A slice of wedding cake is placed on the bar top before me—double chocolate with white chocolate icing, a compromise between Mum and Max to have both of their favourite flavours.

I don’t need to turn my head to know who slides into the seat next to me. My body will always know his, and I will always be aware of him when he’s near.

I pick up the small fork and twist the plate to cut into the cake but stop when I see a tiny daisy resting along the side of icing.

“I went outside for some fresh air.” He laughs to himself, and I can feel rather than see him shake his head. “No matter where I go, you follow. I’ve travelled the world these last few years, and you’re still in every flower I see.”

My heart stutters, wanting to fill itself with his words, but feeling the hurt in them. I know how he feels. He’s everywhere for to me, too. Everywhere and yet nowhere for such a long time.

We were never average.

“I’ve been to around ten of your gigs,” I offer up a whispered confession of my own. “Stood in the crowds, sang along to every song.”

I swear I feel the echo of his heart stuttering much like mine just did.

“I thought— I didn’t—”

“Nobody knew I went.”

“Why did you?”

I turn to look at him then. At his too handsome profile, his almost white blond hair that is now a touch darker—more like his father’s— and his long lashes that I know frame lawn green eyes that always saw too much of me.

“Because seeing you live your dream meant more to me than the heartache of not living it with you.”

His eyes close, and he inhales a shaky breath.

“I wish—” he begins, but I stop him.

“Wishing is for naïve kids that blew on dandelions and whispered their dreams to the breeze. Wishing is for a boy and a girl who picked buttercups with glowing yellow skin. We aren’t kids anymore, Gal. We don’t get to wish.”

Minutes pass as he absorbs my words, and I pick up my fork to give my hands something to do, stabbing into the cake until it becomes a crumbly mess.

“Take a walk with me?”

His question is whispered so hoarsely that I almost miss it beneath the noise of the people around us.

I don’t reply with words. Instead, I stand and wait for him to follow my lead. Then, I carefully weave my way through the guests—smiling at some, saying hello to others—until I’m stood outside in the landscaped gardens with the wide expanse of the Brecon Beacons stretched out across the horizon.

I don’t turn when I feel him approach, but walk towards a shaded arbour tucked away in a copse of apple trees.

He sits next to me, the seat narrow enough that the fabric of his trousers brushes against my thigh.

“They picked a beautiful place to get married.” His voice is low and a little unsure. He’s making small talk, and it only serves to highlight how far apart we’ve become.

“Why did we let this happen?”

My question stills him.

“Tell me, Gal. Why did we let it get this wrong?”

“Because—”

“I swear, if you say anything about what we did being wrong or what we had being dirty, I’ll walk away and stay away. It wasn’t wrong. But this—” I motion between us with angry hands. “—this is.”

He clears his throat, his eyes begging mine to listen yet he still stutters when he replies, “W—we were young.” He looks away across the distant peaks. “And I was stupid. I’m sorry for the way I handled us. I was supposed to be the older one, the one who protected you. Instead, I just kept hurting you over and over again.”

“Do you regret it?”

Do you regret us?

He swallows, then leans forward and takes both my hands in his. “Every single day.”

I snatch my hands back and move to stand.

“No, wait!” he flusters. “I regret my actions. I regret every time I pushed you away. I regret every guy I brought home and paraded in your face. But I don’t regret us. I don’t regret a second of us.”

I stare at him. Take in his features—ones I know better than my own—and I see his truth just as easily as he sees mine, so when he confesses, “There’s never been another girl, another woman, since you. I chose to have brief, uncommitted relationships with men because it was easier. My heart could never confuse messing around with them with what I had with you.”

My whole world shakes on its already crumbly foundations.

“I don’t get it?” I whisper, untangling one of my hands and bringing it to my mouth. “You only slept with men because they weren’t me?”

“Yes, No,” he groans as if realising how bad what he’s saying sounds. “Not like that. I’ve always been attracted to both sexes, and I have no preference sexually, but I don’t know—” He stands and begins to pace. His hands tugging at his perfectly styled hair, making it stick out at all angles.

“I thought I couldn’t be with you. I found it easier to hook up with guys that didn’t expect anything from me, and if they began to get too close, I ended it. I never wanted another woman, only you.”

“And now?” I stand, and he stops his pacing to look at me. “What do you want now, Gal?”

“What I want hasn’t changed.”

“And neither have we,” I say, even though this truth hurts to confess.

His eyes flit briefly from mine to my lips and back again, his voice unsure when he asks, “And what do you want, Fflur?”

You. Always you. Only you.

I lick my lips, straighten my back and take a step towards him feigning a confidence that’s built on the fear that we’ll never get to be this close again.

“I want to make love to a man who has owned my heart for almost half my life. I want to know what it finally feels like to give myself to him, and for him not to push me away, if only for this one night.”

