Megan & Nathan

Megan and Nathan met on a scuba certification course. Neither of them was there to meet anyone. They were there to learn to breathe underwater, which they both did, and then carried on doing together for years afterwards.

Diving is the thread running through everything else. It takes them around the world and takes up most of the time in between, which is a fair description of how they live generally: away often, rarely in the same place twice.

It's also why they came to us with a date, a feeling and very little else. They weren't going to project-manage a wedding across four time zones and they didn't pretend otherwise. What they gave us instead was a clear sense of who they are, and the room to build the day out of it.

The design came from the water, though not the postcard version of it. Dusty blue, cream and gold, quieter than the Caribbean outside, closer to the light you get a few metres down.

They married at a private estate on the edge of the city, the kind with its own stretch of beach behind the wall, so the day sat between town and open water without belonging to either. Eighty people came, and none of them had to move: ceremony, dinner and dancing all happened within the same walls.

The gazebo looks straight out at turquoise, so we worked with that rather than competing. Blue and white flowers layered with shells until it read as something the sea had assembled rather than something assembled in front of it.

The reference kept surfacing in small ways after that instead of announcing itself once and stopping. Dusty blue tails falling from the backs of the chairs. Coral and conch shells set among the places at each table, close enough to pick up.

A piano and saxophone duo played through cocktail hour. Later a DJ took the rest of the night. Somewhere in between, Megan and Nathan slipped into town for a few minutes on the floating bridge and came straight back.

They spend most of their lives going under. For one afternoon in November, the sea stayed where they could see it.