“When are you going to tell him?”

I opened one eye and stared at Jacob who was sprawled on a chaise longue, admiring his manicured nails. I switched eyes so the make-up artist, who was a friend of Jacob’s, could blend the eyeshadow on the other lid. “Today at some point. As soon as I get chance, really.”

I hadn’t seen Max since Friday morning when we’d both left for work. He was staying at the hotel where Vanessa and Jackson were getting married, supposedly to help Jackson calm his nerves the night before the big day, but we all knew it was to make sure the rest of his siblings were hangover and black-eye-free.

I’d been pulled into the Dean of the History department’s office at the close of play on Friday, giving me the outcome from the interview and texting or phoning Maxwell seemed like the wrong thing to do: I needed to tell him in person.

And now there were two things to tell him. A message just wouldn’t suffice.

I wasn’t pregnant. My period had started this morning when I’d walked around Max’s apartment making coffee. I’d taken two pregnancy tests to be certain and they’d come up negative, so I was pretty sure that we weren’t going to be parents in nine months’ time. I wasn’t sure he’d be pleased by that, given his response last week, and I hadn’t decided how I felt about it either. The negative result didn’t have me jumping for joy, which illustrated that it wouldn’t have been a huge catastrophe if I was been pregnant.

“How are you going to tell him?” Jacob said. “You need to balance her left eye more. Her right lid is a little lazy and on photos looks like it’s sagging slightly. If you use a bit of highlighter there,” he pointed to a spot on my face, “it’ll prevent it.”

“Thanks for pointing out my imperfections,” I said, glaring at him.

“You’re more than welcome. Now, let’s talk what you’re wearing. Please tell me you’ve changed your mind from the black disaster?”

I sighed and prayed for patience. I adored Jacob and all his personalities but today when I was nervous enough about attending a wedding of rather huge size and proportions and telling Max a couple of things that would impact on his future, I needed the calm, non-soap opera side.

“The blue off the shoulder number should be what you go with. With the nude heels. It showcases your waist and those boobs. You do have the decent strapless bra, don’t you? That idiot didn’t try it on or something?” Jacob passed the make-up artist a pot of eye shimmer or something.

The idiot, also known as Peter Coffey, was with his parents in Stevenage, hopefully getting some form of help. He’d been charged with breaking and entering, damaging property and a couple of other offenses. There was now a restraining order against him which meant I could sleep at night. My apartment had been cleared out, some furniture put back in storage, my oddities and ornaments brought to Max’s and the clothes he’d touched or even potentially touched, incinerated.

“I’ve got a new strapless bra that does a good job of holding up my boobs,” I said. “Although they do a good job of staying up on their own.”

“They do, but given that your nipples harden every time Max come anywhere near, the bra stops you looking totally obvious,” Jacob said. He’d brought himself round for dinner on Tuesday under the guise of checking I was okay, which may have been half-true. The other half of it was that he wanted to see what Max’s apartment was like.

“Fair point. Or should it be points?” A mascara wand was waved in front of my face with the order to look down. I hated having my make-up done, but I wanted to look different to how I normally did and as I only knew one way to apply everything, Jacob had insisted he get one of his friends in to do it for me. One of his drag queen friends. I had no idea how I was going to end up looking but really didn’t have time to reapply everything if I looked more queen than princess.

“Just lips now,” the artist said, inspecting my choice of lipsticks. “Let’s go with this. Part your lips slightly.”

“She’s good at that.”

Luckily my mouth was too occupied to swear at him.

The hopefully miracle worker stepped away and Jacob held a mirror out so I could inspect. I had no complaints: my eyes were smoky, there was some subtle sculpting of cheekbones and highlighting and my skin looked even and clear. It was better than I could do, but I still looked like me. “Thank you,” I said. “You’ve done a great job.”

“It was no problem. And now Jacob owes me a favour which I shall be cashing in later.” My make-up artist gave Jacob a smouldering look and started to pack away his tools. I decided not to ask. It would be safer for all.

“The blue dress,” Jacob said. “Not the red and definitely not the black. You want to have his eyes on you from the word go.”

I smiled, pulling off my robe. I already had the strapless bra on and Jacob had seen me in my underwear plenty of times. I had a sudden recollection of Sunday night when Max had pushed me against the window and fucked me in front of an anonymous neighbour. It had felt dirty and erotic and I wanted it to be repeated, even without anyone looking. We’d spent a lot of time the last week in bed, and out of it. He’d taken a liking to positioning us so he could watch what he was doing to me and his obsession with my breasts seemed to be growing if that was possible.

