Almost Forever: An emotional debut perfect for fans of Jojo Moyes. Laura Danks

morning. I can see the sun glowing outside the window, even if its brightness is dimmed by the still-drawn curtains. The bedroom is too dark to put every little detail into focus, but when I lift my hand in front of my nose, the ring on my finger shines in all its beauty, just for me.

      I sigh in the quiet of the morning light, and then turn to Paul, planning to snuggle up with him until the alarm goes off, and the frenzy of the day commences.

      ‘Paul?’ I call out for him when I realise he isn’t there. I stretch my hand to his empty side of the bed and feel the warmth of his body that’s still lingering under the covers.

      ‘Paul?!’ I call again, propping myself up with a frown. No answer.

      An unexpected anxiety fills my chest so I turn my lamp on and look around the room. Paul is nowhere to be seen. ‘The shower …’ I whisper when I hear the water running and exhale the worry that so quickly took hold of my heart. ‘You need to calm down,’ I tell myself, staring at the closed door, longing for the man behind it.

      Maybe, I should just join him under the hot steamy shower, I think with a long, dreamy sigh before leaning back against my pillow, my movements lazy and slow. Unfortunately, there is no time for that, I remind myself, thinking of the self-imposed, manic schedule for the day ahead.

      ‘Today is my wedding day,’ I say out loud as the reality of it becomes suddenly, incredibly real. ‘Oh my!’ I squeal, pressing my face into the pillow, but even that isn’t enough to smother the giggles that are bursting out of my throat in little fits of joy.

      My heart is thumping inside my chest and an exhilarating sense of excitement is bubbling into my stomach. When I regain some control over my pulse, I roll onto my back.

      ‘Mrs FitzRoy,’ I say, pulling the duvet all the way to my chin – and at those words, a shiver runs pleasantly down my spine as my smile widens.

      Too many emotions are storming inside me and I need a minute to collect myself, so I stare at the ceiling, taking deep breaths, trying to concentrate on my diaphragm moving slowly up and down; but my thoughts start to wander somewhere out of the boundaries of my control, and I’m soon lost in a world of exquisite dreams.

      Stretching languidly, I think of the venue in Vegas we’ve chosen for our ceremony, and while I’m still lazily sprawled in bed, it’s crazy to imagine that we are due to fly to the States in just a few hours. I shake my head at the madness of it but the smile stays firmly on my lips.

      We picked an outdoor location, decided that we wanted an evening service, so when we landed on The Grove’s website, we both knew it was just perfect.

      An oasis in the desert, far away from the lights of the Strip and the bustle of the casinos – the venue is incredibly beautiful. I can so easily picture the two of us standing in the middle of the charming orchard of century-old almond trees, their branches lit up by a thousand fairy lights, huddling around us with their protective embrace.

      I’ll look into Paul’s eyes as we exchange promises of eternal love under a magical canopy of twinkling stars, at the stroke of midnight.

      I bite down on my trembling lower lip and my heart is literally bursting inside my chest at the thought that before today is over, I’ll marry the man I love.

      ‘I’m getting married today,’ I whisper suddenly feeling a surge of panic bubbling into my throat. ‘Stop it! You’re just being irrational,’ I tell myself when my mouth goes dry and my heart starts beating with irregular thumps. I swallow. I’ve known Paul since we were children, and loved him for just as long. We moved in together six months ago, and in all honesty, our life won’t change much after we say ‘I do’, so why does it feel as if we are rushing in?

      ‘Maybe because you just got engaged, that’s why!’ I tell myself, rolling my eyes at the reckless decision I made when Paul proposed, while in Paris, only a couple of days ago.

      I cover my blushing cheeks with my hands shaking at the thought that I’ve been the one suggesting we elope instead of just doing it the traditional way. ‘This is crazy,’ I mutter shaking my head again, wondering if I’ve completely lost my mind.

      ‘Good morning, beautiful,’ Paul says, looking at me with a smile as he walks back into the bedroom. With just a towel wrapped around his waist, hanging low on his hips, he is a glorious sight, and when my eyes meet his, all my doubts melt away like ice cream on a sunny day, sweet and sticky. My hesitations are immediately replaced with the familiar sense of belonging that Paul always inspired in me, ever since the very first time we met.

      I smile back thinking: Yes, I’ve totally lost my mind and yes, I am crazy … crazy for him!

      ‘Today I’m going to marry the most handsome bachelor in London,’ I say with a flirty look. I’m trying to be playful to lessen the solemnity of my emotions while I watch him walking towards me. The fear is now gone and my whole being is just pulsing with love and excitement.

      ‘I knew you just wanted me for my body! My mother warned me about women like you,’ he says with an offended tone and a raise of an eyebrow; but I can see the ghost of a cheeky smile dancing on his lips. I want to run to him and kiss him until we are both out of breath but, feigning complete indifference to his grimace, I agree with him instead. ‘Absolutely! You’ll be my trophy husband.’

      He sighs, then flashes me a grin. What now? I wonder as I watch him walking with an exaggerated swagger to the oversized mirror propped against the brick wall. He spends a few seconds inspecting himself, taking his time to admire his reflection, even flexing his biceps in an overdramatic, macho way that doesn’t suit him.

      ‘I can totally see your point, woman,’ he announces eventually, throwing a glance back at me and I just have to giggle.

      He turns to stare at me, then walks back to the bed and comes to sit next to me. His eyes are soft now but I know him well enough to spot tension in his shoulders.

      I stop laughing immediately and an involuntary loud sigh leaves my lips. The emotions inside me are bouncing up and down in my chest again. He can see I’m struggling to keep them under control.

      ‘How do you feel about getting hitched?’ His tone is easy and relaxed but his expression has turned serious.

      ‘A little nervous …’ I admit, slightly embarrassed.

      ‘Cold feet, Miss Willson?’ He lowers his lips to mine. His wet hair drips onto my skin and I start to shiver. ‘Should I be worried that you’ll run off before I get the chance to say “I do”?’ he whispers tenderly. Then, in a playful move, he softly pinches my toes, still tucked under the covers.

      ‘Of course, not,’ I answer, wiggling them away from him as I sit up against the headboard. We are just inches apart and I can feel a bubble of love forming around us.

      ‘Sure?’ His eyes are careful as if trying to read my thoughts.

      ‘Totally,’ I tell him, covering his hand with mine. ‘I won’t run,’ I promise, but the concern in his eyes is still there.

      He takes a deep breath. ‘You know we don’t have to do it this way, right? We don’t need to rush things. We don’t have to elope to Vegas – I’m not going anywhere. You know we can still call this off, make new plans.’ There is frustration in the kiss he places on my forehead, but I’m not sure why. ‘We can wait a little longer. We could get married next spring in Cambridge, or maybe next summer, in France. Have a ceremony in a real chapel, with family and friends around us, even have a reception with guests, who are not complete strangers. We could just settle for the usual.’ He floats the idea, then pauses for a while to let his words sink in.

      ‘No.’ My conviction is supported by the determined tone in my voice. ‘I want to marry you tonight, Paul, I really do and I know it’s crazy to organise a wedding in three days and I know we will have to rush around like lunatics but that’s exactly what I want. My heart rules today and I don’t care about planning. I don’t care about being careful; all I care about is becoming your wife.’

      I