Peter watched as Carla took a deep breath, taking his hands in her own. He admired her beauty: the way her hair fell in a cluster of curls over her right shoulder onto the white lace fabric of her dress, and how her eyes sparkled in a way Peter had never seen before.
She cleared her throat and began to speak. He'd waited weeks to hear her vows.
"I was alone for so long, I didn't even know that I was lonely..." She began, looking down nervously. Peter gave her hands a gentle, encouraging squeeze.
"I was in the cold for so long, I didn't even realise I was cold. I turned my collar to the wind. That's just how it's always been..." She let out a little laugh, her eyes meeting Peter's once again. He hung on every word she said.
"All I've ever known is how to hold my own. But now... Well, now I want to hold you too. You take me in your arms, and suddenly there's sunlight all around me. Everything is bright and warm, and shining like it never did before. And, for a moment, I forget just how dark and cold it gets. And I want to hold you close. I don't want to ever have to let you go, and I don't want to go back to that lonely life."
Peter could feel himself welling up. He was lost in her eyes, and in her words. It was like they were alone: just the two of them, savouring every moment together.
"So, say that you'll hold me forever, and that the wind won't change on us. That we'll stay with each other, and it will always be like this. Because I love you, Peter Barlow. And I could never lose you again."
He let go of one hand, reaching up to rub his eyes. Carla had always had a way with words: often accompanied by a sharp tongue; but every so often she'd allow her softer side to show, her words poetic and meaningful.
"Peter? Go ahead." Billy smiled. Peter's hand hesitated over the pocket of his navy suit trousers, where his vows were scribbled roughly onto a scrap of paper. As he continued to gaze longingly into his lovers eyes, he quickly changed his mind. It was his turn to take her hand.
"I don't know how, or why..." He sighed, taking a moment to gather his thoughts, determined to speak truly from the heart. "Who am I that I should get to hold you? But when I first saw you, all alone against the sky, it was like I'd known you all along. I knew you before we met... And yet I don't think I even fully know you yet!" He laughed, before continuing, his tone more serious now. "So, yes, I will hold you forever. The winds will never change on us. And as long as we stay together, it will always be like this."
This time, Peter reached a hand to wipe away a tear from Carla's cheek. He was determined to do things right this time. He was never going to let her slip away again. She was the love of his life, and he didn't know what he'd do if he couldn't be with her.
He broke his gaze with Carla only when Simon appeared beside him, rings in hand. As he placed the ring around Carla's slender finger, the diamond glistening as it caught the afternoon sun through the church window, he couldn't help but feel like the luckiest man alive.
"I now pronounce you lawfully married." Billy smiled as a smattering of applause echoed through the room. He turned to Peter. "Go on then, give her a smooch." He winked.
Peter smiled as Carla giggled. That sultry giggle that he'd fallen so madly in love with. He pulled her close to him, placing a gentle hand on the back of her head. He allowed his eyes to drift closed as their lips met.
A long, low whistle rang out among the congregation, presumably from Steve, followed by a bout of laughter. But Peter didn't notice. He was lost in the moment; in the kiss; in Carla.
As they exited the church, hand in hand, confetti raining down on them, Peter thought that perhaps this was the happiest he'd ever been. This was his second chance, and he was so grateful. He was determined to get things right this time.
He laughed as Carla spun round and threw her bouquet of red roses backwards into the air. The women of the congregation rushed forward, fighting to catch the flowers as they fell. He wrapped an arm around his bride's waist as they watched the commotion unfold.
"Aha!" Michelle exclaimed, holding the bouquet in the air in victory, before spinning around and pulling Robert in for a snog. Peter laughed at the surprised look on his face.
The newlyweds spent the whole car journey to the reception curled up in each other's arms. They entered the Bistro hand in hand, beaming grins plastered across their faces.
As their guests took their seats at the table, Peter lightly tapped a teaspoon against his orange juice filled champagne glass. Butterflies bubbled in his stomach. Only Simon and Michelle knew what he had planned instead of a speech, and they had thought it was a fantastic idea. He cleared his throat as the ruckus in the room died down.
