“No, no, and absolutely not!” Emma threw her hands up in frustration. “I cant go to this wedding, Sophie! You know James has had this fishing trip planned with Dave for ages. Theyve been prepping for weeksI cant just cancel last minute.”
“But its Olivias wedding!” Sophie set her teacdown a little too hard, sloshing Earl Grey onto the saucer. “Your uni best mate! Shell never forgive you if you bail. Whats more importantfish or friendship?”
“Jamess sacred man-time,” Emma sighed. “He barely gets out without me. Hes been banging on about this all springnew tackle, that ridiculous inflatable tent. I cant let him down.”
“But Olivias fine to let down?” Sophie arched a brow. “She literally moved the date so you could come up from York. Your seats are paid for, and youre both on the invite list!”
Emma tucked a stray curl behind her ear, a nervous habit. The guilt had gnawed at her all week. On one hand: Olivias wedding, her ride-or-die since freshers week. On the other: Jamess lads fishing weekend, planned since January. And of course, both landed on the same bloody weekend.
“Maybe Ill just go solo?” she offered weakly. “Explain the situation. Livll understand.”
“Oh, shell understand alright,” Sophie snorted. “Right before she holds it over you for the next decade. Remember when you forgot her birthday three years ago?”
“That was different!” Emma protested. “This is a proper conflict!”
“Mmm. Fish,” Sophie drawled. “Fine, suit yourself. But dont say I didnt warn you.”
The chat left Emma stewing all the way home. Maybe she should talk to James again? Explain how much the wedding meant? But hed been so chuffed about this trip, counting down the days Itd be selfish to ask him to ditch the lads.
James greeted her in the hallway, taking her coat. He smelled like fresh linen and whatever hed been cookingsomething garlicky.
“Dinners ready,” he announced, grinning. “Your favouriteprawn linguine. How was your day?”
“Alright,” Emma pecked his cheek. “Met Sophie for coffee. She says hi.”
Over dinner, the weekend loomed like an uninvited guest.
“Youre sure youre okay with me going fishing?” James studied her. “If the weddings that important, I can cancel.”
“No, no!” Emma waved a fork. “Youve had this planned forever. I get it.”
“Positive?” He still looked uneasy. “Dave says theres barely any signal where were going. Ill text when I can, though.”
“Its fine,” she assured him. “Have fun, catch a whopper. Ill pop to Livs solocant let her down. Shell understand youre off being Bear Grylls.”
James nodded, but something flickered in his eyesrelief? Emma chalked it up to excitement.
Friday morning was chaos. James triple-checked gear, phoned Dave twice about bait, and nearly forgot his waterproofs.
“Dont forget your rod, Captain Ahab,” Emma teased as he hunted for a torch. “And may the fish be biting.”
“Cheers, love.” He pulled her into a bear hug. “Dont miss me too much. And give Liv my congrats.”
“Will do.” She buried her nose in his jumper, committing his scent to memory. “Though it wont be half as fun without you.”
“Youll have a blast,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Right, Daves downstairs. Im off.”
“Bring back dinner?” she called as he headed out.
“Count on it!” He winked. “Well feast like kings!”
The flat felt eerily quiet after he left. Three whole days apartunheard of, really. Even holidays were joint affairs. But the wedding would distract her.
That night, she rang Olivia, explaining Jamess absence. Thankfully, her friend was gracious.
“Just glad youre coming,” Olivia said. “Wouldnt be the same without you. James is practically a ghost at parties anyway.”
“See you tomorrow,” Emma smiled. “And congrats again. Youll be the most stunning bride!”
Saturday was a blur of salon appointments, gift-wrapping, and outfit panic. She settled on a navy wrap dress, did her makeup just so, and gave herself a final mirror checknot bad at all.
A text from James buzzed in early: “Made it to the lake. Pitch black here, signals rubbish. Love youhave fun today!”
She replied: “Catch loads! Love you more xx”
The wedding was at a posh Mayfair venue. Emma arrived slightly lateLondon traffic being its usual nightmareto find the ceremony over and guests mingling.
“Em!” Olivia, radiant in ivory lace, nearly toppled her with a hug. “You came! I was starting to think youd bailed too!”
“Wild horses, Liv,” Emma squeezed back. “You look unreal! Ethans a lucky man.”
“Ta, darling.” Olivia beamed. “Shame about James, but blokes and their fishing tripswhat can you do?”
“He sends his apologies,” said Emma. “Promised to make it up to you.”
Olivia steered her to their uni friends tableSophie and her husband, Grace and her fiancé, Tom with his new girlfriend. The reunion softened Jamess absence. Toasts flowed, champagne bubbles popped, and the room hummed with laughter.
