I didn’t need to over-analyse why I was avoiding telling Marcus what had gone on with Alex. I knew, deep down, that I’d already betrayed him too much. The sad reality of it all was that had I made the decision to speak to him about any of it, Marcus would probably understand where I was coming from. He’d had his own heartache during university, too, but we were never really allowed to discuss what had gone wrong with his sour love affair. I didn’t even know the name of the girl who had made the first dent in his lovely, squishable heart. I just knew that dent was there. I knew his heart had gained a few bumps and scratches along the way, exactly like mine had.

We didn’t need to discuss those car crashes over dinner and wine.

Neither of us wanted to relive those moments.

It was the day before Suzie and Paul’s big reception at the Leeds Marriott Hotel, and to nobody's surprise, I still hadn’t figured out what the hell I was going to wear.

“What about the black one?” Marcus asked as he trailed behind me, his feet dragging along the pavement after hours and hours of scouring railing after railing of dresses, skirts and fancy tops.

“I can’t wear black to a wedding. Isn’t that some kind of big no-no?” I glanced over my shoulder and watched as his floppy hair bounced into one of his eyes.

“I thought it was white that was a no-no.”

“White is definitely out.”

Marcus groaned, and the next thing I knew, he’d reached out to grab the top of my arm, spun me around in his grip and there I was, pressed up against him, staring up into his wonderful eyes. “I want to go home.” He pouted, causing me to smile without restriction.

“It’s alright for you. You guys can just rock up in a pair of trousers and a nice, smart shirt and boom, you look amazing.”

“Nat, you could wear a fucking bin bag and you’d look fantastic.”

The roll of my eyes was involuntary, and the heat rose to my cheeks once again as I leaned back in his strong arms and groaned up to the clear blue skies. “God help me, I hate this. Why can’t I do this whole shopping thing? Your sister is fabulous at this kind of stuff. I need her. Where is she?”

“Uch. I was getting a boner from having you so close to me then, but now you’ve gone and mentioned my sister and all is lost.”

I laughed freely as I continued to stare upwards. “Please stay focused. We have about an hour left before it’s too late and the shops close.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. Marcus was reluctant to let me go as he reached into the front pocket of his jeans, but he did anyway, never taking his eyes from me as he dialled whomever it was he was so desperate to speak to. Pushing the phone to his ear, Marcus then slid his free hand around my waist, pulling me close as he eyed the rest of the shoppers passing us by. “Sammy, hey it’s me. Ha ha, very funny. No, I don’t have time for your shit right now, sis. I need your help. What? I haven’t even told you what it is I need from you yet and you’re trying to get something out of it? What happened to that sweet little girl that used to sit on my lap and hang off every word I said? Fine. You win. I’ll sort you out a date with Julian from work.”

Their back and forth banter had me smiling as I looked up at him adoringly.

“Now that’s sorted, listen up. I’m out shopping with Nat.” He paused, glancing down at me from the corners of his eyes. “It’s going… well, you know how shopping with Nat goes. We need a dress for Suzie and Paul’s reception thing tomorrow night, and if I’m left to help her choose, she’s going to end up going to the party looking like she took the wrong turn for the circus. Ouch.” He flinched where I slapped him, but smiled anyway. “What suits her? Tell me everything. I mean shape, colour, style, any of it. All that girly stuff that I was born without, you have thirty seconds to teach me every bit of it. Go.”

And that was that. I stood there feeling slightly useless while I watched Marcus nod his head and listen to his sister’s instructions, and as if by magic, forty minutes later, I walked back to our car with a pair of shoes in one bag and a perfectly fitted dress in another, with not a worry in the world about how I was going to look the next night.

That was what Marcus did when he loved someone. He put them first. He made them smile. He went that extra mile to make things right.

As we drove out of Leeds with the reflection of the branches of the trees casting shadows on my face, I stared out of the window and smiled.

He was a good man for me. Marcus would always make sure I was happy. All the other stuff, the past, Alex, that pull I felt towards him, to even his name, I didn’t need any of that in my life. It was toxic where Marcus was medicine.

One would kill me. The other would keep my heart beating.

Any girl in their right mind would do what I was doing. They would thank their lucky stars for what they had, and they would hold on tight with both hands.

Marcus made sense.

He loved me.

And I loved him, too, despite the dents in my heart that sometimes made it awkward for him to get comfortable in there.

It was a cliché moment – a ‘this is the part in the movie where the ugly duckling turns into a swan’ moment – but it was real, and as I smoothed down the stomach of my purple, knee-length, flowing, spaghetti strapped dress, I stared at my reflection in complete confusion. My hands roamed to the softer, waterfall effect of the material that fell out from my hips, hanging loosely from my thighs. Who was this woman I was seeing, with free flowing curls draped beautifully over her shoulders? Who was the woman with the toned back on display when I turned to look at my outfit from behind? Who was she, and was it all too much?

My nervous gulp only had me rubbing my lips together as I tried to create some moisture there. I was thirsty, my tongue was dry and my voice felt hoarse as I leaned forward and dabbed away some of the excess lip-gloss from the corners of my mouth. Breathing carefully, I eventually let my attention drift up to my eyes and tilted my head as I studied the pale blue that shone back at me, brighter and more alive than ever before. That probably had something to do with the smoky, black eye makeup that Sammy had applied earlier that afternoon. Her shrieks of surprise and adoration for the outfit Marcus and I had picked out could have been heard from London. We sat drinking some cheap form of champagne while she polished my face and tried to make me sparkle, enjoying the fact that we were in a swanky hotel room, feeling a million miles away from home, when, in fact, we lived minutes away from the venue.

