I sink over his body with disappointment.
‘We don’t have to go the whole way,’ he mumbles into my hair.
I turn my face to his.
Our kisses become increasingly heated, and, when it comes to the point of no return, I really, really don’t want to stop.
He’s panting heavily against my mouth, holding back from pulling me onto him.
‘We both want the same things,’ he utters out of the blue.
‘What are you saying?’ I sit up so I can look at him.
‘I love you,’ he says, ‘so much.’ He reaches up to push a strand of hair off my face, his fingers leaving behind a trail of sparks.
His touch still has that effect on me.
His eyes are full of adoration as he gazes up at me. ‘You’re my forever. I want to grow old with you. I want a family.’
I smile. ‘We do want the same things.’
‘Why wait?’ he asks.
My head is spinning and I feel dizzy as I bend down to kiss him. I don’t overthink it as he shifts beneath me, his hands on my hips, and I go with him willingly as we connect, skin to skin, just like our first time.
It’s blissful.
Afterwards, however, as I lie in his arms, worry starts to eat me up.
‘Are we moving too fast?’ I ask.
He turns to look at me, his brow creased into a frown. ‘I don’t feel like we are. Do you?’
‘No. But it is fast… I’m sure everyone else would think we’re jumping ahead too soon.’
‘I think we’re where we’d be if we’d stayed together five years ago. It wasn’t right then, but it is now. Yes, we’re moving quickly, but it feels perfect. Doesn’t it to you?’
‘Yes.’ I nod.
‘When you know, you know,’ he says.
I remember Bridget saying the same thing about Charlie.
Not a bad example of things working out.
‘But what if I don’t get residency? Is it possible that I could fall pregnant and still be sent home?’ I’m instantly full of horror at the thought. Why haven’t I done more research about this?
He cups my cheek with his hand and stares at me levelly. My racing heart begins to return to normal. And then he speaks. ‘Will you marry me?’
I almost jump out of my own skin. ‘What? Did you just propose? You know I’m a nonbeliever, right?’
He smiles at me, unfazed by my reaction. ‘I still believe in marriage,’ he says. ‘My parents have been together for almost fifty years. But, even if you don’t, you’ve got to admit it would be a damn easy way to sort out your visa.’
‘You’re serious? You’re really asking me to marry you?’
‘Completely. I meant what I said. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I know it shouldn’t matter if we’re married or not, and, obviously, it doesn’t, not really. You could still divorce me if you wanted to.’ He flinches as he says this, drawing on his own experiences of a broken marriage. ‘But it would make things so much easier if we want to have a family, if you really do want to stay here. With me. You do, don’t you?’
I nod, tearfully. ‘Yes, I really do.’
‘Then marry me,’ he says simply. ‘Let’s just do it.’
A wave of love and emotion sweeps through me. I bend down and press my lips to his, then pull away. ‘Fuck it. Okay.’
He laughs. ‘I think that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.’ But then he does a double take. ‘Do you actually mean it?’ he asks, now slightly breathless.
‘Yes. I’ll marry you.’ I feel giddy. ‘Want to have another go at knocking me up first?’
He doesn’t have to be asked twice.
The next morning I wake up to find Alex lying on his pillow, staring at me. Sunlight is streaking through a crack in the curtains, hitting his face and making his eyes look bluer than usual.
‘Hi,’ I murmur.
‘Hi,’ he replies. He looks apprehensive. ‘Did you mean it?’
I nod. His eyes fill with tears as he leans forward to kiss me.
‘When?’ I ask against his lips.
‘I’d marry you tomorrow,’ he whispers.
‘Can we make it Christmas Eve?’ I ask, prompting his eyes to widen. I smile at him. ‘I’m not winding you up. My mother and David are going to be here, remember?’ They’re doing a European cruise. ‘She’ll kill me if she’s this side of the world and I don’t invite her to my wedding. Not that she ever expected me to do something so out of character.’
Alex presses a hard, fast kiss to my lips. ‘I’ll start looking at venues.’
A shiver goes down my spine. Is this really happening?
‘You’re pulling my leg,’ Bridget says when I call to tell her.
‘I’m not.’
‘You are. I don’t believe you.’
‘I’m not,’ I insist, laughing. ‘Will you come or what?’
‘To London for Christmas Eve? And then back to frigging Cornwall in time for Christmas with Charlie’s family? Do you know what the traffic will be like?’
My heart sinks. I guess I wasn’t really thinking when we decided on that date.
Bridget carries on. ‘All to find out that this is some big joke and you’re not getting married after all?’
‘I am getting married. I’m marrying Alex. I need a visa.’
She falls silent. ‘Are you serious?’ she asks after a moment.
‘Oh, now you believe me,’ I say with a grin.
‘Are you serious?’ she asks again. ‘You’re marrying him? For a visa?’
‘Sort of,’ I reply. ‘I mean, he wants to marry me. And I do want to be with him for the rest of my life. It makes sense.’
‘How dreamy,’ she says drily.
I laugh. ‘Sorry, but you know what I’m like! I’m not going to change overnight.’
‘You’re really getting married? On Christmas Eve?’
‘Yes, and I would love you to be my witness. My sort of matron of honour, even though you don’t have to buy a special dress or anything. But I understand if it’s too much of a hassle to drive from Cornwall.’
She screams.
Right. In. My. Ear.
‘HolyshitfuckinghellBronteyou’regettingmarried?!’
‘Yes.’
‘You love him. You really, really love him.’
‘We’ve been trying to make babies together.’
‘Holy fuck!’ she gasps. ‘This is real. This is happening.’
‘Yes!’ I’m laughing properly now. ‘Will you come?’
‘Yes, I’ll fucking come! I wouldn’t miss it for the world!’
Alex and I both agree that we will not make a big deal out of this. But our friends and family seem to have other ideas. His mates – including Ed, whom I actually really, really like, which is just as well, because he’s always popping over for post-work drinks – drag him out for a meal the night before we tie the knot. My friends do the same for me, but, when we end up at the same tacky eighties club night where Alex and I met, I stamp my heels on the pavement.
‘No way. No frigging way. I am not having my hen night here.’
Polly looks affronted. ‘What’s wrong with this place?’
Whoops… I never did tell her I wasn’t a fan.
‘Just a couple of shots, I promise,’ Bridget says. ‘For old times’ sake. It’s where you met!’ she urges, shaking my upper arms.
I dither. ‘Okay, but just two shots,’ I agree.
‘And a bit of a boogie,’ Rachel chips in.
I narrow my eyes at her. ‘Okay, maybe one or two.’