“One night?” he asks tremulously. “What if he wants more? What if he can’t only do one night?”

“She can.”

He hesitates for only a brief second before he takes the step that eliminates the space between us and then he kisses me. His lips are careful at first, swiftly becoming bold as I melt into his touch. His arms draw tight around me, and I moan brazenly when he sucks on my bottom lip before deepening our kiss with his tongue. He shifts, and his thigh slips between my legs to press against the apex of my thighs, and reflexively I arch into the touch, ramping up the pressure on a place that yearns for him and only him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Fflur,” he says against my lips, pulling back slightly to stare into my eyes, before diving back into my mouth like he’d die if we stopped.

Gradually the kiss slows, both of us becoming aware of our surroundings, and I feel him pull away emotionally before I even lose the heat of his body.

“I don’t think we should do this. I don’t want to hurt you again,” he says into the crook of my neck, his arms loosening as if he’s about to pull away.

I hold him tighter.

“I’m a woman now, Gal. I’m not a naïve, young girl. I know what a one night stand is, so don’t pull away from me because you think I’ll break. You of all people should know I’m stronger than that.”

“Fflur—”

“Don’t. Don’t make me beg.”

Early evening sunlight bathes the room in a warm haze that beckons us in. The door shuts behind Gal, and I turn to look at him. His beauty takes my breath away. No wonder men and women throw themselves at his feet. Who am I to compete with all that?

Insecurity has my fingers trembling as I reach behind me to the zipper of my dress. As it slides over my breasts and catches on my hips, I instinctively cover myself, feeling vulnerable.

“Don’t, don’t ever hide from me,” he begs, taking the few steps between us until his hands can reach out and slowly grasp mine, leaving me unable to hide from his perusal.

“You. Are. Fucking. Beautiful.”

His words are a declaration and an oath. A promise that no matter what happens tomorrow, he will always want me, just like I will always want him.

His eyes roam over me, drinking in every curve and every freckle that probably seem new to his eyes. I can see him memorising, locking this moment up tight to remain his forever.

With a steady hand, he reaches out and places his fingers on my lips, tracing the plump flesh and the curve of my Cupid’s bow. Down, down, down his fingers trail, between my breasts, over my heart, until both his hands are on my hips, helping my silk dress to slide down my legs until it pools like buttercream at my feet.

I’m naked but for a scrap of white lace.

His hands smooth, and stroke learning every part of me but never straying towards the places that yearn for his touch.

With shaking fingers, I reach out and unbutton his waistcoat and then his shirt, slipping those and his jacket over his wide shoulders.

He’s broader than he was years ago, more defined, and with a trail of dark blond hair that leads from his belly button to disappear under the waistband of his trousers.

They have to go next, and my hands become more confident as he stands and lets me unbuckle his belt, unfasten his button and tug down the zip. He toes off his shoes and pushes the trousers off smoothly, kicking them away when they get to his feet.

Lawn green meets bright blue before something crackles between us and we both pounce.

Hungry. Greedy. Ravenous.

Voracious hands pull and grip.

Insatiable mouths lick and nip.

We stumble to the bed. All scraps of clothing gone, and I can finally feel him hot and hard between my thighs.

“Please,” I beg as he slides his cock over my sex, slipping through my folds, and dragging the wetness up to the part of me that seems to have its own heartbeat.

Galen. Galen. Galen.

“Please,” I plead through sawing breaths as he grinds me into ecstasy.

“More,” I cry as he slides all the way in and I clutch at his hips, arching my back and taking him even deeper.

He stills, buried to the root, his mouth at my ear, his panting breaths tickling my sensitive skin

“Fflur,” he exhales. My name the only word he can find in his lust, and the one thing anchoring him to the ground.

I’m full of him. Filled to bursting with all that is Galen. Stretched deliciously and desperate for him to move.

I dig my nails into his hips, and he jerks, thrusting deep and hitting a spot inside that sends zings through my body.

“Yes.” Another plea. One that he acknowledges with a swivel of his hips.

Thrust. Ah.

Grind. More.

Thrust. Grind. Rock. Swivel.

Ah. More. Yes. Galen.

Our bodies move to a beat of their making. The music between us intoxicating, addictive, and life-giving. Sending us closer and closer to the crescendo we both crave, yet both know will be the beginning of the end.

One night will never be enough.

One night will have to last us a lifetime.

He kisses me again and again, slowing his thrusts and making us cling to the edge.

When he lifts his head to look into my eyes, I fight the urge to close mine. To block out what he can see there. To stop the wetness that pools on my lashes from falling, not wanting it to wash away any of our time together.

His eyes blaze with restraint and adoration, and his lips part with my name on the tip of his tongue.

“Fflur.”

I come apart with Galen following soon after, my name a chorus on his lips.

Fflur. Fflur. Fflur. Fflur.

His name forever burnt into my soul.

Galen.