shirt. He didn’t seem to notice. Then he kissed me. It was a long, lingering kiss, a kiss you could live in for ever. ‘You know I love you,’ he said.
Suddenly I got it. With all the talk about glowing and lighting up rooms, this was what he had meant. He was in love with me. This kind, sweet, intelligent, unmarried man was in love with me.
‘I love you too,’ I said.
Right at that moment I did. I’m certain of it.
He kissed me again and rubbed the back of his hand gently across my cheek. ‘I’ve never known anyone like you.’
‘I’m not so special.’
‘You are. You’re the most –’
‘Honestly I’m not. Kiss me again.’
He obliged but broke off quickly and stood up.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing… I… do you…’
‘Keith…’ I said, sidling up beside him. ‘Is there something you want to say?’
‘Well… I was just wondering if… seeing as we… if maybe… you were thinking…’
‘If I was thinking what?’
‘If maybe… you were ready…’
‘You know, Keith, you’re going to have to learn to talk properly, I have no idea what you’re trying to say…’
It was too much for him. He grabbed me by the waist and kissed me furiously, the kind of kiss that extends beyond you and takes your clothes off and leads you into the bedroom. And after his first sigh at the sight of the Wonderbra and French knickers, he sighed again, and then again as he opened first one hook and then another, and as he slipped the silky underwear from my hips, over my buttocks and down my legs he began to groan, and he continued to groan as I undid the buckle on his belt and dug my hands deep inside his trousers. There was hardly time to take the rest of his clothes off before he was inside me. It felt good to have him there; it erased certain memories I wanted rid of. He kept kissing me and groaning, and I kept kissing him back and sighing, and I even started a little gentle screaming and by the time he came I was on the verge of an orgasm myself without even having to try very hard. For the last thrust I climbed on top of him and was delivered of sweet ecstasy. All in all it was a pretty good shag.
I lay there afterwards thinking that this wasn’t a bad place to be a couple of months after the worst break-up of my life. So, I wasn’t completely sure what I was doing but when was I? So, he seemed to like me more than I liked him. I was more than happy to try that for a while. A nice guy, and great sex, where was the problem?
‘You cannot be serious!’ said Lucy, when she arrived at my engagement party.
‘No fucking way!’ said one of my other sisters, Marion.
‘I am not being your bridesmaid!’ said my colleague Denise. (I had no intention of asking her to be a bridesmaid.)
‘You must be so happy!’ said Angela, this total pain in the ass I work with. (Texted her by mistake.)
‘Well, it’s time for you. How old are you now? Thirty? Nearly thirty? It’s time for you!’ said my plain-speaking friend Colette.
‘No, seriously,’ Lucy again, ‘you can’t marry him. I mean he’s nice and all, I know you like him. Hell, I like him, but you can’t marry him. It’s wrong, sweetie, you know it’s wrong. He’s not the right man for you. You’re not the right woman for him. Marriage is a serious business, you know. All joking aside, Kate, you can’t.’
‘I know you’re not going to go through with it,’ Marion this time, ‘you haven’t thought about it properly. Mum won’t know what to think. And Dad’s only going to get upset. He’s very easily upset these days. It’s too sudden. I don’t know why you’re doing this. How long have you known him, for God’s sake? You don’t even believe in marriage. What’s the point? Why are you doing this?’
‘I think it’s brilliant!’ Denise. ‘It’s about time one of us got married. You are going to be so happy. Oh, I know he’s a bit quiet and everything, a little bit nerdy, but he’s a really nice guy. I’d have him any day. Well, obviously, I wouldn’t, but you know what I mean. And, actually, he’s not all that bad-looking. He kind of grows on you, you know. I don’t really like his hair colour, and it is receding, just a bit, but