This will be the last time.

One last fling before I return to Josh. I may trust Darren but I don’t trust love. And whilst Darren has arrived in my life with a certificate of authenticity, he’s not carrying a lifetime warranty. Josh does. I plan to enjoy every moment of tonight and I’ll make memories that will fortify and edify me for the rest of my life.

That’s what I plan.

We fall on to the bed and he forcefully and repeatedly kisses me. My legs entwine around his, our hands race to rediscover every curve, crevice, ravine and fissure of each other’s bodies. We shed our sticky clothes in a matter of seconds as our skin burns and bleeds into one another’s. He kisses, strokes, licks every inch of my body. Exploring the obvious parts – my shoulders, my tits, my thighs, discovering the discreet parts, my toes, the crook of my elbow, the space between my fingers. I consume him. Tasting his sweat and smelling his sex. I concentrate on the feel of him, which bits of his body are rough, which are smooth. I become familiar with the texture of his hair, all his different hair. His thick, glossy locks, the downy fuzz growing in-between his buttocks, the hairs on his chest that thicken and become more coarse around his groin, the bristles that grow on his chin, right now whilst I’m with him. I listen to his heart and his breathing. Both becoming quicker and less controlled. I smell him. I taste him.

I see him.

The second before he enters me, he grabs my head in both his hands and he looks at me. He stares.

He knows me. Me with his pubes stuck to my cheek, him with my sex on his lips. I tighten my muscles in my thighs and groin in an effort to cling on to him. To keep him exactly where he is now. In me. With me. I wonder how I walked away from this. I wonder how I’ll walk away a second time.

It’s faster and faster and tighter and harder. I can feel my body responding and the response is rising. It’s coming from my toes, circling up through my legs. But it’s started in my fingers too, which seem to be lost in his hair and then running up and down his back. My arms ache with the exquisite brilliance of it. My head spins with the same shocking ecstasy. The intense feelings of luxury creep up my back and through my heart, meeting in my stomach. The meeting fulfilled in acute spasms of rapture. I jerk with sex. I jolt with sex. And when he screams out that he loves me I brim over with a feeling of gladness.

Suddenly everything is crystal. This is the last piece of the jigsaw, the glass of freezing water on a blisteringly, stifling day, the hot, creamy chocolate after an afternoon on the piste, the sunshine on a wet pavement after a summer storm, the thing the songs go on and on and on about. He’s it.

Exhausted and sweating, we fall on to each other.

I watch him execute the logistics of falling asleep: peeing, putting a glass of water on the bedside table, adjusting the air conditioning, discarding the duvet and selecting a sheet instead, and I’m fascinated. I watch him turn on to his side and see that, as his breathing calms, his shoulders rise and fall steadily. I tuck tightly into him. My breasts on his back. His bum nestling in my pubes. My legs folded into his, finishing with my toes in the arch of his ankle. And it starts to fade. The throbbing anger, cynicism and mistrust that I’ve carried around for twenty-six years start to fade. As does the terrible feeling of loss and grief that I’ve been soused in since January. I am simply full of love and hope and possibility. The revelation that we are imbued with something more interesting than physical gratification is velvety. The recognition that I, too, have a need for and ability to give respect, friendship, love and passion sings around my head. This man is my destiny. This man is my life. Fuck it, I’ll risk it. So he doesn’t come with a warranty – so what? I’ll risk it. And I’m so lucky to be able to.

‘Cas, you awake?’ Darren’s whisper interrupts my thoughts.

‘Yes,’ I whisper back, although I’m unsure who we’re being careful not to disturb.

‘I was just wondering.’

‘What?’

‘Will you marry me?’

‘Yes.’

I know. It’s slightly unconventional that I am technically engaged to two men.

18

Here I am in the middle of realizing a dream, a dream I didn’t even realize I had, and it’s good. Really good. Wow. That shit about better to travel hopefully than arrive. Losers. Better to arrive spectacularly and I have.

I have! I’m drunk on euphoria (and only a little bit of fear). I want to bottle the experience and keep it on my dressing table. I know he is it The One. The only one. I’m not sure how I’ll maintain this constant high. But I believe it will all take care of itself.

We stay in the hotel all morning, excitedly talking about when and where we’ll get married. Darren is thrilled when I admit that there’s nothing I’d like more than to marry in St Hilda’s Abbey, Whitby.