“Wheres your better half?” Tom leaned in. “Not skipping Livs big day, surely?”
“Fishing with the lads,” Emma said. “Planned for agescouldnt back out.”
“Fishing in March?” Tom frowned. “Bit early, isnt it?”
“Apparently not,” Emma shrugged. “James says springs prime time. Not that Id know a carp from a cod.”
“Right,” Tom smirked. “Well, the fishll be thrilled.” His tone held a weird note, but Emma brushed it off.
The evening crescendoeddinner, first dance, a surprisingly good magician. Emma, pleasantly fizzy from prosecco, was mid-laugh when she noticed a crowd huddled around a phone.
“Livs cousins Instagramming the party!” Sophie tugged her over. “Wave at the poor sods who couldnt make it!”
Emma obliged, smiling at the camera. “Hi, virtual guests! Wish you were hereLivs killing it!”
“Lets show the vibe!” The cousin panned across dancing guests, the cake-cutting then froze. “Hang onis that James?!”
Emma followed her gaze. Near the bar, a man who looked suspiciously like her husband was twirling a brunette. Same broad shoulders, same stupid grin he reserved for bad karaoke.
“Cant be,” Emma forced a laugh. “Hes knee-deep in a lake right now.”
“Nah, thats definitely James!” The cousin zoomed inand there he was, clear as day, clinking glasses with Mystery Woman.
Emmas champagne turned to lead in her stomach. This wasnt happening. James was supposed to be wearing wellies, not a bloody waistcoat.
“James?!” Her voice cracked.
He spun, face draining of colour. One muttered word to the woman, and he bolted for the exit.
Emma followed in a daze, ignoring Sophies calls. The corridor outside was mercifully empty.
“IraI mean, Em,” James caught her arm. “I can explain.”
“Explain what?” Her voice shook. “The imaginary fishing trip? The fact youre here, at Livs wedding, where you couldnt possibly come? And who the hell was that?”
“Its not what you”
“Save it.” She crossed her arms. “Start talking.”
James rubbed his neck. “There was no fishing trip. I lied, but not not how it looks.”
“Enlighten me.”
He took a breath. “I was planning a surprise. Our anniversary next month. I Ive been learning to play guitar. That woman? Shes a vocal coach. Liv and Ethan helped me set it upI was going to sing our first-dance song for you.”
Emma blinked. “You what?”
“I panicked when Liv said you were coming. Thought if I said I was at the wedding without you, youd suspect something. And then you saw me mid-rehearsal”
“Youre telling me,” Emma said slowly, “you invented an elaborate lie to serenade me?”
“Put like that, it sounds daft,” he admitted.
Liv burst in then, eyes wide. “You two! James, weve got soundcheck inoh. Oops.”
“You knew?!” Emma whirled on her.
“Guilty,” Liv winced. “But its sweet, right? Hes been practicing for weeks!”
Emma looked between them. Jamess expression was equal parts sheepish and hopeful.
“I I dont know whether to throttle you or kiss you,” she said finally.
“Option two?” James ventured.
“Not yet.” She folded her arms. “First, I want this legendary performance. Now.”
James paled. “But Im not ready! We only rehearsed once!”
“Tough,” said Liv. “My wedding, my rules. Youre on in five.”
Half an hour later, a tomato-red James stood mic-in-hand beside the vocal coach (now revealed as a jazz singer named Naomi). The opening chords of “Thinking Out Loud” filled the roomtheir actual first-dance song.
He flubbed the second verse. Missed a high note. But when his eyes locked onto Emmas, shining with nerves and devotion, something in her chest squeezed.
The room erupted in applause. Emma walked up, pulled him into a hug, and whispered, “Youre a terrible liar. But that that was perfect.”
“Even after the crap I pulled?” he murmured into her hair.
“Especially because of it.”
Later, in the Uber home, James still looked contrite. “I really thought Id pulled it off,” he admitted.
Emma laughed. “Next time you fake a fishing trip, pick a believable season. Even Tom clocked that.”
“No more secrets,” he promised.
“Secrets, no. Surprises?” She grinned. “Keep em coming. Just maybe run the cover story by me first.”
“Deal.” He kissed her hand. “Though now I actually owe Dave a fishing trip.”
“One condition,” Emma said. “You sing to me by the campfire. No professionals this time.”
James groaned. “Youll regret that. I sound like a stepped-on cat.”
“Dont care.” She leaned into him. “Best anniversary surprise ever. Even if it started with the worst lie ever.”
And as the cab sped through Londons glow, they laughedbecause sometimes, the messiest plans make the best stories.
