**Diary Entry April 15th**
No, no, and absolutely no! I threw my hands up in frustration. I cant go to this wedding, Emily! You know James has had this fishing trip planned with Greg for *months*. Theyve been prepping gear, buying new tackleI cant just cancel last minute.
«But its *Sophies* wedding!» Emily set her teacake down with a clink. «Your best friend from uni! Shell never forgive you if you dont show. Whats more importantsome blokes sitting by a lake or your oldest mates big day?»
«Its sacred to James,» I sighed. «He barely gets time for himself these days. Hes been giddy about this since Januarynew waders, that fancy tent. I cant let him down.»
«And Sophie can just cope, then?» Emily arched a brow. «She *specifically* picked this weekend so you could come up from Bristol. Your seats are paid for, love. Youre *both* on the guest list.»
I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, chewing my lip. This had been gnawing at me for days. On one handSophies wedding, my uni best mate. On the otherJamess precious lads weekend. Bloody typical it all collided.
«Maybe Ill just go alone?» I offered weakly. «Explain it to her. Shell understand.»
«Oh, shell *understand* all right,» Emily snorted. «And sulk about it for the next decade. Remember how she froze you out for *three months* when you forgot her birthday?»
«That was different!» I protested. «I *genuinely* forgot. This is a proper commitment.»
«Right. Fishing.» She rolled her eyes. «Fine, your call. But dont say I didnt warn you.»
The chat left me unsettled. On the Tube home, I gnawed over it. Maybe I could talk to James again? Explain how much this meant? But hed been *so* chuffed about the trip, counting down the days… It felt selfish to ask him to bail.
James met me at the door, taking my coat. The flat smelled of garlic and rosemaryhis signature roast in the oven.
«Dinners sorted,» he grinned, kissing my temple. «How was your day?»
«Alright. Saw Emshe says hi.»
Over supper, the weekend loomed.
«Youre *sure* youre fine with me going?» James studied me. «If the weddings that important, Ill stay.»
«No, no,» I said too quickly. «Go, honestly. You lads planned this ages ago. I get it.»
«Positive?» He frowned. «Greg says signals spotty up there. Might not get through, but Ill text when I can.»
«Its *fine*,» I insisted. «Have your fun. Ill pop to Sophies solocant let her down. Shell understand youre fishing.»
He nodded, but something flickered in his eyesrelief? I chalked it up to excitement.
Friday morning was chaos. James triple-checked his gear, ringing Greg every five minutes («Did you pack the *good* bait?»).
«Dont forget the rods, Captain Ahab,» I teased as he hunted for his torch.
«Cheers, love.» He hugged me tight. «Be good. Send Sophie my congrats.»
«Course.» I buried my nose in his jumper, breathing in that familiar cedar-and-coffee scent. «Wont be the same without you.»
«Youll have a blast.» He kissed my forehead. «Right, Gregs downstairs. Love you.»
«Bring back a whopper, yeah?»
«Pint and a story for every fish!» he winked, vanishing out the door.
The flat felt too quiet. Three days without himwe *never* did separate trips. But the weddingd keep me busy.
That evening, I rang Sophie. To my relief, she was lovely about it.
«Just *you* being theres what matters,» she said. «James is practically a ghost at parties anyway. See you tomorrow!»
Saturday flew bymanicure, wrapping the gift (a posh cheese board from Fortnums), slipping into my emerald wrap dress. I checked the mirrorhair swept up, just the right dab of rouge. Not bad.
A text blinked from James at dawn: *Camps set up. Signals dodgy. Love youhave a fab day!*
I replied: *Catch a monster! Love you more.*
The wedding was at a swanky Mayfair hotel. Thanks to Tube delays, I missed the ceremony, arriving as guests found their seats.
«*Lizzie!*» Sophieradiant in ivory lacebarrelled into me. «You came! I was *this* close to disowning you!»
«Wild horses couldnt keep me away,» I laughed, squeezing her. «Youre *stunning*. Toms a lucky man.»
