Why can't it be still, even for a moment? This restlessness inside?

I force my eyes to stop wandering around and lean back, eyelids tightly shut, the sound of people slouching in their seats, whispered voices and gentle violin notes swirling all around me, along with fragments of memories I didn't know were still so vivid in my mind.

The moments he made me laugh my heart out. The comforting hugs. The good morning texts.

'Your smile is my favourite thing.'

'Reminder: you're amazing.'

The feeling of warm hands wrapped around mine, his lips touching my fingertips. His eyes roaming over my body, his gaze touching me...

Enough!

Why would you want to delve into the past now? When you didn't allow yourself to think about him for so many years?

Are you some sort of masochist or something?

I'm beginning to suspect I am...

The goddamn bloody universe must be conspiring against me. For sure. Brian was nowhere to be seen at my uncle's and not finding him here either, at the church, can only mean one thing: for whatever reason, he couldn't make it to the wedding either and now the anticipation I've been denying this past month is morphing into irrepressible frustration. The irrational tug of longing mixed with sadness is so acute it's almost physical pain that I'm feeling.

Ridiculous. After all this time, this is just plain ridiculous...

I brace myself inadvertently as self-conscious embarrassment creeps upon me. It's true. I'm being irrational. Who in their right mind would be thinking about some old boyfriend they haven't seen in ages, fantasising about him for a whole month now?

Here's the answer: someone who needs to be thoroughly therapized, surely.

My phone dings in my hand, announcing another text message from Julie. My mother glances down, sighing, and then looks up at me, traces of contained irritation twitching her face.

"Turning it off now, okay?" I mouth as I put it on silence and toss it back in my clutch.

Apparently, there's a bit of a buzz going on at the hospital this morning because of the operation, with the media giving it full coverage and Julie keeping me posted about the whole fuss. It seems Filipe is not even a little shy about all the recognition he's getting, posing for every photo with the lead surgeon and family, more than happy to answer every question.

But I don't want to know any more about it. Let him be in the spotlight, I truly don't care.

"Menos mal que los ingleses son tan puntuales," good thing the English are so punctual, my mother mumbles, stifling a snort of laughter before she jerks her head towards Jimmy, who's been checking his watch every few minutes and pacing back and forth like a nervous wreck.

Obsessing about timekeeping, getting sunburnt on the first sunny day, and the love for a good queue―here they are, the top traits of Englishness according to Mum, which she uses all the time to ruffle our feathers, the British side of our family's along with mine.

"Pobrecito..." Mum shakes her head. Poor thing indeed, the bride is a half-hour late already.

My eyes search Jimmy's and I give him a reassuring nod, Linda should be arriving any moment.

He reciprocates with a wave of his hand. There's a nervous smile on his face and an anxious expression that only fades a little when he raises his head to the aisle.

I automatically follow Jimmy's gaze.

Oh, my God.

My heart leaps into my throat when my eyes collide against the no longer expected guest, standing not even three feet away from me, exchanging a few words with Tammy, Jimmy's grandmother.

In an elegant navy blue, perfectly tailored suit, the tall and overall gorgeous figure with somehow impenetrable expression catches me off guard, a strange feeling of excitement mixed with relief and mild panic, all at the same time, fluttering in my stomach.

Much to my disappointment, our eyes don't meet.

After beckoning Tammy to her seat, Brian resumes his determined walk towards the altar, where he meets Jimmy and Pete, all of them long-time friends. John Anderson is there too, patting the groom's back in the most paternal manner, surely trying to calm his nerves.

I find myself smiling inwardly at the scene, my memory bouncing back to the times we all used to hang out together. No matter what the circumstances, Brian's dad always had a way to convince you everything was going to be all right.

My eyes steer back to Brian, fixing upon him. On the light brown hair, a tad dishevelled, as though he'd just run his fingers through it. On the steel-blue eyes, intense yet holding a hint of disquietude. On the tight smile, distant from the charming, easy smile he used to wear. On the wickedly sexy stubble that gives him a masculine, rugged look.

A gasp leaves my mouth before I force my eyes down.

Five seconds later, I'm returning my attention right to where it was before.

Unsmiling and distant, with the exact same stern appearance he had when he first arrived, Brian sticks his hands in his pockets and lets his eyes scan the full church, assuming a posture that exudes control and self-assurance.

However, I can sense a certain apprehension beyond the sombre demeanour. Or irritation, maybe? Yes, he's upset about something. And it's not just with the loud ringtone that's coming from his phone, one that has startled half the church, himself included.

The shrill, piercing notes of One Way or Another have just broken through the light music that's setting the mood while we wait, suddenly turning the sounds of chatter and soft laughter into an awkward silence.

He quickly turns it off, the expression of bewilderment preceding a gesture that has always betrayed his words and actions: two absent-minded fingers begin to rub at the temple. A nervous tic I'd always recognise no matter how much time has gone by.

*

Less than an hour later, a roar of applause engulfs the church and a woman with a scary hat leans closer to take a better look at the beaming newlyweds.

"Oh, such a wonderful ceremony!" she moans, wiping tears I don't see from the corners of her eyes.

"Yes... lovely." I nod as I clap along, my eyes unable to leave the ridiculous egg-yolk yellow thing on her head and the set of weird feathers and antennas attached to it.

Good Lord, Lady Gaga would have loved that.

The last hour went by in a blur. I do recall You Raise Me Up being the second hymn, but after that, I basically gave up following the proceedings, my mind either focused on the man sitting a few rows in front of me or wandering to past memories, I secretly hope he hasn't forgotten either.