“Pass me the blue one.”

Jacob unzipped the side and handed it over. Then he helped me into it. It was a clingy, form fitting dress with a split up the side and a Bardot neckline. I’d bought it months ago when it was in the sale for a university ball and I loved the colour.

“Let me curl your hair and you’ll just about do.” Jacob attacked me with his straighteners which he’d somehow learned to curl with, despite having short hair himself. “You look stunning.” It was a whisper, so he meant it. “I bet you have sex before the reception starts.”

Vanessa and Jackson’s wedding was an all day and all night event at the Soho Hotel, a venue I’d attended once before with Jacob and his father. Max had sent me a message to say that he was in the bar with Jackson, if I wanted to get there a little earlier and have a drink, and luckily, I wasn’t running behind time.

The four brothers and Killian were propping up the bar and nursing whisky while Grant eyed them suspiciously. My jaw only semi-dropped as I had developed a little resistance by now to the way they looked, especially when they were in tuxes and bow ties, beards and stubble freshly tidied.

My eyes found Max without trying, fixing on him. He’d let his beard grow a little longer this week, although his hair had been trimmed and style. His tux had been made to measure to cover his broad shoulders and narrow waist and I had to bite my lips together before I came out with something completely inappropriate in front of his brothers and father.

He put his glass down on the bar and stepped over to me, long legs covering the space between us in four strides. “You look amazing,” he said, his eyes all over me. His voice was low so no one else could hear. “I think you need to change.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, an easier feat than usual due to the height of my heels. “I think you need to stop growling. How’s Jackson?”

Max nuzzled into my neck, his signature greeting. “Nervous, excited. It took him twenty minutes to style his man bun. We’ve stopped telling him Van won’t turn up because he was starting to believe us. Have I told you that you’re beautiful?”

“You have, but not today.”

“Because I haven’t seen you today. Have you heard?”

“Heard what?” I said coyly, knowing full well what he was referring to.

“From King’s. About the job?”

“Yes. I’ve heard.”

He stepped back, his hands on my hips and I felt the tension charging down his arms. “I need to know.”

I gave him a half smile and wondered how cruel it was to keep him in suspense, but it was his brother’s wedding and he had to give a speech and socialise and not be grumpy, which was hard enough for him when he wasn’t considering what his future would be.

“What’s it worth?”

He started to smile and I figured he knew what the answer was if I was playing games.

“You can have an orgasm later. Maybe two.”

“I can do that myself. Up your offer.”

“I’ll let you live with me.”

“That’s more of a treat for you than me.”

He groaned. “Vic. For the love of all that is historical, fucking tell me. I spent last night desperate for you to phone me and all I got were pictures of you playing with your tits and pussy.”

“That was way too loud!” I was pretty sure Seph overheard, given the look on his face that I’d caught sight of.

“Then put me out of my misery. Am I spending half my life for the next couple of years somewhere over the Atlantic or inside you?” His voice was in my ear now and he was pressed up against me, his hands straying just above my ass

“I got the job at King’s,” I said, his eyes on mine. I saw the hope in them and felt his heart rate rise. “And I’ve accepted it.”

My Max was usually underwhelmed and calm, accept when he was angry. His excitement when his team won or he had a successful case was muted and relaxed, but right now it was as if I’d made all his dreams come true. He lifted me up and twirled me round, laughing loudly. I heard my giggle mix with his along with my demands to be put down as my shoes had been thrown off and I was aware of the eyes of the bartender and he didn’t look impressed.

“I take it Victoria’s staying in London?” Grant said, his face beaming.

“I am,” I said, my feet finally down on the ground although my height had shrunk four inches. Seph passed over my shoes and enveloped me in a huge hug which only ended when I heard Max telling him to ‘get the fuck off her.’

Jackson asked the bartender for a bottle of Champagne and popped it himself. Max kept his arm round me and looked concerned again and I knew what his next question was and what had prompted it.

“I can drink Champagne,” I said quietly, definitely not wanting Seph to overhear that. “There’s no risk. Maybe in another year, if we want that.”

He nodded and I saw feelings swimming in his eyes that made me want to find our hotel room and deposit him on the bed for at least an hour. “Definitely. I’m not relieved, by the way.”

I stroked his beard softly, listening to the teasing comments from Killian and Jackson behind me. “Me neither. Although I think it’s something I’d like to plan. And practice. Lots of practice.”

