Page 42 of Always Alchemy

‘Tough shit,’ he growls, his mouth brushing the stunning Art Deco chandelier earrings hanging from my ears. In true Adam Wright style, he arranged for my “something borrowed” to be borrowed from the actual V&A archives. Mind officially blown. I have no idea how he pulled it off, except for an inkling that it involved a donation with quite a few zeros attached.

I’m definitely considering doing a runner with them.

‘Okay then,’ I concede, twisting in his arms and looping mine around his neck. ‘We should probably circulate together.’

He gazes down at me, all dark and wolfish and perfect: a predator in couture. I can’t wait to take it all off and unleash my favourite beast later.

It seems he’s thinking the same thing. ‘How long until we can leave, again?’

I laugh, because it’s a ridiculous question.

It’s a ridiculous question because dessert hasn’t even been served yet.

Neither have the speeches been given.

Nor have we had our first dance, toYou Do Something To Meby Paul Weller, which is a gigantic understatement but a seriously sexy song.

Nor has the cake, a masterpiece of buttercream and frosted berries courtesy of Claridges’ pastry chefs, been cut.

‘About three hours, probably,’ I say.

‘Fuck.’ He dips his head again to nibble at my neck. ‘I won’t last that long to get this dress off you. I’ll die.’

‘In about thirty hours we’ll be alone and naked for the foreseeable future,’ I remind him. We’re headed to the Maldives tomorrow, and I cannot bloody wait. ‘Come on. Let’s go say hi to all our lovely friends.’

Cal chooses this very moment to walk past, smackingAdam’s backside with a linen napkin. ‘Get a honeymoon suite, you guys,’ he says with a lascivious grin.

‘That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to persuade her to do,’ Adam grumbles, but he allows me to lead him away from our table. Our families are getting along famously, but that’s no surprise. They’ve had plenty of time to get to know each other over the past year.

When Adam forced his dad, Clint, into early retirement years ago, he took up golf, and he and Dad have played quite a few rounds together. Clint’s a sweetheart. The lines on his face hint at the incredibly difficult life he’s had, but these days he’s pretty happy. His main focus, aside from golf, is on when, exactly, we’ll give him a grandchild to go with the two Quinn’s already provided.

He shouldn’t have to wait too long if my husband has his way.

Meanwhile, Stephen and Anna are getting way too drunk with Quinn and her partner Alex, in the way that only people who have a night away from their small children and free booze on tap can.

At the next—massive—table is our Alchemy gang, with the Wright-slash-Gossamer clan one table over. The Alchemy table is, so far, the noisiest and most badly behaved, Cal and Maddy appearing to lead the charge.

No surprise there.

Maddy and Darcy jump to their feet as we approach.

‘Ohmygod, ohmygod!’ Maddy shrieks, throwing her arms around me as Zach stands to bro-hug my brand, spanking new husband (an appropriate turn of phrase if ever there was one).‘You’re married!You are the most beautiful brideever, girlfriend. Stunning, stunning, stunning!’ She holds me at arms length and surveys my earrings critically. ‘Are these the priceless artefacts?’

I grimace. ‘Yeah. I’m terrified I’ll lose one.’

‘You should definitely “forget” to return them. They’re incredible. I’m not leaking, am I?’

She looks down to stare at her chest and I look, too. ‘Um—don’t think so?’

Mads is still breastfeeding Jonny. They’re at the nine-month mark, which strikes me as a mega-achievement, but she’s admitted she can’t bear to see her boobs go back to their normal size. She has previously told me, and I quote,breastfeeding is really great for giving tit wanks.So there you have it. ‘The girls look amazing,’ I tell her now. It’s true. Her black dress is almost as low cut as mine, and her boobs are far more impressive.

She smiles down proudly at them. ‘Right? I’ll have to run to the loos and pump soon.’

‘Enough about Maddy’s boobs,’ Darcy says. ‘How areyou?How does it feel to be a married woman? Isn’t it the best thingever?’

I feel slightly like we’re Austen heroines gushing over the men who saved us from the workhouse, but honestly, it really is the best thing ever—as far as I can tell from three hours in.

‘I’m so happy,’ I tell them. ‘I feel like I’ve been clubbed over the head.’

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