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    They say home is where the heart is, and for me, that's always the beach. Or, as my mum would say, 'Kia mau ki te tokanga nui-a-noho', 'there is no place like home' in Māori.

I was born here, brought up here, lived here for nineteen years, and then though I fled it, I missed it every second. Despite the reasons I fled, and why I'm not back here full time, Bournemouth is still home. It's the closest I'll ever get to living in New Zealand, where my mum's from, and my spiritual home. Though people know my face here thanks to my dad, no one actually cares.

If people see me walking past, if they know me, they'll say hi, but if they only know my face from the news, they'll just walk on by like I'm anyone else because they're used to me. Though I did just pass someone who jeered me simply because they hate my dad for apparently screwing people over. I'm used to that as well; being a politician's daughter is never a fun one, especially when your dad's been a chancellor for the exchequer twice, and is now on his way to becoming a leader of the party – or trying to, he says – so he could be prime minister one day.

Despite being twenty-five now, people still act like I'm still tied to my dad like they do with my older brother Luke and younger sister Lily. It'll never leave us, I suppose.

The cold seawater whips at my feet as I wade through the sand. I'm back home, where Elliott is—was. Has been for six years.

Sometimes I swear I can feel him around me whenever I go to a beach, even if it's not just this one. We grew up here and spent all our spare time on the beach; he wanted to buy a house along the seafront so we could open our back door and be out on the sand. I told him we'd have to move to New Zealand for that – where my mum used to live there, she had that.

There's an old belief in Māori culture – my grandparents were Māori and my mum was born in New Zealand – that the soul of a person dead lives on and turns to nature, and I fully believe Elliott is out here somewhere, maybe in the fresh, salty sea air, or the white sand.

I check my phone. Nothing from Courtney yet. She's meant to be in the hotel above the beach on the cliff, checking in that everything is sorted for our wedding in a few days. The marquee is already out down on the beach, and they cornered off a large part of it.

"Kenna?"

I turn at the familiar voice. Husky, deep and almost like my favourite chocolate – fruit and nut – if it were a sound. Immediately, though, it brings back awful memories. This place, waking up in a cold and sterile ambulance, his hand in mine, wishing that I didn't have to flee.

"Cameron?" I ask as he approaches.

Cameron's changed in the last six years; he's bulked out a little more and his dark hair has grown to flop over his eyes just a little. He's wearing his usual choice of clothes, though, dark jeans and a checked shirt.

"Hey! I heard you were back. Luke told me you were probably at the beach," he says.

After a second, we both hug each other. He still wears the same scent: sandalwood and citrus. It reminds me of that day, six years ago, just before I fled for London, and it makes me want to instantly cringe away from him, but also hug him tighter.

"Yeah, just waiting for Courtney — my fiancée — to be done at the hotel. She's been a while, though. Thought she'd be done by now," I mutter.

This is awkward as hell. My eyes move from him to the waves lapping in and out. The cold sea wind is making a chill run through my bones, but I wasn't this chilly before Cameron turned up.

"Luke, uh, gave me an invitation to the wedding, his plus one seeing as he hasn't got a girlfriend anymore. Is that... is that okay?" Cameron asks.

I nod. "Yeah, he did ask me before. Of course it's okay. I told him to give you an invite, anyway. Clearly, he still doesn't listen to me. Usual big brother shit."

We both awkwardly laugh.

How are you meant to act with someone who you literally owe your life to, but also hold so many secrets with that you should keep silent about? Is there a way to break through the awkwardness and return to the friends we used to be, or is it a destined thing to be awkward and want to sink in the sand whenever he's near?

"Luke sometimes comes out here, not as much as we all used to. He says he can feel Elliott around here. Something about a Māori belief your mum mentioned," Cameron says.

I nod. "The belief that the soul returns to nature. Elliott loved the beach more than anywhere else."

"He used to say he'd get a house with you on a New Zealand beach, though it had to be close to the Hobbit holes."

I laugh and watch as a couple down the beach walk hand in hand through the waves. "It's weird; Courtney's not a fan of the beach, but she's agreed to get married on one."

"You're marrying someone who doesn't like the beach?" His judgement oozes through his question.

I shrug. "Love sometimes doesn't make sense, especially when you're opposites. It breaks through that barrier." Our eyes meet for the briefest of seconds. "I love her a lot."

"Fair enough, just strange to me," he admits. "Your dad's running for leader of the party, apparently."

I groan. "Don't. He never knows when to stop. I've asked him to keep the announcement until after the wedding, which he seems to have respected so far. He's determined to be prime minister before he retires."

"If anyone can do it, Robert Taylor can do it."

I smirk. "I'm going to admit it, the name has helped with getting my bakery off the ground. He's even got ministers going in and had photos taken with me, so I shouldn't complain too much."

