Page 18 of The Forever Match

Royal wedding in: 1 day

The hotel bar was the kind of place that whispered money rather than shouted it: dark green velvet banquettes, brass fixtures polished to a soft glow, a marble counter veined with gold. Crystal decanters caught the low light along the back shelf, and somewhere a vinyl record turned, something jazzy and unhurried. The air smelled of old leather, along with the vases of red and white roses scattered across the bar and tables. It wasn’t lost on Ash that the colour choice was patriotic, for their wedding. The capital was currently festooned with bunting and flags, Union Jacks and St George’s Crosses flapping valiantly in the never-ending rain.

“What is wrong with you today? I mean, apart from the fact that you’re marrying the future Queen tomorrow with the whole world watching.” Cam smiled at her own joke, swirling her bottle of IPA. “I dunno, you seem… spaced out. Not very Ashleigh Woods. Not very Lionesses captain.”

Just hearing the word captain again made Ash’s clit pulse, which was really not what she needed around Cam. But she couldn’t tell her that.

Nor could she tell her the unvarnished truth about why she was so scattered. The fact that last night had been so special. She’d been royally railed by Princess Victoria, and it had completely skewed her focus. Thank goodness she’d managed to write her vows this afternoon, after she snuck out of the house on the way here, laying flat in the back of a royal car so the press didn’t see her.

Last night, she’d needed something to take her mind off tomorrow. Now, she had that, and it had inspired her vows. But there was still the small matter of her speech to write…

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not the Lionesses captain right now. I’m not today, nor will I be tomorrow. I’m currently a woman about to get married in the full glare of publicity, so excuse me if I’m a little freaked out.”

Cam held up her massive hands — the ones that had saved England so many times — palms out in surrender. “Okay. Whatever you say. I don’t want to rile up the bride.”

The bartender arrived with two fresh beers, sliding them across the marble towards Cam and Ash, condensation pooling beneath the bottle.

“Thanks, Ricardo,” Ash told him, slipping him a generous tip. The bar was mercifully empty save for the two of them. They’d hired the whole place for privacy. Just Ash’s parents, her aunt and uncle, and her two cousins the other occupants, and they were due down for dinner soon.

“So.” Cam took a swig of her fresh beer. “Your speech.”

Ash suddenly knew what the phrase ‘hot under the collar’ meant. She picked at the corner of her label. “What about it?”

Cam cocked her head. “That’s not an answer, mate.” She narrowed her eyes. “Ashleigh Woods. You’re the person who is always prepared. Look me in the face and tell me you’ve written that speech.”

Ash looked her dead in the eyebrow. She couldn’t quite bring herself to eyeball her best friend.

“Oh my fucking god.” Cam put her beer back on its mat. “You’re getting married in”—she checked her watch—“sixteen hours, and you haven’t even started.”

Ash held up her index finger. “Not true. I’ve got notes.”

”Notes.”

”Bullet points.” She paused. “Vibes.”

Even she knew how that sounded coming out of her mouth.

”Vibes.” Cam’s tone was incredulous.

Ash waved a hand like it was nothing, but her jaw tightened, and a headache limbered up at the base of her skull. She’d thought cracking the vows was the breakthrough she needed. But when she pulled up a blank page to write her speech, the cursor had blinked at her, and she’d drawn a blank.

“I wrote the vows this afternoon.” But what if they weren’t as good as she’d first thought? She pushed that nagging doubt aside.

“That took everything out of me. The speech is…” Ash waved a hand. “It’ll come. I’ve done post-match interviews on live telly with a torn hamstring. I can wing a speech.”

Cam didn’t buy it for one second. “You cannot wing a wedding speech, Ash. Your mother-in-law is the Queen.”

Ash’s stomach churned. She might be sick. “Thanks. I’d forgotten.” She scowled at Cam, whose eyes were wide.

Behind them, the door to the bar swung open, and Ash’s family arrived in a small, chattering herd. Her mum first, in a soft cream jumper and her good jeans, already misty-eyed at the sight of her daughter. Her mum’s sister, Jaz, was by her side, in a silk blouse she’d clearly bought special. Just behind them were her dad in a navy shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a brown leather belt that matched his shoes, along with Uncle Dave in a polo shirt stretched tight across his stomach. Bringing up the rear were Ash’s cousins, Kelly and Beth, the latter already filming something on her phone.

”There she is.” Her mum crossed the room and cupped Ash’s face in both hands. ”There’s my little girl.”

Ash rolled her eyes. “Mum. I saw you two hours ago.”

”And you’re still my little girl.” She kissed Ash’s forehead, then her cheek, then her forehead again, like she was checking for a fever. ”My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

”Steady on, Deb.” Her dad gave Ash’s shoulder a squeeze that turned into a hug halfway through. When he let go, he shook Cam’s hand.