It was a sunny morning when Max awoke, the light dappling across the bedroom floor and creeping towards them, partially shaded by the heavy drapes. A window was open and a fresh morning breeze blew gently across the room. Light fell on her sleeping face. Without makeup and the sharp and lively acuity with which she cloaked herself when awake, he thought she looked so young and innocent. So easy to hurt. So trusting, as she curled in next to his body.

Lying on his side, he watched her, letting her sleep on, unwilling to disturb her rest. It was something he often did, allowing himself the luxury to wonder at how lucky he had been to win her.

She stirred, stretching sleepy kitten-like, wiggling her nose and rubbing at her eyes. He could imagine her as a very little girl. She probably hadn't really changed that much.

"What are you looking at?" She addressed him huskily, trying to focus. "Was I drooling? Snoring?" she asked.

Max shook his head, smiling. "No."

Uma looked suspicious. "Then what were you looking at?"

He reached out a hand, to brush a stray lock of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear. "I was looking at how beautiful you are and thinking myself quite the luckiest chap in the world, actually."

"You were not!"

"True. I was actually wondering if you would even wake up if I stuck it in..." He pulled her closer, indicating his morning hard on, rubbing it crudely along her leg. She wriggled away.

"Yuk! Put that away! That's only a step away from necrophilia, you pervert, do you know that...? "But oddly enough she reached out and fondled it anyway, making approving noises. He rolled back and left her to it, too lazy to do much other than enjoy the sensation.

Uma moved on top of him. "Were you really looking at me while I was sleeping? Do you do that a lot?"

He squinted at her. "Put a bit more elbow grease into that, will you? Yeah, I do. Every time I wake up before you. It's the only bloody time your mouth's shut. I enjoy the peace and quiet..." he teased.

She giggled. "You big softie! You know, I always do that as well when you're sleeping. But I must say, you are usually snoring..."

"Don't spare my feelings..." he grunted, rubbing his stubble. "Carry on..."

"...Well, you look so cute when you're asleep with your hair all mussy, like a hairy little boy..." she continued.

"I meant  carry on down there...! " He replaced her hand, curling his own round hers, trapping his engorged member in her fingers and tightening. "Hairy little boy...doesn't sound very appealing. I can't imagine anything less attractive. I think I get the best deal..."

"What do I look like?" she asked breathily, clearly fishing for a compliment.

"Like a girl. With mussy hair. Infinitely more desirable in a man's bed than a hairy little boy...unless you're Paul or Jeff, that is..."

"Be serious! You were almost romantic then. Before you remembered your willy..."

He chuckled, running his fingers softly down her cheek. "You are the most beautiful girl in the world. I love you more than I can put into words. Now, do what good girls do...and give Willy some welly..."

"You are so disgusting! Haven't you got a better chat up line than that? Where's the mystique? Can you imagine your namesake, Maximus, talking to a woman like that?"

Max snorted. "He's a man. If he doesn't say it, he'll bloody well be thinking it, you can lay odds on it. So, you want mystique? Something a little spontaneous? How's about this for mystique..."

As easily as if she was made of air, he flipped her onto her back and slid over her. "That your best shot?" she teased.

"Not at all, fair demoiselle...however, this is..."

She demurred no further.

"...I was not drunk. Well, only slightly inebriated, anyway. Just enough to be charming and witty, not too much. I remember everything..." Irene insisted as she took a walk after breakfast with Caz around the spacious grounds of the country hotel where most of the guests had stayed the night.

Caz's lugubrious expression made it quite evident what he thought of her protestations. "Remember everything? Not likely, darling. Do you remember forcefully pushing a young bridesmaid out of the way when the bouquet was tossed in your general direction? Was that one of your more charming moments? Or when you heckled Charlie as he gave his farewell thank you speech, telling him to drop his trousers and make everyone's night? I suppose that falls under 'witty' banter?"

"I did no such thing!"

"Did too. Uma sank beneath the table in shame. Which shows the true extent of your insanity. That girl is more than capable of outrageous behaviour so for her to be embarrassed..."

"You and Max were just as bad. When you did that Cockney medley....'My old man's a dustman&ldots;?' Where the hell did that come from?"

"Max did rather well with 'I'm getting married in the morning', I thought..." Caz observed.

"Uma didn't seem to think so. She crawled under the table then as well. But I got the impression it wasn't the fact that Max was singing and dancing and making an utter tit of himself that was the main problem..."

Caz nodded in agreement. "Me too. I think it was more the mention of the word 'marriage'. You think she's running scared after the Cullen episode? I'd like to toe-cap that little Fenian leprechaun in o the middle of next week for what he put her through..."

"You'd have to toe-cap yourself while you were at it, lover, and that is somewhat more difficult. You're certainly not one to talk about marital fidelity..."

"I am not the man at issue here. This is my daughter we're talking about. I reserve the right to be an unreasonable father in this case," Caz added drily.

