goodbye.”

“No, wait. Fucking hell,” he shouts.

I’ve taken the handbrake off, and I’m committed to this mission now.

Giving him a debonair wave that by no means displays my abject terror, I set the car moving. Gritting my teeth, I steer past the snowy mounds of parked cars and towards the start of the drive down. I haven’t gone ten metres before the car starts to skid.

“Shit.” I haul at the wheel and try to remember which way to steer into a skid, but the memory is lost. I’d spent far too long flirting with my handsome daddy of a driving instructor than actually listening to his words of driving wisdom.

“Buggering fuck,” I curse through gritted teeth.

The skid gets worse, and I hear Lachlan shout something. A tree rears up, and I twist the steering wheel frantically. The car fishtails, and I have a crazy view of the snow and sky. Then everything comes to a stop with a soft thud, and the air bag detonates, hitting me in the nose.