He kissed me softly. “That can always be arranged.”

“Champagne for both of you,” Jackson said, bringing two glasses. “We’re all glad you’re staying. Van will be thrilled too.”

I broke away from Max to turn to Jackson, who leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “Thank you. I’ll stop distracting your best man now.”

Jackson shook his head. “He’ll be distracted no matter what; he has been since he met you. And that’s a good thing by the way. Congratulations on the job. King’s have got lucky.”

We took the Champagne and gathered back with his brothers, Killian and Grant. Seph began to tease again and we let him, while Jackson pretended that he wasn’t getting nervous.

It was twenty to three when the bride walked down the aisle, a grand total of ten minutes late—ten minutes in which Jackson started to increase in his pallor and begin to clench and unclench his fists while Max, Seph and Callum pointed out all the reasons why Vanessa might’ve changed her mind. Everyone in the congregation was amused: it was just Jackson who struggled to see the humour. His expression only altered when the music changed and the doors opened to reveal the bridesmaids with his bride behind.

Jackson’s gaze didn’t wander from Vanessa as she walked up the aisle; his sisters were ignored and there was no one else in the room. I glanced at Max who was smiling at his brother and I managed to catch his eye. His grin widened and his shoulders seemed to broaden. Then Vanessa was with her soon-to-be husband and our gaze broke as we sat down.

The service was simple and short, the only exception being their first kiss when the celebrant had to tap Jackson’s shoulder to encourage him to end it and continue with the ceremony. Vanessa’s eyes shone as she and Jackson led everyone outside into a large, beautifully decorated room, for the start of the reception.

“More Champagne,” Max said, heading over to me after being stopped by several people. As best man I knew his time would be taken by various others during the course of the afternoon and evening, but his eyes kept on finding me and searching me out. “I need to keep an eye on Seph and Callum. Whoever decided that a free bar was a good idea didn’t consider those two. Throw Ava and Payton into that mix too,” he mumbled and I noticed that his drink looked suspiciously non-alcoholic.

“You’re staying sober?”

“At least until I’ve done this speech. And maybe longer.” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into the side of him. “I know this is my brother’s wedding but I wish I could slip off with you for an hour so we could be on our own.”

I turned so we were facing each other, my arms going around his back and I felt the hard muscle beneath his suit as I pressed in close. “It’s one day, Max. We’ve got plenty of time after that.”

His expression was happy and hopeful. “I would’ve flown across to you whenever I could, you know; if you’d decided to take the job at Johns Hopkins I wouldn’t have wanted to give you up. We’d have made it work.”

“But you don’t have to invest in an air company. I’m staying. King’s was a better offer with the salary and also what they were looking for me to specialise in. And I didn’t want to leave you.”

He bent down to kiss me, the noise in the room quietening as it no longer needed to exist. There was a promise to his touch, and a need and my body softened into his.

“You two need to get a room.” A hand touched my shoulder and I pulled away from Max to turn and see Vanessa.

“Congratulations,” I said. “You look beautiful.” She did, her gown an elaborate mix of silk and lace and pearls, fitted to show off her toned figure. She loved the gym as much as I hated it; she’d kept threatening to drag me along and change my mind.

“Thank you. And congratulations to you too. Jackson said you’re staying in London, thank god.” She started to touch her hair then remembered not to.

Max’s fingers pressed into my waist.

“Yeah, King’s made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. And I didn’t want to chance a long distance thing,” I said, giving him a quick glance. He was still beaming.

Vanessa leaned up and kissed Max on the cheek and then did the same to me. “I’m so pleased. You seem to make each other happy.”

“Vanessa!” Payton shouted and then gesticulated wildly from the bar, blonde hair now completely escaped from the up do it had been in for the ceremony. “Shots!”

The bride laughed and turned around. “Do you know where Jackson is? I really don’t want to start doing shots. I haven’t had anything to eat since a really early breakfast.”

“He’s in the other bar with Killian and Eli,” Max said. “And I think they are doing shots.”

She eyed his drink. “I take it you’re on putting to bed duty?”

Max laughed. “Only till after the speeches.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes and headed off, Payton clambering over guests to ply her with something that looked like a lemon drop.

“Are you sure?” I asked when we were left on our own.

We walked towards the patio where the sea of strangers had parted. “Sure of what?”

“Us. This.”

He laughed, holding me at arm’s length and looked at me. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. Come, let me introduce you.”