"Can't say I disagree. Here was a girl who wanted to be a good wife and mother and now she's frightened of making another mistake! It's tragic," Irene commented with a dramatic sigh.

"You can see her point, though. Skinner's not exactly Prince Charming. I bet he can be a real handful," Caz pointed out.

Irene snorted. "Two handfuls, definitely, especially for a girl her size..."

Caz groaned. "Do you think about anything else but sex?"

"Do you?" she sniggered.

He shrugged his shoulders. "On occasions. And I most certainly do not want to conjure up unwanted images of Skinner and my delicate little flower getting it on...I just hope he treats her right..."

Irene snuggled up against his arm. "He will. I know men. He's the kind who's all bluster outwardly but a big pussy cat at home. He'll do anything for her. Besotted, he is. And so in need of love. Uma will roll him up and give him the ride of his life. I do believe, she has met her match, and in the fulness of time, they'll be breeding little Skinner sprogs all over the place..."

"Not if she refuses to deal with marriage again, she won't. Skinner won't be interested in partnerships. He's old school. My name, my children, my wife..."

Irene gave him a knowing look. "She'll come round. Just give her time. As long as he doesn't rush her into anything..."

At that moment, as they were approaching the rear of the house, coming out of a shady tree-lined pathway onto the back lawns, a loud noise rudely breaking into the bucolic peace brought them up short.

Irene clapped a hand to her heart. "Good lord! What in heaven's name was that?"

It rang out a second time, a long row groan, like an animal in its death throes. Almost immediately on its tail came another sound, a shrill breathy cry, followed by a husky-voiced declaration: "Oh God..Oh God...Oh Maxxxxxxxxxxxxieeee!!!!!!"

Caz and Irene looked at each other and burst out laughing. "Sunday late morning and they haven't even finished screwing yet? Don't they know they stop serving breakfast at 10:30?"

"Youth!" Irene added with an emphatic, clearly pejorative, flourish. "I mean, wake up sex is one thing, but who is mad enough to miss a full English breakfast? That's the joy of maturity, babes. They still have a lot to learn..."

"...Not to mention that, once fortified with a plate of eggs, bacon, bangers and black pudding -not to mention mushrooms, tomatoes and a few kidneys- all washed down with a pot of Darjeeling and a mountain of toast and marmalade, a man is truly ready to perform. What do you say to a little session in the sheets, milady? It will do wonders for the last vestiges of your hangover..."

Irene clapped her hands in glee. "Two minds with but a single thought! We are made for each other, darling! And we cannot be outdone by the children, now, can we? Last one to the room's a rotten egg...!"

Linking arms, they headed for the entrance and the stairs, an evident skip in both their steps at the prospect of what was to come...

"...I think we missed breakfast," Max muttered as he tried to focus on the digital display of the bedside clock. Sniffing, he rummaged around on the table for his glasses."..There was a room service menu here somewhere...I'm bloody famished..."

Uma found the room directory. "Says here they do a Sunday champagne brunch from 11:30. Mmmm...mimosas...! Let's get showered and changed and hit the buffet, shall we?"

Max rubbed at his stubble. "More champagne? How's your head? Surely you're not up for more drinking?"

"Hair of the dog, matey. Best remedy. Wash down a few Galway Bay oysters and you'll be as right as rain. Come on, tiger, get your bloomin' arse moving..."

...Shortly afterwards, brushed up and dressed to kill, Uma and Max entered the hotel dining room. Max gave his unctuous face to all the old ladies and eyed up all the young ones until Uma kicked his leg and told him to behave. They took their seats, accepted mimosas and smiled benignly at each other.

"To us!" he said as he clinked his glass against hers. "And, to our wedding, which I hope will be following on fairly swiftly from this one..."

Uma took a gulp of her drink, and proceeded to choke, spilling most of it on the tablecloth, frantically scrabbling for her napkin to mop up the residue. Max jumped up. waving away the waitress to tend to her himself, crouching down beside her to dab at her lap while she coughed and fought to regain her composure.

"Why don't you just tell me, Uma?" he whispered. "I'm not such an ogre that I can't be reasonable, you know?" He looked up at her, with those little boy green eyes, fingering her hand gently. She sniffed and frowned, not entirely sure what he meant, but beginning to wonder if he was indeed working it out.

"Tell you what?" She decided to stall for time.

"Tell me, that you don't want to marry me and have been trying to find some way of getting out of it ever since we got here..." Max gave her a rueful look then  stood up and returned to his seat.

They stared at each other over the table. Uma buried her face in her hands.

"It's not what you think!" she protested.

"And what would that be?" he insisted.

She sighed deeply. "It's not that I don't want to be with you. I want that more than anything in the world. I just...I don't want to get married again. Ever. I can't bear the thought of it. I don't want you to be my second husband! I want you to be my first and only love! I don't believe in marriage anymore. It's just a stupid piece of paper that means absolutely nothing. So why can't we just stay as we are? And not tempt fate...?" she added, revealing her real fear as her voice died away.

