Laura and John stood facing each other, holding hands against the backdrop of the castle wall, the tops of trees just visible above it, their leaves a mix of green and golden-red, with a turret to their left. The soft sound of water running through the stone fountain, three tiers with four white horses at the bottom, whispered in the background. Josie could almost feel the history of the place, lives gone past colliding with the present in this stone courtyard. Her hands were clasped together, a lump in her throat as she watched the two of them, so complete in that moment, unconcerned about the two hundred people watching them.
Laura looked incredible—a dress of cascading white, tucked in all the right places, her hair pinned up at the back in curls, blue and white flowers in among the gold. She was like a real-life princess, getting ready to rule her castle. She’d clearly known what she’d wanted for this moment, and had gone for it. John was in a kilt, a smart black jacket on top, looking like something out of Outlander. And the weather, as promised, was holding, the sun warm enough that they didn’t need jackets to sit outside. The photos of this moment were going to be incredible, Josie thought.
Bia was sitting on her left, her hair cut into a short, straight bob—she’d had to have it professionally straightened to achieve that—and now a dark purply-brown color, and Jess and Tom were on Josie’s right. Max was there, somewhere, with his perfect girlfriend, but she hadn’t seen either of them, had deliberately not looked. At the end of the ceremony, when John and Laura kissed, Josie could do nothing to stop the tears from escaping, cutting twin paths through her carefully applied makeup. She let out a laughing sob when she saw Bia was crying too, her eyeliner—purple to match her hair—slightly smudged, and Bia grinned back sort of guiltily. Josie supposed it was impossible, unless you had a heart to match the stone wall, not to get emotional in this kind of atmosphere.
When the ceremony was finished, Laura and John, along with the rest of the wedding party, were taken away by the photographer, presumably to do some epic shots around the castle grounds, and the spectators were ushered to the front of the castle for the drinks reception on the lawn.
“Oh my God!” Bia beamed around when they got to the lawn, both her and Josie’s heels—Bia’s a good two inches higher than Josie’s—sinking into soft ground. “There are stands, Jose!” Well, she was right, Josie thought, you had to give her that. There were indeed various stands along the gravel in front of the castle, with different options for drinks—gin, whisky, something elderflower, from what Josie could tell. Bia and Josie split up from Tom and Jess to get theirs—Tom braving the whisky, Jess opting for Pimm’s （“Though it doesn’t feel very Scottish, does it?”） and Josie and Bia going for a gin.
It was at the gin stand that she saw Max making his way over. Josie gave Bia a meaningful look, and Bia’s head snapped around, gin already in hand, to look at Max. “Where’s the girlfriend?” Bia whispered. Obviously, Josie had already filled Bia in on the whole ordeal. But Max was now too close for Josie to answer, so she worked up a smile instead. She’d decided last night that she would be cool, calm, and serene whenever she had to interact with him. She would absolutely not let the bitterness shine through—especially not on her friend’s wedding day. She saw Bia, however, had not quite gotten the memo.
“No scowling,” Josie hissed.
Bia rearranged her face. “You’re right,” she said, a little too loudly for Josie’s liking. “Blasé is better.”
Josie took a deliberate sip of her gin—with mint and berries and everything—as Max came up next to them. “You look beautiful,” he said immediately.
She smiled, trying to make it a little cool. “Thanks.” She’d gone all-out today, because if you couldn’t at a wedding at a castle, then when the hell could you? She’d carefully pinned some of her hair up and curled the bits that she left down so that they fell in ringlets around her face, the spiral earrings she’d chosen matching the style perfectly. She was wearing a dress that was navy blue at the top, sitting just off her shoulders and giving way at the skirt to a cream petticoat with navy stripes, which floated out when she walked. She’d gone for dark blue strappy sandals to match the dress, had kept the makeup subtle but distinct.
Max turned his attention to Bia and did that polite, charming smile that he used on people he didn’t know. “I’m Max.”
“So I’ve heard,” Bia said lightly. At Max’s raised eyebrows and Josie’s look, Bia smiled, held out a hand. “I mean, hi. I’m Bia. Josie’s best friend.” She put a bit of emphasis on the word “best.”