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“What happened seven mo—” Lucy widened her eyes. “Oh, right.”

“Lucy, don’t tell Mark.”

“Never mind Mark, why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped!”

“Because I catch a sniffle and you drop everything. Your concern would make Freddie curious, and if Freddie found out…”

“He would tell Mark.” Lucy nodded. “But wouldn’t it be good if Mark knew? I bet he’d try to be home more, and I thought that was what you wanted?”

“It is, but I don’t want him turning down jobs because of my panic attacks. He’s living his dream, Lucy—I’d never take that away from him or ask him to choose between me or work. If we got married, I bet I wouldn’t feel so anxious. Life would be more secure…I just think I’d feel more settled, knowing where we were headed. Maybe I wouldn’t sweat his absences as much? With a ring on his finger, he’d never forget me, either…”

Lucy smiled sympathetically. “Oh, Lex. Marriage won’t guarantee that you two will stay together. Just look at my parents—fuck, look at yours!”

“I know all that, but why should having divorced parents and a dysfunctional childhood automatically make me a commitment-phobe? If anything, the opposite is true—I know what NOT to do. I don’t want to lose him, Lucy.”

“Don’t be daft. Look, he’s got this engagement ring, yeah? And now he knows you want to get married. So, you’re dealing with when, not if, right? You just need to be patient, let him get there in his own time, babe. I wouldn’t be surprised if he proposes with the ring inside a snapdragon, the old romantic.”

“Or a big bag of chocolate Buttons.” A shy smile returned to Alex’s face.

“You’ve got a good thing with Mark. Don’t spoil it by fixating on the future or dwelling on what could go wrong. You’re with him now—that’s what matters. He’s totally committed to you, and any idiot can see you two were made for each other. And hey, the next time you’re feeling anxious, please talk to me, okay?”

Alex nodded.

Another ABBA tune blasted from the speakers—“Dancing Queen” this time—and Naomi took centre stage on the dance floor. Lucy screwed up her face. “Fuuuuuck, the queen of shameless self-promotion strikes again.” She turned her back. “I guess it’s my job to remind Naomi that she’s a swing in Mamma Mia!, not the lead. She’s taking the piss.”

“Didn’t she tell you?” Alex shouted over the music as a sweaty Freddie bounded over. “After the honeymoon, she becomes an ensemble member and the understudy for the role of Sophie. She found out this morning.”

“Now we’ll have to go see it.” Freddie stuck out his tongue. “Bloody musicals. Better pack an EpiPen. I may keel over in my ice cream from anaphylactic shock.”

Looking past Freddie and Lucy, Alex’s face lit up.

“You’re only excited because you like cheesy tunes and jazz hands,” said Freddie.

Mark swooped in and laid a sweaty arm over Alex’s shoulder. “Hey stranger.” His lips didn’t hold back, reclaiming her mouth and ignoring all the distractions that lurked only an elbow away: their friends, the reception—the world—could wait.

Her free hand slipped through Mark’s hair, its messy chaos impossible to resist.

He broke away with a smile, helping himself to Alex’s champagne. “That Caprice grabbed Si’s butt. She’s so drunk, she can’t even tell he’s gay.”

“Excuse me, Mark?”

Mark, Alex, Freddie, and Lucy turned towards the posh voice. A thirty-something brunette with gravity defying breasts bursting from a low-cut designer dress hovered with a cocktail napkin in her hand. “Can I have your autograph? I’m a huge fan.”

Alex gave the woman a smile, but the fan ignored her like she was invisible.

“Abso-bloody-lutely.” Mark disentangled himself from his girlfriend and handed back her glass, empty. “Bride or groom?”

“Wha—oh, ha! You’re so adorable.” The fan grasped Mark’s forearm. “Groom, I’m Tom’s cousin.” She thrust her bulging chest towards him and chatted incessantly in his ear while pressing a pen and the napkin into his hands.

Alex felt like a third wheel. She drummed her fingers on the champagne flute. “Bar?” She snatched Lucy’s free hand.

They weaved through the partiers, leaving Mark with Freddie and the woman.

“Talk about boob-a-palooza,” Lucy sniped over her shoulder.

“She’s out of luck if she thinks Mark will be impressed. He’s more of an ass man.”

“TMI, Alex!”