He gave her a knowing smile, reaching for her hand again. "That wasn't so hard, was it? So, do you fancy a dozen oysters?"

Uma stared at him. "Is that all you're going to say?" she gasped out.

He chuckled. "Look, any fool could see - even one as thick-skinned as I am - that after the trauma of your marriage and divorce, not to mention a few of the other little side issues that came out of the recent debacle in the law courts - that you would not be too kindly disposed towards the institution of marriage at the present time. I myself took years to warm to the idea after I extricated myself from the talons of the bride of Dracula...I can perfectly understand that you don't wish to marry me at the moment. Nor do I take it as a rejection of yours truly. For what sane woman would reject me?"

"Thought you said I was insane?" Uma mumbled, still finding his calm acceptance a little hard to accept.

"Sane or insane, it makes no matter. In females it amounts to much the same thing," Max quipped. "But consider this. If marriage is just a little piece of paper and it means absolutely nothing - then why blame poor old marriage for all the bad times you had with Murphy et al? Frankly, they were nothing to do with marriage. Murphy hardly qualifies as being your normal husband, now, does he?"

"It's not just about Cullen..."

He cut her off, not wishing for the subject of Terry Thorne to be raised. That was always more difficult than Murphy. "Nevertheless, give it some thought. And I am sure, in the fullness of time, you will come round to my way of thinking..."

"...Which is?"

"That we will get married and live happily ever after some time in the not-too-distant future when you have had time to adjust to the idea that Max Skinner inevitable gets what he wants. And you will love it..."

"Max, but...!"

"Oh do give it a rest! My belly thinks my throat's been cut. I can't possibly discuss romance until I've eaten and I recommend the same for you. One day at a time, love. Stop acting like you're the dying swan. Eat up your dinner, enjoy your holiday and next week, we fly back to California and get on with our lives. Tomorrow, my dear Scarlett O'Hara, is another day...!"

Uma sat there for a while thinking about what he said while Max set to work on a plate of fresh oysters. Then: "You're a bit like Rhett Butler, you know. A real smug smarty pants..."

"Well, there you go. Yet another reason to love me. Pass the Tabasco, will you?"

"I don't have to rush into anything, you say?"

"Whenever you're ready, my dear."

"And you won't start pushing and trying to change my mind?"

Max noisily snaffled back an oyster, wiped his mouth and took a sip of champagne. "Well, I can't promise that. I'm a man. You are the prey in my sights. You can't expect me not to go hunting now and again. I'll let you have a little flight of freedom first, but I can promise you without a doubt, that before long you'll be waltzing up that aisle and signing Mrs. Skinner with relish on our joint Platinum card receipts..."

"You are so bloody sure of yourself...!"

"Are you going to eat those oysters or can I?"

"Get off my oysters! I hate to say it, but I think your tactics are very clever. I just thought I'd say that."

"Thank you," Max replied and asked for a refill of champagne. He was definitely playing this one cool.

Uma forked an oyster,  playing with it a while in the annoying way she had with food. "I wish we'd had this conversation before. I feel so much better now. I was making it into a drama in my head and it isn't like that, is it? You just don't take any notice and in the end you wear me down. I suppose I should be annoyed but actually, I rather like it. I know you are going to simply blow away all my objections. Take away all the decision-making. What a relief! And you're right about going back to the Big Sur, too. I'm ready to face everyone now.  A bit of distance makes all the difference. Actually I'm really looking forward to it. Just one thing, though..."

"Anything, precious..."

"Can we keep the London pad?"

"Definitely, my dear."

She bit her lip and thought some more. "Oh, one other thing?"

"Dear heart...?" Max simpered.

"Can I have a platinum card now?"

"Oh no! No, no, no, no.no...The terms of the deal are very specific. Wedding ring first. Then access to Maxie's millions..."

"That's very mercenary, Max...Do you think I am the kind of woman to sell herself for great wealth?"

"Correct. For all your protestations to the contrary, I believe there is a very shallow streak running through you that responds to such inducements. It is the only way in which you show real logic. There is no question of you standing on some inane principle and cutting off your nose to spite your face. You will come round in the end.  It's one of your saving graces, really..."

Uma wiggled her nose but did not disagree, finally giving into her hunger pangs and clearing the dozen oysters with alarming speed. 

Just then, her parents wandered into the dining room. Max held up a hand and called them over, muttering, "Don;t make it obvious but take a gander at their mutual orgasmic rosy glow. You think they just had a jump?"

The answer to his question was provided straight away. By Caz himself. "Oysters? Yummy! Just what I need after that session...Waiter, bring us a couple of dozen more and two glasses of Guinness? I need the iron as well...Christ, your mother's as hot in bed as she was twenty years ago..."

For the second time that lunch, Uma buried her head in her hands, Max laughed heartily. Irene feigned shock at Caz's comment - and a grand time was had by all....