Undulate (Alchemy, #2)

by Elodie Hart

‘I gave Ruth my credit card,’ he admits as he strokes my bottom a little more lasciviously through my dress than the occasion warrants. ‘She’s done an amazing job. And what is it with everyone questioning my coolness, anyway? I’m very cool. I have a sexy, much younger girlfriend. I’d say that’s pretty fucking cool.’ I drag my face away from his neck so I can give him one of my most dazzling grins. ‘You really do. And it really is.’

I’m glad Zach has girls. Is that bad? If they were little boys, I’m not sure how good I’d be with them. But Nancy and Stella make it easy. They’re super cute, and great company, and pretty sophisticated, if you ask me. To be honest, we share a worrying amount of interests. You know, like skincare and Taylor. Ooh, on that note, I got Stella a Taylor’s Version sweatshirt like mine and then, because I couldn’t resist, I got a mini one for Nancy, too. They’re going to flip when they see them later.

‘I love you,’ he says, his voice almost breaking with emotion on the word love, before crashing his lips against mine.

I unfold the thick cream paper and leaf through to the final page as I stare in disbelief at her oft-read, but newly significant, words. Sometimes, you don’t understand what’s been written in the stars until those same stars have served their prophecy up to you. At some point, my darling, when you’re ready, I’ll send you a new love, she wrote. She’ll be amazing. Nothing like me—obviously—because I’m a one-off. In fact, I’m going to find someone so different from me that she’ll make your head spin. But I have a feeling she’ll still leave unfinished

cups of tea everywhere and sing the whole fucking time and drive you up the wall. Because I’m mean like that. You didn’t think I’d leave you in peace, did you? Although she will be seriously stunning—just like me :). Because I’m not that mean. And you’re welcome. Yours forever. In this life and the next. Claire xx

He puts a knee on the bed. ‘Hands and knees.’ I raise an eyebrow. ‘Make me.’ ‘Seriously, you don’t want me to make you,’ he says, climbing up. I sigh with happiness as he crawls between my legs. ‘Over you go,’ he says, wedging an arm around me and flipping me unceremoniously onto my stomach before giving me a resounding slap on the arse. ‘Ouch,’ I complain. ‘That would be more convincing if you weren’t wiggling that little arse of yours straight at my dick,’ he says. Was I? Oops.

‘Not a chance, sweetheart,’ he whispers in my ear. ‘We’re only getting started. I swear to God I’m going to find a way to get you to utter that immortal word in this bed one day.’ ‘What word is that?’ I wonder aloud. He puts his lips to my ear. ‘Spreadsheet.’

Our bereavement counsellor doesn’t think so. She’s suggested that the safety cues Nancy’s picked up from seeing her father happy and grounded and relaxed have been sufficient to activate her parasympathetic nervous system more easily. That’s an explanation I can get behind, because I know I also sleep far, far better when Maddy’s in my arms. What she’s given me is the furthest thing from oblivion. Instead, she’s given me the gift of consciousness. Of being able to stay present and open to the abundance life has to offer. I’ll never be able to thank her. And I’ll never stop trying.