by Paige Toon
And, if I ever wanted to get married, it’s how I’d do it too.
But I don’t believe in marriage.
I doubt Alex does either, after what happened to him first time around.
I’m absolutely shattered by the time I get back to our hotel, but, as soon as Alex takes me in his arms, I feel better.
‘You want something from the minibar? Tell me all about it?’ he asks.
‘In the morning,’ I reply. ‘Right now, I just want to go to bed.’
‘To sleep?’ He raises a dark eyebrow.
‘Are you mad? I need to de-stress.’
He chuckles and starts to unbutton my fitted black shirt with his deft, skilful fingers.
We had to wear a uniform today so the guests knew who we were.
I turn my attention to his shirt, sliding my hands inside and standing up on my tiptoes to kiss his lips. Very soon we’re falling naked onto the bed, his warm, solid body colliding with mine. He rolls over, pulling me on top of him.
‘Did you buy condoms?’ I ask. We only had one left last night; Alex said he’d get more today.
His face falls. ‘Shit, I totally forgot.’
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 lighter blue 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 today,’ he whispers.
‘Can we make it Christmas Eve?’ I say, 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 popp
ing 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 when we came her for her hen do.
‘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.’
Luckily, I’m already tipsy after all of the prosecco at dinner.
The joint is just as bad as I remembered but, damn, I feel full of affection for it. I look around, drinking in the cheesy eighties outfits as we walk down the stairs. Bridget takes me straight to the bar, putting her arm around my shoulders as we wait for the bartender to line up our shots. She looks over towards the pillar.
‘That’s where you met,’ she says in my ear, letting me go and stepping back.
I feel a sudden wave of emotion. I remember looking over at Alex and him giving me this sweet, helpless little shrug. He didn’t want to be here any more than me, yet somehow we ended up being the last to leave.
Familiar hands encircle my waist and I spin in his arms, unable to believe what I’m seeing. Alex smiles down at me as our friends whoop and cheer.
‘Did you know they were doing this?’ I’m amazed.
He shakes his head, his eyes sparkling with amusement. ‘It took quite a lot for them to drag me in here.’
‘Me too!’ We start laughing and don’t stop until our eyes are wet with tears, and then our friends are passing out shots and we’re knocking them back, the alcohol going straight to our heads.
‘Red, Red Wine’ by UB40 comes on. Alex and I look at each other, incredulous.
This was the song we sexy-danced to, all those years ago. He doesn’t say a word as he leads me across the lit-up dance floor and takes me in his arms.
A flash goes off and I look over to see Rachel winking at me, holding her camera aloft. She’s coming tomorrow, doing the photos as a favour. I keep saying it’s not a big deal, but no one is getting the message.
Maria has insisted on doing my make-up; Polly dragged me off to the shops, telling me I was mad to pass up the excuse to buy a pretty frock; and Ed organised an after-party in the upstairs room of a cosy pub in central London, just around the corner from the register office where we’re getting married. Bridget, who has awesome taste in music, has sorted out the playlist.
I slide my hands up and over Alex’s shoulders, smiling at him as his thumbs brush my hipbones. He bends down to kiss me, pulling me closer until we’re flush to each other’s bodies. He holds me tightly, and then we’re both barely moving, barely breathing, just here, in this moment, together.
Until a man dressed up as Michael J. Fox from Teen Wolf crashes into us. Alex grabs me to steady me and glares after the werewolf-wannabe, and then we both meet each other’s eyes and crack up laughing.
I stay in a hotel near the register office and share a room with Bridget, who, despite her reluctance to be without Charlie and April on her hen night, convinced me it’d be fun to have a sleepover – for old times’ sake.
She, Charlie and April are spending the festive period with her dad in north London after deciding to have one last Christmas in the house where Bridget grew up. In the New Year, her dad is putting his home on the market and moving down to Cornwall, ready to embrace the next stage of his life.
On the morning of my wedding day – MY WEDDING DAY – I wake up to Bridget playing ‘I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do’ by Abba on her tiny but loud portable B&O speaker. She follows this up with ‘White Wedding’ by Billy Idol and ‘Going to the Chapel’ by the Dixie Cups, while we sit on the bed, giggling and eating flaky pastries that she picked up from the bakery next door.
Maria turns up after a while to do my make-up, but I’m styling my own hair in my trademark fishtail plait. Then I get into my dress, a pretty, long-sleeved, lace, knee-length number that’s the colour of crème caramel. I team it with brown cowboy boots.
Bridget shakes her head at me and starts to cry.
‘Oh my God!’ I exclaim, laughing. ‘I can’t believe you’re crying!’
‘I can’t believe this is happening!’ she blubs.
‘Me neither,’ I say, shaking my head.
And I really can’t. It feels very surreal. I know I want to be with Alex for the rest of my life, but I can’t actually get my head around the fact that I’m marrying him today.
I’m marrying him.
Nope. Still won’t sink in.
