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‘That’s not true,’ Leigh said. ‘You have plenty of other things.’

‘Like what?’

Leigh decided to start with the basics. ‘You’re a great kisser.’

Alex smiled, pleased. ‘That’s still technically a mouth thing.’

Leigh rolled her eyes and pushed on. ‘And you make me laugh. And there’s sweetness in you, though I know you don’t like to admit it. And I like the way you go after things. I like the passion in you. I like the way you stand up for yourself. I like the way you stood up for others tonight. You don’t need to sell me on Alex Walker.’

Alex went quiet, a minor miracle. Eventually, she leant across the table, taking both of Leigh’s hands. ‘I want it this, too. And I'm also scared. But here are the things that pull me to you. Firstly, your bum is world-class.’

Leigh started to laugh.

‘I’m serious,’ Alex said. ‘It mesmerises me. It does this bounce thing, but it’s also incredibly firm at the same time. It defies logic.’ Alex wiped the smile off her face and tried for serious. ‘But more than that, you’re kind. You’re not afraid to feel things, even when it breaks you. You’re honest. You don’t let me get away with anything. And I like talking to you more than I’ve ever liked talking to anyone.’

They looked at each other for a long moment. Then Alex said, very seriously, ‘You’ve got ketchup on her palm.’

‘I do,’ Leigh admitted, just as seriously. ‘I really do.’

They parted hands and wiped them both off on napkins with small smiles at each other.

‘So, is that offer to go to yours still open?’ Alex asked anxiously.

Leigh gave her a hard look. ‘You still gonna be there when I wake up this time?’

Alex nodded. ‘You bet your unbelievable arse I will be.’

Leigh stood. ‘Then follow me.’ And she walked away from the table, hearing Alex scraping her chair out, desperately trying to catch up. She felt confident that tonight she could ask for what she wanted, and she was absolutely gonna get it.

Forty-One

Three years later

Alex was standing up at her desk, looking at a wedding dress, frowning. ‘This is it?’

Steven nodded.

‘It’s a meringue,’ Alex said. ‘I said no meringues.’

He sighed. ‘I can call the designer, but this is what she sent over.’

‘You better,’ Alex told him. ‘If Tara Anders sees this, she’ll flip her shit.’

‘This is the seventh dress. She hated every single one,’ Steven pointed out.

‘That she has,’ Alex agreed.

‘Maybe it’s not about the dress. Does she even want to get married?’ Steven asked, a reasonable question.

‘That’s not for me to worry about,’ Alex said. ‘She says make my wedding a big deal, I do it. I just need her to follow through so I don’t have to give massive refunds to any of the sponsors she asked me to get her.’

‘Is she even gonna make it to the day?’ Steven asked.

‘If I have to piggyback her down that fucking aisle, she’s going to get married,’ Alex assured him.

‘What about Dan? You think he’ll make it?’

‘Tara is wife number four, so I don’t know about the long term, but at least we know he can fully commit to a choice of cummerbund.’