Page 123 of Wedding Crasher

‘Lavender,’ Sean said, propped up in bed with an early morning cup of coffee resting on his equally impressive chest. ‘It goes with your eyes.’

Jonny twirled around with a cynical look on his face. ‘I’m not Elizabeth fucking Taylor, Sean, pay attention. This is crucial.’

Sean threw the silver sheet back to reveal his impressive erection. ‘No, Jonny.Thisis crucial. Get that delightful ass of yours over here.’

Jonny licked his lips, all thoughts of lavender and blue chased from his mind by the sight of something altogether more enticing. ‘Love God,’ he murmured, sidling over to the big baroque bed and beneath the held back covers. Sean laughed softly at the term of endearment, and Jonny caught his breath as the sun glinted off his wedding ring. Jonny hadn’t taken the ring off since the moment Sean slid it into place less than six months after they’d met in that snowy smoking shelter five Christmas eve’s ago. Their wedding had almost raised the roof of the chapel, and they’d remained scandalously happy from that day forward.

Yes.They’d already had their special day. Today belonged to two people they held as close as family in their hearts. And they’d be there centre-stage to help make sure it went with a bang, just as soon as they’d taken care of the love-bomb going off right there in their own bedroom

Marla leaned her back against her garden gate, a china cup of ginger tea cradled in her hands as she breathed in the pure early morning air. She could already feel the warmth of the sun kissing her bare arms as she watched Vinnie mooch around in the flowerbeds for his tennis ball. She didn’t reprimand him. It didn’t matter. The garden of the big old cottage was delightfully ramshackle, and these days Marla didn’t feel quite so hung up on everything being so orderly and white. Hell, she was even wearing red striped wellies with her broderaise-anglais slip. Contentment could do that kind of thing to a girl.

She still couldn’t believe her luck. Buying the rambling cottage on the edge of the village a couple of years back had been a no brainer for them, and it had been the final piece of their jigsaw. For god’s sake, it even had yellow roses rambling around the door. Marla had loved it at first sight, just as Gabe had loved Marla from the moment he’d set eyes on her.

Gabriel Ryan.She glanced up at the low-slung white washed bedroom window frame over the doorway, knowing he was in there, sprawled naked across their crisp cotton sheets. He of the dark gypsy curls and come-to-bed eyes, the man who’d spent the last five years filling her heart and her life to the brim with a depth of love and happiness she hadn’t believed existed outside of romance novels. The summer had been kind to them so far, sprinkling gold dust over his skin, rendering him even more beautiful to Marla’s eyes. And to every other woman’s, too; Marla loved the way he turned heads in every room he entered, and she loved him even more for not even being aware of it.

Vinnie, having finally retrieved his well-chewed tennis ball from the shrubbery, rolled his gangly little frame across the lawn towards her and dropped the ball expectantly on the toe of her wellington boot. A valentine’s gift from Gabe, the leggy black lab pup had quickly wriggled his way into the fabric of Marla and Gabe’s lives. Gabe had presented the fat little puppy in a basket tied with sky blue ribbons, blissfully unaware that Marla would present him with an even more unexpected gift later that very same day.

Tears had filled his expressive dark eyes when she’d told him he was going to be a father.

She rested her cup on the garden wall as the postman ambled down the lane rummaging around in his bag.

‘Postcard for you,’ he grinned, holding it out over the gate. ‘Sounds like Dan’s enjoying himself as usual.’

Marla smiled and shook her head as the postman wiggled his eyebrows and carried on down the lane. She was pretty much used to the nature of village life these days, to the way everyone knew everyone else’s business.

The postcard had found its way to Beckleberry from the other side of the world, a jaunty outline of Australia set against the national flag. Marla smiled, knowing that Gabe would be glad to hear an update on Dan’s big trip to Oz with Sandie, the receptionist from the funeral parlour.

Gabe’s best friend had fallen in lust at first sight with the Australian ex-ballroom dancing champion, and Marla and Gabe had a sneaking suspicion that lust was turning steadily into love. The pair had flown out to Australia a few weeks previously for Sandie to show him around her homeland and introduce him to her folks. Marla flipped the card over.

G’day dudes!

Having a fucking awesome time! Weathers warm, the beers are cold and Sandie is bendy as hell.

Wish you were here. A bit. Not all that much. Too busy shagging.

Dan x

Oh, Sandie says to say Hi and she misses you! Blah blah blah!

Marla laughed. It was typical Dan, flippant with an underscore of affection. Sandie had been a welcome addition to all of their lives with her antipodean sunshine smile and can-do attitude. She’d slid seamlessly into the role of receptionist at Gabe’s new funeral parlour at the far end of Beckleberry High St.

She picked up the teacup and laid a hand on the swell of her belly. At almost five months pregnant her body had well and truly started to bloom, and she finally had that impressive cleavage that she’d always wished for, albeit temporarily. Gabe made it easy to accept the changes to her figure, adoring her in their bed, loving her curves with his hands and his mouth, spooning his body around hers when he slept, his splayed hand protective and warm over her stomach.

Marla walked up the garden path with Vinnie dancing around her heels.

Today was the culmination of a love story, and she had tingles just thinking of how perfect it was going to be. She glanced at her watch as she opened the old wooden front door, counting the hours until she needed to be standing up at the front of the chapel.

The day started early over at Emily and Tom’s, too. As on most other mornings, Adam had crashed into their bedroom a little after five am and burrowed his stout little body between his parents, his sandy hair tickling Tom’s nose as he dozed back off.

Emily stroked his rounded cheek, still baby soft even though he’d turned five at Christmas. He was a strikingly beautiful child, a laugh always on his lips and mischief never far from his mind. Tom instinctively gathered Adam against him as he slept, and Emily stroked her fingertips lightly over his knuckles.Her boys.

Tucking the quilt around them, she slid from the bed and padded across the landing to the nursery, pushing the door ajar to check on ten-month-old Isadora. As dark haired as her mother, the baby slept blissfully on her back, a tiny fist curled around one of the bars of her cot. A small silk and tulle ballerina bridesmaid dress hung on her dresser in anticipation of the day that lay ahead.

Adam’s arrival in their family had taught Tom and Emily many things, one of those things being that they adored being parents and wanted to give Adam a sibling. The tests that had been a cause of such heartache first time around had seemed so much less arduous with a child to love already, and with the help of medical miracles they’d welcomed Isadora into their hearts last autumn.

If Emily had been asked to choose one word to sum up her feelings as she gazed down at her sleeping daughter, it would have been blessed.

On the flip side of the world, Dan looked on as Sandie performed lazy lengths of her parent’s swimming pool. Her folks were out of town for a couple of days, leaving Dan and Sandie alone in the sparkling villa and a fridge full of beers. He glanced at his watch, and a quick calculation told him it was just around breakfast time in Buckleberry. His heart twisted a little, but only a little. He wished the happy couple nothing but good times ahead, but all the same he was glad to be oceans away from England today.

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