Page 21 of The Forever Match

Her smile turned into something altogether less innocent as her mind drifted to the last time they’d been together. To Ash’s face in the mirror, lips parted, cheeks flushed, her cocky composure crumbling spectacularly as Victoria took her from behind. The way her eyes had locked onto Victoria’s reflection and held: half-disbelieving, wholly undone.

Victoria had wanted to do that for months. It had been so worth the wait.

Ash was the masc in their relationship, obviously — broad-shouldered, swagger-walking, signature-grin Ash — but Victoria had always believed fluidity was the way forward. Judging by the noises Ash had made, she wholeheartedly agreed.

Of course, Ash had also repaid the favour. With interest. Victoria shifted slightly under the sheets and felt the pleasant, lingering ache of it. She was sore in all the right places, in all the best ways.

Outside, the rain whispered against the glass, and a pale strip of light pushed its way through the curtains.

Today, she was going to marry Ashleigh Woods, with not a single faceless man in sight.

She grabbed her phone, grinning.

How’s my gorgeous wife-to-be this morning?

Ash messaged back almost instantly.

Still smiling about getting royally railed by the future queen. I can die happy.

I aim to please. You ready for today?

Yes, Ma’am. I hope you are, too. If you’re getting cold feet, tell me now and not at the end of the aisle, please.

I’ll be there. We’re getting married today. ♥

Fuck me, we are. A small private affair. Exactly what I wanted.

I’m ignoring that. Have you written your speech yet?

Done.

Really? ChatGPT came up with the goods?

It’s all my own work, promise.

I’ll try to believe you. Anyway, I have to wake up the Swedish princesses. And Tanya is at the door. See you later, love of my life.

I’ll be waiting at the end of the aisle. ♥♥♥

Victoria put her phone on the bedside table, still grinning like an idiot, and swung her legs out of bed. It was only halfway to the window that she truly clocked it. No rain.

For the first time in ages, nothing was hammering on the windows. No gurgling drainpipes. No mournful drip from the bit of guttering nobody had got around to fixing in roughly two centuries. Just silence, and somewhere far downstairs, the faint voice of a staff member having a small breakdown over peonies.

Victoria threw open the curtains, then gasped. The gardens were drenched and sparkling, every leaf doing its best impression of a Cartier window display. And behind the clouds, with the reluctance of a teenager being asked to come down and say hello to relatives, the sun was making an appearance.

“Fashionably fucking late, as always,” she muttered.

Three weeks of unrelenting London drizzle, every weather app on her phone a smug little parade of grey, every aide tactfully not mentioning the forecast. Then today, finally, the rain had decided to have a day off.

She breathed a gigantic sigh of relief.

Maybe their wedding would prove everybody wrong. She and Ash weren’t responsible for global warming. Or the moral downfall of society as they knew it. Perhaps, even, god loved the gays? That thought made her smile wide.

“Knock, knock!”

Of course, Astrid didn’t wait for an answer, instead coming in hot to Victoria’s room, arms wide, soon completely around her.

“How’s my favourite bride today?” Astrid kissed her cheek and hugged her tight.