Paul and Suzie were the first friends of ours to marry. Cost didn’t come into it that night. We all wanted it to feel like a big event for the both of them, even though they probably didn’t need the fuss. They’d made their decision. They’d made their commitment. All of this was just stuff and fluff to them.

Married, I thought to myself as I continued to stare at my own reflection. Life had had a way of making me grow up prematurely. I’d seen grief and heartache so soon that a part of me felt like a huge chunk of my adolescence had been stolen.

The hands that slid around my waist had me jumping out of my thoughts, and as I slowly blinked and turned my focus on Marcus, whose chin was resting on my shoulder, I found myself smiling at the perfection of the man who showed the world he loved me every single day.

His hands slid to the front of my stomach then back to my waist again. He repeated the movement, his fingers getting lost in the feel of the smooth fabric that clung to my skin there.

“God, Nat.” He groaned, his eyes narrowing as he studied me from head to toe and back again, his hands never stopping as he kept touching me like he wasn’t entirely sure I was real. I knew that look of his. I knew it well, and it made my stomach tighten and my smile brighten.

“Put those thoughts on hold, naughty boy. We have a marriage to celebrate.”

“But…”

I cleared my throat and raised a brow, waiting for him to finally make eye contact again, and when he did, when he eventually saw that I meant it when I said we didn’t have time, his shoulders dropped like he was a petulant child, while laughter bubbled high up in my chest at the sight of him. Turning in his grip, I grabbed hold of his cheeks and sighed.

“You sure I look okay?” I whispered.

“You look incredible. Edible. Incredibly edible.”

“A simple yes would have sufficed.” I grinned, not wanting to feel embarrassed.

“Can I lick you?”

“Marcus.”

“It’s a no, isn’t it?”

I laughed, tears forming in my eyes, which I had to quickly blink back so as not to have an epic makeup disaster that would turn me from presentable to Goth in a second. “Listen to me. Are you listening?” I said slowly, my voice filled with sarcasm. “I’m going to need you to keep your little big guy under control for just a few hours, okay?”

“A few hours?” he grumbled. “Oh, man.”

“Yeah, but just think of all the fun these walls are going to witness tonight.” I winked at him. I rarely winked at all, if ever, but something about the nice dress, the nude heels, the way my back was exposed and my boobs were pushed up, all had me feeling a little bit like someone else for a while. “That bed we’ve bought and paid for… I’ll be laying on it. Waiting. You can do whatever you want with me, if…”

“This isn’t helping,” he croaked, his feet shuffling on the floor.

“If you can wait for me, if you’re willing to share me with a few other people for a few hours, I’ll make it worth your while.”

He looked as if he was thinking about it, and I could practically see the scenes of debauchery that were flashing through his mind.

“Fine.” He slapped my arse on both cheeks, causing me to yelp and jump in his grip. “Go forth and spread your beauty among the masses, darling. But remember, when our heads fall against those pillows tonight, this,” he whispered, jiggling my flesh in his grip, “is all mine.”

“All yours.” I grinned.

Ten minutes later, the two of us were walking down the corridors of the hotel, hand in hand, while I looked down at myself and inspected my outfit one last time.

I wasn’t sure why I felt that nervous energy running through me before we stepped into the main function room. Marcus was filled with excitement, a little too much excitement, actually. It was visible in the way he walked, in the way his cheeks sat high every time I took a glance his way. He looked as happy as ever that night as we took our final step into the wedding party, but as it always seemed to be with me, I was anxious. I had this endless worry buried in the pit of my stomach, trying to claw its way out and choke me.

My cheeks hurt from the effort it took to smile at the strangers we passed, obviously members of Paul or Suzie’s families who I hadn’t seen before.

It was only as we got to the bar, and I turned to take a good look around, that it finally sank in with me why I was feeling the way I was.

I wasn’t used to being so ‘on show’. I wasn’t used to being fluffed up and preened to perfection then put out on display. I wasn’t sure if I even looked like me at all that night. I wasn’t sure of anything.

As my head turned from side to side and I tried to scan the crowd of people that were already here, another reality hit me, too.

I was nervous because I was looking for Alex, and it wasn’t until that moment right there, that I knew my thoughts were trying to drift to him. They wondered what he would think of me if he saw me dressed like this. They wondered whether he would be here tonight, standing by Paul’s side as one of his oldest friends. They wondered why part of me hoped he showed up, even though I’d told him to let me go.

They wondered about all sorts of things.

They didn’t have to wonder for long, because with one flash of the disco light across the entrance, my heart seemed to stop, and my breathing halted completely.

Standing there in dark grey trousers and a white, long-sleeved shirt that hugged his arms, with his copper hair highlighted by the unnatural lighting of the room, was my Alex.

Alone.

In all his glory.

With a gift tucked under one arm and his other hand in his pocket, just like the boy of seven years ago who held a football under his arm and offered to walk me home.

My intake of breath was sharp and painful, and when his eyes landed on mine, even though I knew it was wrong, I took a moment to stare at him fondly. He shone like the boy on the bus all over again. The vision.

The one that took that nervous tension away.

All I could do was smile at Alex Law then, and when he smiled right back, everything else seemed to drift away. There were just two people in the room.

When Marcus’ hand landed on my shoulder and squeezed me tightly, I was forced to blink and turn away, and it was over just as soon as it had started. That would be my one and only selfish moment of the night, I told myself.

Enough. Enough. Enough. I’d already taken too much.