"I keep seeing about Kenna's Kakeology everywhere. Such a good name."

I snort. "Elliott came up with it before he... you know. He had his great-granddad's inheritance, which I didn't know he left behind for me in his own will—didn't even know he had one. With it, he left a sort of business plan written out in full for me, including the name. His favourite cake was always red velvet, so my special is that with salted pretzels on top. Elliott's special and some of the money goes to a charity."

His hand falls on my shoulder. "Shit, Kenna. That's so sweet."

I sigh. "I shouldn't think too much or I'll start crying. It's my wedding in a couple of days. She should be done by now. I should go find her."

Cameron inhales and nods. "It was lovely seeing you again. Good luck with the wedding – well, I'll see you there, but... yeah."

"Yeah, thanks. I'll see you then. It was nice seeing you, Cam." Why am I stumbling on my words? This is so awkward.

I take the initiative and walk up towards the lift for the hotel, checking my phone so I don't have to look back and make eye contact with him again because all I can think about when I look at him is of that night, and how everything went to shit because of that night. But the worst thing is whenever I look at him on the beach is of how everything with Elliott comes crashing back to me like a tsunami, and because Cameron saved me, he's entwined with it all in so many ways, and it makes me want to run again, both into his arms and away from them.

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    I wait in the car for her after we hang up the phone, but all I can think about is Cameron. Why did he seek me out? Was he hoping to go over the shit from that night before I left, or to tell me how he wished he'd never been there that night? Did he want to talk about Elliott or Luke? There's only one topic I'd ever want to discuss with him and that's my brother, because Luke's the only common denominator here that's not marred by dark shit.

Well, I don't know about that. Luke was Elliott's best friend as well as Cameron, so he was pretty fucked up after he died, too. But Luke's always been the stiff-upper-lip-and-deal-with-it kind of guy.

The radio changes to an upbeat pop song just as the hotel doors open and Courtney walks out in her denim shorts and white crop top, her pink belly ring on show, black hair cascading down her back. She must've taken it out of its bun at the meeting. Courtney looks as radiant as ever, and my heart pounds as she approaches the car. 

She's gorgeous, and everyone, including her, knows it. I still don't understand to this day what she sees in me; she's curvy in all the right places with pure black hair and plump lips that give me butterflies when we kiss. She could pull any man or woman in the world – though she's a lesbian, so that wouldn't quite work for her – and she lights up every room she's in with her bubbly, out-there personality. In comparison, I'm always the more serious personality, ginger hair (well a light ginger as some people point out, I wasn't fully ginger enough to bully at school, but I'm still ginger), and while I wouldn't call myself ugly, I'm not a traditional beauty like Courtney is.

"Hey, babe," she greets in her London accent. The moment she's in the car, she reaches across and kisses my lips. She tastes like chewing gum, and her usual perfume is dulled by something... off. Not sure what, but it lingers for a second before I shake it off. They must've had wine or something in the meeting.

"Hey. How did it go? Is everything ready?"

She nods. "Yeah, everything is good to go. The marquee and everything are already set up, and we've got the honeymoon suite for the night. I'm so excited!"

I giggle and start driving off. "You sure you're okay staying the night in the hotel before? Part of me is wondering if we should say fuck it and spend the night together. We're not exactly traditional, being two women and all that."

Courtney scoffs. "They're giving me the bridal suite, Kenna, I think I'll be all right."

"Living it up while I stay at my family home!"

She grins, showing her dimples. "Yeah, but you get a home-made dinner and be around your family."

"Happy to swap!"

"Think I'll relax in the hotel for the night with some champagne and then starfish in bed before spending the rest of my life spooning as Mrs Taylor-Colton."

I smile to myself, relishing the sound of the double-barrelled name we've agreed on, but the meeting with Cameron still plays on my mind, swirling away. Initially, when we booked the wedding for this specific venue, I was so excited about the prospect of having it on the beach. The thought of Elliott was there, of course, and Courtney knows about him and that he died, but she doesn't know how, or why, or anything to do with Cameron.

Everything was perfect. In Courtney's world, it still is, but everything in the world has suddenly shifted. I knew Cameron would attend the wedding; I'm not naïve, he's still my brother's best friend, but I didn't plan for him and me to meet again before the wedding and for everything to come crashing back to earth with a thump. 

Though, I suppose that's the point of the wedding – both Courtney and I are legally tying ourselves together as one, and moving forward into our lives as a married couple. 'Ka pū te ruha, ka hao te rangatahi,' as my mum would say – as an old net is cast aside, another is remade. I did the same when I fled to London to start a new life after those dark weeks, and in a way, the wedding is the same thing. One final goodbye to my old life and hello to my new one as Mrs Taylor-Colton. 

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