‘You mean the church near the abbey. The actual abbey is decayed. It doesn’t have a roof.’

‘No. I mean the abbey. I want to be outside in the open.’

‘We can look into it. I’m not sure of the rules. I suppose once ground is consecrated, it’s always consecrated, long after the roof has fallen in.’ He pauses and kisses a mole on my back. T didn’t think you believed in God. What are you doing? Keeping a foot in each camp?’

‘No, it’s not that. It just feels right. The abbey is so beautiful. I felt calm there.’

We both confess to a hankering for a winter wedding.

‘Although it will be freezing, so I have to consider erect nipples if we are getting married outdoors. They can ruin a photograph,’ I comment.

‘Can they?’ From his tone it’s obvious that he doesn’t think so.

I can see me in a long fur dress and him in navy velvet. I can see it all so clearly. We talk about children, how many and their names! Then we agree that we had better get up and start telling people. I freeze. Telling people that I’m marrying Darren necessarily means telling them I’m not marrying Josh. I’m terrified and horrified. I can only imagine the pain and disappointment I’m going to cause. I turn to Darren and consider confessing everything to him. I’m sure he’ll guide me, and advise me on how best to handle this awful situation. But the words don’t fall out of my mouth. Instead we agree to negotiate a late checkout. I try to thrust Josh to the back of my mind. We order champagne and drink it in our room. Later we order lunch, ‘our meal’ (because we already have ‘our’ things) – cheese on toast which I can’t eat. So instead we celebrate with more loving. At four o’clock the chambermaid and the manager hover, then hammer outside our door, insisting that the room has to be cleaned, as it is booked by someone else for tonight. Reluctantly we drag ourselves out of bed and into our clothes.

We say goodbye to one another in the hotel lobby, but then can’t quite separate, so Darren walks me to the tube even though he is catching a bus. We say goodbye again at the ticket barrier but then decide to buy a ticket for him, just so that we can say a final goodbye on the platform. We wouldn’t have parted at all but I have arrangements to meet my mum and Issie at my flat to do a final fitting of the wedding dress. The wedding to Josh, that is.

‘I expect his reluctance to let you out of his sight was because he isn’t sure when, or indeed if, he’s ever going to see you again,’ snaps Issie.

‘Of course he knows he’ll see me again. He trusts me. I trust me. We’re going to see each other every day for the rest of our lives.’ I giggle and do a small on-the-spot jig. I’m just so full of energy! My mother and Issie stare at me from their seats on the settee. Their faces sort of spoil the moment.

‘Aren’t you pleased for me?’

They exchange looks.

‘Aren’t you going to congratulate me on my engagement?’

Issie tuts, ‘Which one, Little Miss Changie-Mindy?’ I notice my mother put her hand on top of Issie’s in a futile attempt to calm her.

‘It does seems a little sudden,’ comments my mum. Trying to walk the tightrope between tact and instruction.

‘It’s not sudden, I’ve felt like this for a long time, I’ve just found the courage to admit it. I haven’t changed my mind, just my heart. I am still sure that infidelity, shallowness and cruelty are out there. I just no longer believe they are my only option.’

‘You know, you’re right. Infidelity, shallowness and cruelty are out there,’ shouts Issie. ‘And do you know something else? They are right here too. You epitomize them. What about Josh?’

Of course I haven’t forgotten him. I admit that I’ve worked hard in the last twenty-four hours not to think of him, but he’s been with me all the time. He’s the shadow on my intense euphoria. Which is heartbreaking, because I do believe that all he ever wanted to do was make me happy.

‘I can’t marry Josh,’ I state sadly.

‘Well, I realized that you weren’t planning on becoming a bigamist,’ screams Issie. Her mouth is wide open and her face is the same colour as her tonsils.

I kneel in front of them, hoping, rather than expecting, they’ll understand. Issie flings herself back against the settee; my mother moves a fraction closer to me. Although it’s hardly a herald of angels, I take this as a sign of encouragement.

I try to explain. ‘I didn’t believe in love – I couldn’t understand why anyone would. When people talked about love it was like reading reports about war in a faraway country – it just didn’t seem real. And then I… well… I guess… I…’ Issie and my mother are staring at me, which is a bit offputting. ‘Well… fell in love.’