Page 33 of Always Alchemy

An olden-day version of me—or a more saintly current-day one—would have attended confession before participating in the Sacrament of Marriage.

For this version, spent and sated and floored with emotion, Max and Darcy’s act of love feels even more symbolic.

Max sucks my smarting earlobe into his mouth as he slides his finger out of my body.

‘Well,’ he says, peering over my shoulder at the evidence of my orgasm spattered across the floor, ‘that looks like a good five or six feet. Not too shabby, husband.’

I bow my head and laugh.

10

I TAKE THESE MEN

DARCY

Put three people with wildly differing worldviews in a room to discuss their vision for the most momentous day of their lives, and you get some interesting discussions.

You have Dex, whose ultra-Catholic upbringing traumatised him but also left its mark on him in terms of the rituals, the sacraments, that feel meaningful to him. The ingredients that, in his mind, make a ceremony official.

You have Max, who likes to think he’savant gardebut is really far more a part of the establishment than he cares to admit, and is quite conventional in his own way.

And then you’ve got me, child of the earth, baby witch, boho AF and utterly disinterested in any kind of crusty, predictabletraditions, religious or secular.

Hmm.

The one thing we all agreed on when we started sharing our hopes and dreams for our wedding day, though, was this:

While we didn’t want our wedding ceremony to be in any way procedural or box-ticky (I know, not a word) or pompous, wedidwant it to feel grave. Portentous.Magical.

Basically, there was no way it was going to bereligious, but we absolutely wanted it to feelspiritual. We wanted everybody there to feel that elevated, spine-tingling sense of wonder that’s palpable when three people love each other and promise to be with each other for the rest of their lives.

And by God, have we achieved that.

As I walk down the aisle, which has been made from white wooden boards laid over the green, springy lawn in these beautiful gardens, a spine-tingling sense of wonder isallI feel. Overhead is a canopy of fragrant pines, their branches swaying gently in the September breeze. To my right and left, our family and friends sit in a riot of white tie and colourful gowns, their necks craned as I crush my dad’s arm and their smiles overflowing with love and support at what’ll probably be the least conventional wedding ceremony any of them have been to.

Floating towards us on the light breeze is the most delicious song, a nonsensical, druidy thing that’s somewhere between Enya and Lisa Gerrard, sung by an Irishwoman called Aoife whom we flew out here to perform during the ceremony. Her vibe is moreLord Of the RingsthanSouth of France Bling, and I adore it, because her voice is that of an ageless mystic come to remind us that love transcends space and time, possibility and social convention.

But most importantly, in front of me stand my two prospective husbands, resplendent in white tie, the scorching hot wank-fest in which we all indulged a short time ago a secret from everyone but me (and anyone who was loitering in the gardens and had a keen sense of hearing, possibly).

Their eyes are riveted to me, and the thrill of it! The astonishing splendour of that love, that attention, that I can feel from here as viscerally as if we were all naked in bed together. This journey down the aisle feels as symbolic as it does endless. It’s how I imagine the last few metres of a marathon must feel to a runner who’s spent every last drop of their energy to limp to the finish line.

Our time together may have been relatively short so far, but by God, it feels like we’ve travelled a thousand miles. Dex in particular has overcome so much to be here—his ownfatherisn’t even here, for Chrissakes—and that conflict he’s had to manage between his feelings and his upbringing and his family has taken its toll on all three of us. Even as our relationship, our feelings, progressed, I didn’t know, didn’t dare to hope, that it would turn out likethis, with the boys already legally hitched and three of us preparing to declare our love for each other in front of a couple of hundred of our nearest and dearest.

And now I only have a few metres left until I reach the finish line, until I can breathe that sigh of relief, becausewe made it.

As I approach my guys, I allow myself a moment to drink in the sight of our families and best friends sitting in the front few rows. Dex’s mum Lauren, who is thankfully way less of a religious bigot than his fucking father, who I’vestillnever met, is sitting with Max’s dad Charles and Belle and Rafe, right in front of Maddy, Zach, Stella and Nancy. Maddy’s hilarious mum, Verity, is here too with Maddy’s stepfather, Justin, who’s a total Daddy if you ask me. Anyway, kudos to the French family for getting out here with six-month-old Jonny, who’s currently napping inside with his baby BFF Rosalie Charlton under the excellent care of his nanny while his older sisters soak up the scene.

On the other side sit my sister and Anton with all four of his kids. I have to say, they’ve been fucking invaluable at making the prospect of my marryingtwoguys palatable to my parents. I also have to admit that Gen’s doing far better as a stepmother than I ever would have expected, much as it pains me to say it.

The rest of the Alchemy crew are here too—my childhood crush, Cal, with his lovely wife, Aida, and their boys, and my girl Nat with her adoring and filthy rich fiancé, Adam. He popped the question last month in Sicily, and her engagement solitaire is even more revoltingly blinding than mine. More relevantly tomoi, she made my wedding dress—well, she designed it and her team at Gossamer made it. It’s the dog’s bollocks, if I say so myself. She totally nailed thesexy druidbrief I gave her.

I’m truly happy to see everyone I love here. Honestly, I’m thrilled.

But then Max and Dex reach out, each taking one of my hands as I ascend the two small steps to the little platform on which the ceremony will take place, and everyone and everything around us vanishes.

We’re in our magic circle, the three of us, and the rest of the world can cease to exist, for all I care.

Which, coming from an attention whore like me, says an awful lot.

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