"Thank you all very much for coming to celebrate this special day with us." He began, a slight waver in his voice from the nerves. "Now, I'm not going to speak for too long, because I actually have something else planned. Si?" He turned to his son, who nodded eagerly before rushing off into the Bistro office. Peter took a quick sip of his drink as he waited for Simon to return. As he reentered the room, a guitar in his hand, Peter met Carla's eye. She looked confused, to say the least. Simon handed Peter the guitar before taking his seat. Peter cleared his throat once more.
"Carla, a few weeks ago you said something that really stuck with me. Well, I thought about it long and hard and realised what I should do. So, Michelle's been giving me secret lessons..." He glanced over at her, and she gave him an encouraging thumbs up. He sat down in his chair and positioned the guitar under his arm. Carla's confused expression melted into one of endearment as Peter strummed the first chords of 'Fly Me To The Moon'.
And then he began to sing. Carla's eyes widened. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Michelle must have worked a miracle. She had never heard such an angelic, beautiful sound.
The entire room sat mesmerised as Peter serenaded his wife. Michelle beamed with pride as Peter took on every note she'd given him, producing the most perfect sound she'd ever heard.
As he finished the song, the room descended into silence. Carla let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.
"Wow..." She breathed. She took Peters hand. "Thank you. That was beautiful..." Peter brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
"No." He said. "That's you."
She rolled her eyes, and leant in to kiss him delicately on the lips. They were interrupted by Michelle rushing over.
She wrapped her arms around Peter, pulling him into an excited, congratulatory hug. She pulled away and patted him on the shoulder.
"Slightly flat in the middle, but we'll work on it!" She teased.
"Thanks, Chelle." Peter smiled.
"So, you two have been having secret rendezvous behind my back? Should I be worried?"
"Carla, you know I would never-"
"Peter, I'm joking. Come here." She pulled him into her, wrapping her arms around him, allowing him to do the same.
They spent most of the night in each other's arms. Sat at the top table, they watched as their friends danced, laughed and celebrated their marriage. Slowly, the crowd began to dwindle, until it was only close family left.
Peter was drawn out of his daydream by Carla laughing loudly. She was pointing at a rather tipsy Michelle, who was stumbling across the dance floor towards them, swigging Riocca straight from the bottle.
"Want some?" She slurred, holding out the bottle to Carla. "It's our most expensive. Very... Grapey..."
"No thanks, babe. Staying sober, remember."
"Boring!" She dragged the word out as much as her alcohol fogged brain would allow. "I'm going home. Robert's waiting. In bed."
"Too much information..." Peter grimaced.
"Bye babe. Thank you for coming!" Carla laughed, giving her best friend a kiss on the cheek.
"I think our bed is waiting for us..." She hinted as the door of the Bistro swung closed. She grabbed Peter's hand and pulled him out of the building. Peter couldn't help but smile. This would be the first night of hundreds to come for them as a married couple, and he couldn't wait.
As they stepped out onto the street, the pouring rain hit them instantly. Peter hesitated in the doorway. Carla laughed, tottering in her heels onto the cobbles, raindrops lapping at her skin.
"Come on, Peter!" She giggled, spinning around wildly, arms extended, like a child.
"You're gonna catch a cold! I'll call us a cab."
"No, don't be silly, Peter. Come-"
The headlights came out of nowhere.
Before he had a chance to scream she was rolling over the bonnet in a cloud of white fabric. He felt as though he was frozen to the spot, as if some sinister force was physically holding him back. All he could do was watch, silently screaming, as she hit the ground and the car drove off. Finally, his legs allowed him to move.
He fell to his knees beside her broken body, the rain pounding around them diluting the blood pooling on the pavement.
He took her hand in his and held it against his heart. It felt as though it had shattered into a million pieces.
"Baby, please don't leave me." He sobbed. "Just hold on. I can't do this without you. Please, just wait for me..."
He rested his head against her chest. No breath. No heartbeat. No life.
Carla was gone.