Page 22 of Always Alchemy

‘I love you,’ my beautiful, depraved priest tells me between hungry kisses. I curl into him and smile against his lips like a cat. I’m spent and well-used and practically purring with satisfaction.

‘I love you too,’ I tell him. ‘Tell me you didn’t envisionthiswhen you were eyeing me up at Mummy’s party four years ago.’

His gaze moves lovingly from my face, over my breasts, and comes to rest on my stomach. On the part of my body that gave him a daughter. The skin there isn’t as smooth as I’d like, the muscle not as taut, but he doesn’t care as he strokes it reverently.

‘I didn’t dare dream about any of it,’ he says. ‘Apart from sliding my cock between those gorgeous lips, that is.’

I roll my eyes and pull him as close against me as I can get him. ‘Some things never change. I can’t believe you guys can still justify keeping this massive confessional knocking around.’

He smirks. ‘It gets a lot of use in this place. We started a trend, you know.’

I shrug. ‘I suppose so. Priest corrupts the innocent young penitent who rocks up in his confessional. It’s a hot scenario. It doesn’t get old.’

He massages my stomach tenderly. ‘Nothing innocent about you. And let’s get one thing straight. Tonight, you flat-out corrupted me.’

6

CLEAR AND BRIGHT AND LOVE-FILLED

MAX

Horse chestnuts in flower and the man of my dreams strolling next to me.

The presence of our beautiful—and currently absent—girlfriend aside, it’s hard to imagine how one could top this.

The Long Walk at Windsor Castle feels like a different world from London. Even the rarified part of London in which we live, in our brand new, glorious Holland Park villa, can be intense. Here we have sky and space and history, the blue skies and fluffy white clouds as farcically pretty as the castle itself, with its splendid Norman turrets.

I have a picnic basket in one hand and my boyfriend’s hand in the other. We get a few looks as we saunter away from the castle and towards the statue of the copper horse on its hill, but none of them feel ill-meant. Idly curious, more like.

As if I give a flying fuck.

It’s only Darcy’s second Saturday of teaching at herbrand-new dance studio. These Saturday morning commitments are a bit of a shame, given my weekdays are intense, but this weekend I have cause to give thanks for her absence.

Because I have a very serious question to put to Dex, and it’s one I cannot ask in Darcy’s presence.

We stop just shy of the copper statue of a mounted King George III. I set down my picnic basket—an old Fortnum’s hamper—and we drop to the grass. It’s mild, if not warm, and the grass is dry.

‘Being out here makes me want a dog,’ Dex muses idly.

I let my gaze linger on him, enjoying the play of sunlight on his face. ‘Couldn’t agree more. What kind of dog do you see yourself with?’

He shrugs. ‘Something big and lean. Athletic. A Vizsla, or a Weimaraner, maybe. I’d like a dog I can really play with.’

‘Me too.’ I brace my weight on one hand and rifle in the picnic hamper. ‘You know Darcy’ll want something tiny and ridiculous, like one of those teacup dogs.’

‘Yeah.’ He laughs. ‘Unfortunately for her, it’s two against one.’

It’s not until I’ve popped a bottle of chilled champagne for us that I pause to consider my opening line. The truth is, I still haven’t decided how to do it.

It’s tricky, proposing to my boyfriend that we propose to our girlfriend. I want this moment to count. I want it to feel special, not tactical. I considered proposing to both of them at once, but some old-fashioned part of me was worried that Dex might resent my depriving him of the opportunity to get down on one knee in front of the woman he loves.

After all, this is a man who’s spent most of his adult life believing he’s destined to settle down with a woman, andthe truth is that his relationship with Darcy is the most traditional—theonlytraditional—part of the amorous dynamic in which he’s found himself. I won’t rob him of a tradition that we may feel inclined to scoff at but which is undoubtedly magical—with the right person, at least.

Nor will I rob our beautiful, attention-loving girlfriend of the opportunity to havetwomen kneel at her feet and beg her to spend the rest of her life with them.

As we take our first sip of cold champagne, I cast my mind back to that first time at his old flat in the City. To the first time I fucked him, and the first time I told him how deeply I’d felt since I first met him.

I led with my heart that night.

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