AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I scan the rooftop. Josh is mingling with the guests, and Zack looks like he’s started some kind of conga-line on the light-up dance-floor — but one of my shiny new husbands is missing. Casting around, I eventually spot Luke, half-hidden behind the pavilion we set up in case it rained. He’s holding a flute of champagne and staring out at the London skyline, his expression tight.
My heart hurts. I wasn’t sure if today would be hard for him. I had a sneaking suspicion it might. Hiking up the skirt of my dress, I float over to him. He looks down and smiles softly as I wind my arm through his, leaning against him.
“Hello, darling,” he murmurs.
“Hi.” I nuzzle close, greedily inhaling his warm books-and-tea scent. “Are you okay?”
“I’m perfect.”
“You don’t look perfect.” His brow creases, and I correct myself. “You look hot. Gorgeous. Not happy.”
He lets out a breath. “I am,” he says. “I’m happy. Really happy. Just…” He looks out over the horizon, his jaw working. His shoulders are tight. “The last time I got married, I screwed it up.”
I lay my cheek on his arm. “You didn’t, Luke. It wasn’t your fault. Sometimes, people just drift apart.”
“I’d honestly rather it was my fault,” he admits, running a hand through his thick hair. “If it was a mistake I made, then at least I could work hard to not make it again. But you’re right.” His eyes are hazy as he watches the city glitter below us. “Sometimes, people do just drift apart.”
I tilt my head, looking up at him. He shakes himself, setting the flute of champagne down. “God. Sorry. I know it’s morbid to be thinking like this on my wedding day, but I can’t get the thought out of my head. Sorry, sweetheart.”
I purse my lips, then move to stand in front of him, stroking my hand up his lapels. “Maybe it was your fault. Maybe it wasn’t. I don’t care. I know the divorce makes you question yourself, but the way I see it, it was a turning point on the path that led you to me. And I’m so glad it happened.” Pressing closer, I wrap my arms around his neck. “And if you seriously think I’m letting you go, then you don’t know me at all, Mr Martins.”
He clutches at me, holding me in place. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs into my hair.
“Lucky you.” I give him one last squeeze, then pull away. “I’m gonna go thank people for the presents. Take as long as you need, then come find me, kay?”
He catches my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles before letting me go.
For the next fifteen minutes, I float around the rest of the party, chatting to people. Normally, socialising isn’t my scene, but today, I don’t feel shy or awkward at all. I feel like I’m on top of the world. I’m just winding up a conversation with a podcast listener about her dress when I feel two warm arms wrap around my waist.
“Baby,” a low voice says in my ear.
The listener smiles and blushes, quickly scarpering, and I turn to face Joshua. He looks delicious in a white shirt, open at the collar. It’s a hot evening, and his bow tie is hanging loose around his neck. He looks like James Bond off-duty.
I push the dark hair off his forehead, smiling at his bright eyes and flushed cheeks. “Are you drunk again? Is this your wedding tradition?”
He doesn’t answer, threading a hand through my curled hair and tilting his mouth down to mine. His kiss is so deep and so fierce it takes my breath away. My stomach flips, and my toes curl in my heels as his soft lips press against me.
I finally pull back to a smattering of applause. My whole body is singing. My blood is thumping in my veins like I just ran a marathon. “Well?” I ask when I catch my breath.
“I’ll give you a nine-point-five,” he decides, stroking our cheeks together. “But only because it’s your birthday.”
I snort as he starts nuzzling down my neck. “Wow. Wedding champagne really gets you going, huh?”
He shakes his head. “Didn’t have any.”
“Sure.”
“I didn’t,” he protests, pulling back and cupping my cheeks. His eyes are soft as they rove over my face. “I’m just happy.”
My heart melts in my chest. I sometimes still can’t believe that I can do this. That I can make one person — let alone three people — so happy, just by being me. It’s a surreal feeling. “I have a present for you.”
His eyebrow raises. “Oh?”
Leaning against him, I reach into the bodice of my dress. Josh clears his throat as he watches me extract a tiny envelope from my boobs. “This may not be the most feminist thought, but sometimes I appreciate the fact that your clothes don’t have pockets,” he admits.
I give him a flat look, handing him the envelope, and he shakes out the contents. It’s a small, A5 piece of thick cream card, embossed with swirling rose-gold lettering and clouds of tiny butterflies. Our wedding invitation.
We sent them all out a couple of months ago, but I made sure to save one for him. I’ll be damned if he has a collection of other people’s wedding invites, but not mine. Josh’s face is inscrutable as he traces his finger lightly over the embossing.