Half the church begins to approach Jimmy and Linda to give them their personal well-wishes. I prefer to sit while waiting for the fuss to settle down, my eyes momentarily distracted by the near-hysterical moves of the wedding planner.

Face red and neck veins bulging, the man in tight, short trousers, brightly coloured designer jacket and perfect eyebrows is about to break into despair, clearly frustrated with the rather misbehaving wedding party. He's really having a hard time shoving us all outside for the group photo.

When I stand and straighten my dress, his eyes pierce me. And then they widen in shock when I turn towards the altar, not the front door.

A snort escapes me. A not very lady-like one, I suppose.

With eyes focused on Jimmy, I walk against the current of guests heading out, a heartfelt smile on my face telling him how happy I am for them.

He nods, beaming.

But then I almost stop, nearly choking on the breath I need to suck in. I thought I'd seen him go outside already, but no, Brian's just turned around and now dark blue eyes are riveted on mine, on his face a mix of confusion and surprise.

​My mind begins to reel, my heart, to thud violently in my rib cage.

Damn, this should be happening in quieter circumstances, preferably with no one watching, not like this!

For a moment, I consider turning on my heel and walking away. Thankfully, I recover from the momentary fit of insanity and dismiss the awkward, idiotic idea.

Christ. Get a grip.

I proceed to congratulate the newlyweds, hanging around a tad longer than necessary―because there's a wave of emotion about to explode in my chest and I don't quite know how to deal with it. Because I can feel him watching me. The rush of excitement tinged with fear is close to intolerable.

"Now go. There's someone there waiting for you." Jimmy gives a knowing jerk of his head toward Brian, the corners of his mouth turning into a subtle smirk.

Reluctantly, I give the floor to the next not so patient guest waiting in a line that has formed in the meantime.

Oh, you can't really go without a good queue, can you?

If I weren't so bloody nervous, I'd probably have a good laugh at the expense of the highly organised alignment of funny hats and long-tailed suits.

"Brian." I hold out my hand, which feels weird considering how close we've once been, but I don't know how we're supposed to do this. Not when we haven't spoken in years, not when my last attempts ended with him avoiding my presence.

"Liv. How are you doing?" he asks, his voice deep and smooth as he takes my hand, my pulse leaping when his grip tightens to pull me in for a rather loose hug.

I return the embrace, taking in the fresh notes of his cologne, wishing he'd hold me tighter. Giving in to the urge, I leave a soft kiss on his cheek. Because why not. He's far from being a mere acquaintance and if I'm honest with myself, I've been longing for this moment for so long.

"It's all so beautiful. And it was such a wonderful ceremony, wasn't it?" I glance around, casting one last look at the lovely, elegant setting. The truth is, I'm forming the words, finding the courage to look into his eyes again. "It's good to see you."

His eyes don't waver from mine and I fear he can sense I am nervous, and I am, for I find myself fidgeting a little with my fingers, something I only do when I'm anxious. And he knows that.

"Good to see you too, Olivia." Breaking the lingering tension hanging in the air, he allows a trace of a smile to smoothen the rigid features. "You're looking fabulous. It's been quite a long time. I'd say...?"

"Eleven years. Eleven too-damn-long years!" I step back and let my eyes run up and down his tall, well-built frame, as though assessing. "But you're not looking too bad yourself... Ketchupito. In fact, you're looking way better than that tall, clumsy boy I used to know."

Seriously? What did you just call him?

He's obviously not pleased with the banter. There's a frown line marring his forehead, which makes me feel even worse than I already do.

I know, that was really stupid. And I'm a right idiot. The moment I finished the sentence, I wished the ground would swallow me whole.

"It's Brian," he emphasises his name, his smile gone. "Just in case you've forgotten."

I'm so sorry. For mentioning the dumb nickname, I know you'd always hated. For trying to be funny when my heart is in my mouth and my hands are sweaty. Don't be mad, I'm an absolute nervous wreck right now.

I want to tell him all that, but the words get stuck in my throat.

I lay my hand on his arm instead, squeezing gently. "Don't be silly, of course I haven't." How could I ever? "Hey, don't look so serious, I was just–"

"Oh, my God, look who's here!" Taking my shoulders in his hands, someone with a familiar voice turns me to face him.

​"Uncle Will!" I force a smile, one that hopefully hides the shocked surprise. Good to see you, but hey, can't we talk later? Please?

"How are you, my dear? We thought you weren't coming! What a lovely surprise!"

"I'm fine, yourself? And how very handsome you look!" I tug at the ends of his bow tie, adjusting it. "Where's Aunt Amelia?"

"She's right over there! Come, she'll be so thrilled to see you." He grabs my hand in excitement, getting ready to take me to her.

"No, wait. I'm talking to–" I try to shrug him off gently. He doesn't even listen and practically drags me towards the spot where Amelia is already waving, and I only have the chance to look back and ask, "We'll catch up during the reception?"

Brian doesn't react, his face gives nothing away. He just keeps staring at me, assessing eyes boring into me.

He's probably still mad. Or maybe he doesn't care―why would he want to catch up with me anyway, when our story ended so badly? I'm sure is life is perfectly fine the way it is, without me in the picture. Why change that now?

My core tightens in response, but I gulp down the frustration, along with my pride.

"Fine, then," I answer myself while wagging a scolding finger. "Now, don't you even think of hiding another eleven years, will you, Brian Anderson?"

I give him a playful wink and go.