"I love you, Ste Carter-Hay!" Doug declared happily.
There was a chorus of "awwws" from Leanne and Texas. They were standing outside the hall where the ceremony had taken place, the crisp sunshine making the day even more perfect.
"And I love you too, Doug Carter-Hay," Ste grinned back. "That sounds dead good, don't it? You think we should call the deli Carter-Hay and Carter-Hay's from now on?"
"Bit of a mouthful, I reckon," Leanne pitched in.
"I think it sounds great," Doug said, staring at Ste with earnest eyes. Ste felt an inexplicable blush rise in his cheeks. He was married. He and Doug were going to look after each other for the rest of their lives. Would people think he was weird if he pinched himself?
"Daddy, when's the food?" Lucas demanded at his side, making the adults laugh.
"It's now!" Ste told him. "I wonder where Cheryl is? She's meanta be like, leading the way, or whatever."
"She left during the ceremony," Jack told him, overhearing their conversation. "Some emergency at the reception venue I think."
"Emergency!" Ste exclaimed. "I don't like the sound of that, me! They better not have mucked up the food or summat!"
He felt Doug's fingers lace themselves between his own.
"You know what," he said quietly, so that no one but Ste could hear him. "The whole building could fall down and it wouldn't be enough to ruin this day."
Ste replied with a small, tender peck on the lips. "Here, Tony!" he shouted over. "Cheryl's gone ahead, we're just gonna start walking over ourselves."
Slowly, the crowd began to move along the gravelled pathway that wound its way around the front of a hill to meet the reception venue, chattering and laughing as they went. Ste's fingers stayed laced through Doug's as they walked, his other hand linked to Lucas while Leah skipped a few feet in front of them. This was all he would ever want.
"So what's the reception place like, then?" Leanne was asking.
"Oh wait until you see it," Doug told her. "It's so beautiful. It's made of these wooden beams that were hand-carved by local craftsmen, and the–"
He stopped speaking as they turned the corner, staring mouth agape. Ste ripped his eyes from the horrified face and followed his gaze to the beautiful wooden construction smashed into pieces of glass and timber with a gaping black hole in the centre.
"What the–"
"Help us!" a woman's voice screamed suddenly. Vaguely, Ste could make out the figure of Annalise stumbling towards them. Some of the crowd began running to meet her. Cries of "what happened?" echoed, panicked shouts permeating through the air.
"The minivan…" Ste could hear her broken sobs wafting over. "We need an ambulance…"
He turned to Doug, his face urgent.
"Someone's hurt, Doug," he said, fearfully. "Go help them, will ya? I don't want the kids seeing nothing scary, I gotta stay with them."
Already, most of the crowd had started running to the other side of the building to find out what had happened, who was hurt. Annalise, having delivered her message, had crumpled into a heap on the gravel, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Yeah, yeah of course," Doug nodded, squeezing Ste's hand inside his own. "You take the kids back to the hall, I'll find you there."
Suddenly, he heard it. Above the frightened shouts of the crowd of friends, above the tinkling sound of broken glass beneath feet. A familiar, booming, Northern Irish accent wailing miserably into the sky. And he knew.
In a second, he had pulled his hands away from Lucas and Doug, his feet were pounding over the gravel to the other side of the building. A crowd was gathered now, standing helplessly at the bottom of the small hill. Ste threw himself towards it and pushed his way through.
He halted at sight. Red, that was all he could see. All over his face, his pink skin turned red, his white teeth turned red, his black hair turned red.
"Bren–" he started in a whisper, but it had died before it moved from his lips. He flung himself onto the limp body. Cheryl was wailing wordlessly, bent over him too. Her breathing was in ragged gasps.
"No," Ste whimpered quietly. No, this couldn't be. "Brendan, wake up."
He used his thumbs to push the red away from the closed eyes.
"Brendan, can you hear me," he continued to breathe at him. "I said wake up."
Beside him, Cheryl's head was buried in the chest, fingers clawing at the arm. Ste could feel the hot tears dripping from his eyes onto the shiny red face underneath him. His thumbs found the lips and cleaned them too, whiskers from the moustache grating his skin.
"Open your eyes, Bren," he pleaded. "Just for a second."
Ste's hands wound their way up to grasp the limp, lifeless hand twisted up above the head, broken. The body beneath him was rocking now, but only from Cheryl's heaving sobs. Ste brought his lips down onto the lips, feeling their warmth. Why wasn't he waking up?
Suddenly, a low moan erupted from the crumpled body.
"Brendan?" Cheryl shrieked, lifting her head and bringing it up to his head, searching for some flicker of life in the red face. "Brendan! It's ok, love, the ambulance is on it's way."
Ste fell backwards, floored with relief. His fingers still clung tightly to the deformed hand.
Suddenly, the paramedics were there. Ste was moved aside. There was a gurney, a beeping machine, a spinal board. Men wore fluorescent jackets. There was a fire brigade, shouting orders at the crowd. The deaf bubbled Ste had been in was gone. The crowd was louder, and Cheryl's wails were louder. And then Doug was there, staring with tear-filled, betrayed eyes at Ste who's suit and hands and lips were smeared with Brendan's blood.