«Thanks, darling.» She beamed. «Shame James couldnt make it, but blokes and their fishingwhat can you do?»
«He sends his best.» I handed over the gift. «Promises to make it up to you.»
She steered me to our tableEmily and her bloke, uni mates Charlotte and Ollie, even Jake with his new girlfriend. Catching up softened Jamess absence. Champagne flowed, toasts piled upwarm, laughter-soaked.
«Wheres your other half?» Ollie nudged me. «Cant believe hes missing this.»
«Fishing trip with Greg,» I said. «Planned for ages.»
«*April?*» He blinked. «Bit early for trout, isnt it?»
«Apparently not,» I shrugged. «James swears its prime time. Not that Id know.»
«Right.» Ollie smirked. «Well. Fishermen know best.»
The evening rolled ondinner, first dance, a raucous ceilidh band. Id just relaxed into my third Prosecco when a crowd gathered around someones phone.
«Livs streaming for Insta!» Emily beckoned me. «Come wave at the peasants who couldnt come!»
I leaned in as Liv panned the camera.
«Say hi, Liz!»
«Hi, all!» I waved. «Wish you were here!»
Liv swung the phone toward the dance floor. «Check out the vibe! Oiis that *James*?»
My stomach dropped. Across the room, near the bar, a bloke in a crisp blue shirt swayed*his* build, *his* laugh. Even in the dim light, I knew.
«Thats *not* James,» I said thinly. «Hes in *Scotland*.»
«No, thats *definitely* him!» Liv zoomed in. The screen showed *my husband*, chatting up some brunette.
The room tilted. My pulse roared in my ears. This wasnt happening.
«*James!*» My voice cracked.
He spun, face draining of colour. One panicked glancethen he bolted for the exit.
I chased him into the hall, deaf to Emilys shouts. He whirled to face me, hands up.
«LizI can explain.»
«Explain *what*?» My nails bit my palms. «The *fishing trip*? Or why youre *here* with some *woman*?»
«Its not like that!» He ran a hand through his hair. «Justcome outside?»
«*No.* Talk. *Now.*»
He exhaled. «There *is* no fishing trip. I lied, but not for… *that*. I was planning a surprise. For our anniversary.»
«A *surprise*.» I deadpanned. «At *Sophies wedding*?»
«Yes! Sophie and Tom helped. That woman? Shes a vocal coach. Ive been learning *our song*to sing for you next month. Tonight was a dry run.»
I gaped. «You concocted this whole *lie*… to *rehearse*?»
«Would youve believed Im going to Sophies without you?» He winced. «I *wanted* it perfect. Then Sophie said you were coming solo, and I panicked…»
«*Christ*, James.» I pressed my hands to my face. «Youre *rubbish* at surprises.»
Sophie burst in then, eyes wide. «You *found* him! James, were on in ten!»
«You *knew*?» I whirled on her.
«Guilty!» She grinned. «Hes been *adorable* about itpractising daily. Youre *not* mad, are you?»
I looked between them. Jamess faceequal parts hope and terrorundid me.
«Im… flabbergasted,» I admitted. «And possibly still cross. But… show me this *legendary* performance, then.»
Half an hour later, a scarlet-faced James crooned *Cant Help Falling in Love* (our first dance) with the «mystery woman» harmonising. He flubbed a line, forgot the bridgebut the way he looked at me? *Perfect.*
After, I pulled him close.
«Youre *ridiculous*,» I murmured. «And I love you.»
«Even after the lie?»
«*Because* of it.» I kissed him. «No more secrets, yeah?»
«Scouts honour.» He grinned. «Though… we *could* actually go fishing. Gregs invited you for *years*.»
«On *one* condition.» I smirked. «You sing by the campfire. No professionals.»
He groaned. «Deal. Even if I scare every fish in Loch Ness.»
And as we laughed, I knewthis daft, messy love? *This* was ours.
