the wedding invitation and all sorts of numbers and bits and bobs so that I could check him and his invitation out. If he was an axe murderer he had gone to an awful lot of trouble to make himself look credible.
When we’d parted in the car park after our day out at the seaside, he had kissed me very briefly and told me to let him know if I wanted to go with him to the wedding. He said it would be great to spend some more time together, and part of me agreed wholeheartedly. The afternoon had just flown by and I hadn’t had such a nice time in ages. He had such a light touch on life, and had made me laugh more in one afternoon than I had in weeks. He had made me smile and he had listened, and made me realise that there was life after Max, and that without meaning to I had been wallowing in a whole world of ‘poor me’, even if I hadn’t said anything out loud.
‘So,’ Alex had said as we got to my car. ‘Time to go then.’
I nodded as he bobbed in to kiss me on the cheek. ‘I’ve had a great time,’ he said.
‘Me too,’ I said. I didn’t want him to go and it seemed the feeling was mutual because he ran through the plan for Whitby one more time.
Alex planned to drive up on Thursday morning, then go to the wedding on Friday and come back on Saturday. Or Sunday, he offered, still smiling. As he spoke, I wondered if he might kiss me for real, rather than the maiden-aunt-style peck he’d just given me. At which point he leant in closer, and I felt my heart do that fluttery thing that hearts do – and I almost pulled away, coming over all prudish, as I felt a surge of what felt remarkably like pure old-fashioned lust. And then he kissed me properly and I was convinced of it. It was lust, pure and simple, and it was heady stuff. I’d been through a lean time. His kiss was like nectar.
I can’t remember the last time that kissing someone genuinely made me go weak at the knees, but Alex’s kiss came damned close. Good kissing is an art – this was close to perfect; he gently held me by the elbows, bringing me into range, and then he brushed my lips with his. The kiss was just intimate enough; strong but not too pushy, gentle pressure and slightly open mouth but no tongues, with the promise of more to come. When he pulled away, Alex’s eyes were bright with a flicker of desire and a lot of amusement. He grinned. ‘I’d really like to do a lot more of that. Have a safe trip home.’
I felt myself blushing and then he was gone.
By the time I got back to my place Alex had already texted me: ‘Great to spend time with you today. I’ve emailed you the details of the wedding, but seriously, no pressure. I’d really love to see you again, whether you come to the wedding or not. Just hoping you feel the same. A x’
Across my kitchen table, between plates and takeaway cartons, Gabbie turned my laptop round to face her. ‘We could always ring the venue and make sure the wedding is for real.’
I stared at her. ‘You think he would fake a wedding?’
‘I don’t know, do I? I wasn’t the one who met him.’
‘I’m sure he wouldn’t. He was really nice, good company, tall, blond, broad shoulders, and I really fancied him,’ I said, scooping up the last of the saag with a piece of naan bread.
‘So what’s your problem?’ said Gabbie.
‘What if I’m wrong?’
Gabbie stared at me. ‘About what? Him being nice or faking a wedding?’
‘Fancying him.’
‘Are you planning to marry him?’
I stared at her. ‘No, of course not. I’ve only just met him.’
‘Right, well, in that case lighten up for God’s sake. Just go and see how you get on. You’re over-thinking this, Sarah.’ Gabbie pulled out her mobile from her handbag and reading from the screen tapped in a number.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ I asked.
‘Ringing the hotel so we can check up on Mr Tall-Blond-with-Broad-Shoulders,’ Gabbie said. Then, before I could protest, she continued in a warm, super-cheery voice: ‘Oh, hello there, I’m just ringing to check up on a booking we made for later this week. Mr Alex Fallon?’ She paused for a moment or two, listening to whoever was at the other end, and then continued, ‘That’s right. Coming up for a wedding. Yes, that’s it, booked in on – yes – that’s great. I just wanted to make sure he’s got it all sorted. You know what men are like. Thursday for two nights? That’s great, thank you so much, that’s lovely,’ she gushed, and with that Gabbie hung up.
‘Are they allowed to do that?’ I asked in amazement.
‘You just have to get the voice right, and there you go – so far his story adds up. Double room, single occupancy for two nights is what the lady said, but then again I suppose anyone can book a hotel, although booking it a fortnight ago shows some forward planning if he is making it all up.’ I knew Gabbie was teasing me, but it wasn’t helping. She turned her attention back to the screen and started to tap another number into the phone.
‘What the hell are you doing now?’
‘I was going to call the RSVP number,’ Gabbie said mischievously. ‘Get it straight from the horse’s mouth.’
‘Don’t you dare,’ I said, trying to snatch the phone out of her hand.
‘I’m only joking, but maybe we ought to ring the wedding venue and check that out too?’
One thing I should say is that Gabbie doesn’t know that I’m into BDSM – as far as she is concerned Max was just another man, and Alex too. I’m not sure what she would think of the BDSM thing and, much as I love her, I’ve never told her. I’m worried that she won’t understand.
Gabbie, meanwhile, was back on the phone. ‘Hello?’ she said. ‘I’m just ringing to make sure I’ve got the right place. We’re coming up for a wedding this Friday and I wanted to make sure that we end up at the right one.’ She laughed; someone at the other end of the line laughed too. ‘The name of the wedding party? Certainly.’ Gabbie read the names of the bride and groom off the screen and nodded in response to whoever she was speaking to. ‘That’s lovely – no, we’re really looking forward to it. Oh right, that’s great. I’ll take a look on your website. Fine. See you soon. And thank you – that’s really helpful.’
Gabbie glanced across at me. ‘So far, so good. She said all I needed to do was put the postcode into my sat nav. Apparently they’re very easy to find and they’re really looking forward to seeing me. So, little Miss Prim-and-Proper, have you made up your mind?’
I glanced at my plate. ‘What the hell do you wear to the wedding of people you don’t know?’
Gabbie handed me her phone. ‘Why don’t you ring Alex and find out?’ she said, spooning the last of the rogan josh onto her plate.
Which was why the following Thursday I found myself sitting in the passenger seat of Alex’s TT, heading up the coast road towards Whitby with a hatbox balanced on my knees and a genuine sense of excitement and anticipation. We’d stopped for lunch in York and then taken a detour off the main route so we could see the sea. It was a good choice.
It was the most perfect early-spring day and you could see for miles. The other good news was that on a second viewing Alex was just as fanciable and just as good company as he had been the first time around, and we were getting on like a house on fire. We’d talked about family and friends and holidays and places we had been and places we’d still like to go. The drive was pretty much uneventful except for Alex announcing one slight change of plan.
Since we had spoken on the phone he had swapped hotels and hotel rooms with one of the bride’s family because the room Alex had been booked into was on the ground floor, and the family member had small children and was worried that the wedding-venue hotel, full of celebrating newlyweds and their guests, would be too noisy. So we now had a suite at the wedding venue with two adjoining rooms. Alex insisted that I let Gabbie know where I was, just in case she (or I) was worried and felt the need