We head to the venue in a black cab after Maria has retouched Bridget’s make-up. Rachel joins us to snap some pics, bringing with her tiny bottles of chilled prosecco for the journey. We all still feel a bit rough after last night, but manage to knock them back anyway.
And then I climb out of the cab to see Alex standing on the steps outside the cream-coloured building.
I freeze, only very vaguely aware of Rachel and Maria clicking off shots. He looks so handsome. He’s wearing a very dark-blue, fitted suit with a pale-blue tie.
Finally it hits me.
My legs feel like jelly as I come out of my daze. He jogs down the steps and takes my hand.
‘Don’t freak out,’ he whispers in my ear. ‘Visa, remember?’
‘Yes, visa,’ I repeat aloud. He casts me a sideways grin and squeezes my hand as we walk up the steps together.
‘You look incredible,’ he says seriously, and then he leads me inside the venue and down a corridor to two wooden doors at the end. Bridget, Maria and Rachel go in ahead, but, as the doors swing shut behind them, I catch a glimpse inside and breathe in sharply.
There are so many more people here than I’d anticipated.
‘I thought we were keeping this small,’ I whisper.
‘It was a little out of my hands,’ he replies. ‘They all wanted to come. I hope you’re not upset.’
I shake my head and then push open the door a crack and peek in, spying my mum up at the front next to David.
A lump forms in my throat.
‘Hey,’ Alex says gently, pulling me into his arms and holding me tightly.
‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ I gasp. ‘I’m not going to lose it.’ I try to inhale, but my lungs refuse to fill with air.
He places his hand over my stomach and presses his lips to my temple.
I don’t know how or why, but I suddenly feel calm. Like, weirdly calm.
He looks at me expectantly.
I nod and go to push open the doors.
As soon as we walk in, Starship’s ‘Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now’ pipes up. I start to laugh and look for Bridget, who’s grinning back at me from the front of the room. This is one of the songs they played at our first eighties club night, and I squealed when it came on again last night. She starts to melodramatically lip-sync to the words and I really want to join in, but then she suddenly seems to realise she’s being completely inappropriate and gathers herself together.
Alex smiles at me when we reach the front.
‘I love you,’ he mouths, squeezing my hand.
‘I love you, too,’ I mouth back, tears filling my eyes. He’s not letting me go, even though my hand is clammy.
And then we both turn to face the beaming registrar.
Ten minutes later, we’re married.
Later the following year…
We’re lying on our sides, facing each other, the lights in the room dimmed right down. It all happened so quickly, at the end. I can’t actually believe we did it. I did it.
Alex runs his hand gently over the head of our tiny sleeping son, nestled between us. His eyes are blue.
‘All babies’ eyes are blue at first,’ he said earlier.
‘Our son’s eyes will be blue,’ I replied determinedly.
‘Okay, I’ll give you that, as long as our daughter’s eyes are green like yours,’ he stipulated.
I stare down at her now, emotion catching in my throat as I brush my finger across her tiny cheek. Not one, but two babies. Twins. Theo and Abigail.
I meet Alex’s eyes, which are swimming with joy and pride as he stares back at me.
I tear my eyes away from my adoring husband and look down at the tiny sleeping bundles again, my heart threatening to burst with more love than I ever thought a human being could be capable of feeling.
Fate finally got it right.
And the timing was absolutely perfect.
Laura’s Longest Day
I’ve thought about writing a mini sequel for Laura and Leo from The Longest Holiday ever since I launched The Hidden Paige – inspiration has just been waiting to strike!
In the epilogue for The Last Piece of My Heart, Bridget reveals that Laura attended her wedding with her baby son, but there’s no mention of Leo.
In A Christmas Wedding, Bronte tells us about Bridget’s wedding in more detail, and this time we hear that Leo had to stay behind in Key West to run their guest house.
Now, in this mini exclusive that I penned especially for this collection, it’s time for Laura to tell us her side of the story…
‘Godammit, Leo!’ I press the button to end the call and throw my mobile phone onto the sofa, agitated with worry and frustration. Now neither the home phone nor his mobile is working.
‘Still no word from him?’ Mum appears in the living room, jiggling Max in her arms.
‘No, they’ve already lost power to the island.’ I open my arms for my son and Mum transfers him straight away. I think she can sense that I need my baby close right now.
‘He’ll be okay, darling. He’s a tough cookie,’ Mum murmurs as I stroke my hand over Max’s hair. He has so much of it – it makes him look older than his six-and-a-half months. ‘And it’ll be lovely to have the two of you with us for a bit longer,’ she adds.
‘Mmm.’ I don’t mean to sound disheartened at the thought. I love my parents dearly, but I was ready to go home. We’ve already been away for two weeks and I’ve been missing Leo like crazy. He’s had to manage Lorelei – our guest house – on his own, and now this tropical storm has been upgraded to a hurricane. The tourists have all been evacuated from the Keys, but my pig-headed partner has insisted on staying put with thousands of other locals. With the power lines down and the airport closed indefinitely, I have no way of contacting him or going home.
