Chapter Five

Peter slowly span them round and round on Carla's swivel chair as she curled up in his lap, her coat slung round them both to keep them warm. She had always felt closest to him at these times, she felt that after sex, her and Peter achieved a level of intimacy she had never had with anyone else. She nuzzled her head into his neck, taking in the events of the night as she traced her finger around the outline of his tattoos.

"I am absolutely dreading our awkward encounter with Daniel," Peter broke the silence.

"Daniel? Oh he'll be fine, it's Tracey I'm petrified of. And Michelle come to think of it. She's going to be fuming."

"Michelle?" Peter asked, surprised. He had always got on so well with Carla's best friend.

"She'll never forgive you for Tina."

"She forgave you for Ali didn't she?"

"That's totally different."

"Is it now? You know you've slept with both her brothers, her fiancé and her son now?"

"Ok, ok let's just enjoy this for five minutes and not talk about any of that."

"Gladly," he laughed and pressed his lips to her forehead.

"We should face facts though, no one's going to be over the moon about this."

"I know," he sighed.

"But at least it won't be as bad as last time round."

"No Frank exposing us, no Stella ranting at us in the street-"

"And we've got Si on board this time, we know that for sure."

"If we're going to send the gossip mill into over drive we might as well go all out, right?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she pushed herself up so she was staring straight at him and he abruptly stopped spinning the chair.

"Ok so this might sound a little crazy, but bear with me."

"Okay…" she replied slowly, intrigued by what he was about to suggest.

"I've still got our wedding rings, why don't we get married again?"

"Remarry? Oh yeah sure," Carla laughed.

"I'm serious, we could do it all again, properly this time?"

"Properly? As opposed to last time?"

"Yeah."

Carla slowly removed herself from his lap, setting herself down crossed legged on her desk instead, she pulled her coat with her and draped it over herself to cover her modesty.

"What?" he asked innocently, confused by her sudden change in mood.

"I sunk £50,000 into that wedding and you don't think we did it properly?" she stared down at him expectantly.

"Oh come on," Peter reached for his trousers on the floor to cover his own modesty, suddenly feeling very naked under her angry eye. "The massive guest list, the morning suits, that giant wedding dress-"

"Oi, Hayley made that."

"It was very nice love, but it was flaming massive. We had Whitney Houston as our first dance, talk about cliché. My dad and Deirdre couldn't even make it, all of the family you have now weren't there. It became this monster that wasn't us."

"Well what would you do?"

"What would I do?"

"Yeah, go on. If I did it all wrong, then what's the right way to do it."

"Alright then, I would book a beautiful but small hotel near where I grew up in Scotland. Only invite close family, spend the money on amazing food and wine to treat those people we actually care about. We're not new to this, we don't need to throw a bouquet, we don't need them suits with the tails or big white dresses. We can organise this how we want, screw those ridiculous traditions, they never worked out for us anyway."

"You've actually thought about this," Carla's anger subsided.

"Yes, I have."

"So, go on then, no cliché of Whitney Houston, what would you pick for our first dance?"

"Laid by James," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Laid?" Carla threw her head back and laughed, a full-throated cackle that he hadn't heard in so long. "Peter we can't have that!"

"Why not?"

"It's about the sex life of a dysfunctional couple, I am not dancing to that with you, in front of Roy Cropper."

"At least it's not a cliché like I Have Nothing was."

"There must be something that's not a total cliché that also doesn't mention our sex life."

"What about Couldn't Love You More?"

"Bit boring, what about Make You Feel My Love?"

"You're still in cliché territory love, what about that song January that I sang to you?"

"I told you then, I hate January."

"You know what always reminds me of you?" Peter smiled up at her.

"What?"

He reached over the desk and picked up his phone, searching through it for something she couldn't see. He finally found what he was looking for and pressed play, popping his phone back onto the desk, letting his song fill the room through the tinny speakers on his phone.

"Is this that Tommy McLain song?"

"Before I Grow Too Old, yeah."

"Doesn't it say something about kissing all the pretty girls?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well yeah, but I think we've established that I already did that."

"Not funny."

"This song was on that Jukebox at Susie's in LA, it reminds me of all those nights sat on the terrace, staring out at the sea, eating that rabbit food you get out there. Lying in that hammock with you barely wearing anything, all tanned and beautiful."

"I loved that hammock," she smiled fondly at the memory.

"Well then, let's get married again and dance to it at our wedding."

She looked down at his suspiciously. He seemed so much more confident in himself now, she always felt like she had railroaded him into the marriage last time, but he had so much conviction this time. The man looking hopefully up at her now was not the man that cheated on her, this was the man that had once rescued her from Frank, from alcohol, from herself.

"Alright then," she smiled. "Let's do it."

"Really?" he replied disbelieving.

"Really," she nodded, clambering back down onto him and sending her lips crashing against his.

"Did we just get engaged?" he pulled away from her, looking into her big green eyes.

"I think we might've done," she laughed.

He pulled her in for a hug as their bodies melted into each other, he began to slowly spin the chair round again as the tinny sound of their new first dance song filled the office.