I consider it. “I’ve never really lived anywhere apart from hotels,” I say slowly. “I’ve owned lots of houses.” I pause. “In fact I think I still own houses.” He gives me a despairing look, and I flush slightly. “But I never lived in them. They were investments. I just stopped at hotels because it was easier.”
“That sounds rather rootless.”
“I have less roots than moss,” I say. I pause to consider the tranquil setting, the smell of barbecue smoke in the air, and the sound of voices and laughter coming from the back of the house. “I have enjoyed being in Cornwall, though.” I turn to him. “Do you like it here?”
“Cornwall?” I nod. “Oh yeah, I love Cornwall. I’ve surfed here on lad’s holidays before. It’s a gorgeous coastline.”
“Could you live here, Eli?”
He hesitates, staring at me. “What are you saying?”
I scuff my foot slightly in the gravel. “I’m just saying that if I hypothetically bought a house down here, could you hypothetically see yourself living in it? Not here, obviously.” I look around. “I do actually require a few shops and pubs and people.”
He reaches up and cups my cheek in his big hand and smiles. It’s a tender smile that warms his eyes, and I see it a lot when he looks at me. It always makes me feel humbled, and also slightly wary because there’s obviously a history of mental instability in his family if he’s looking at me like that.
“Cariad, I’d live anywhere that you were,” he says slowly.
“Anywhere?” I ask flippantly, stopping to clear my throat.
“Anywhere,” he promises me. He pauses. “But only if this hypothetical house was bought together with shared money after we’d hypothetically dated for a while beforehand.”
“That hypothetically makes me very happy,” I say gruffly.
“I’m hypothetically glad,” he says solemnly, twisting away, laughing as I pinch his nipples. “Nah, not those, Gid. I need them.”
“What could you possibly need your nipples for?” I say loftily, reaching up to press the doorbell. “Unless you’re considering breastfeeding in the near future.”
He shakes his head. “It isn’t on my ten-year plan, I have to say.”
“You have a ten-year plan?”
“Of course.” He looks at me warily. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“Not me.” I turn at the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door. “I have a ten-minute plan. Anything after that smacks of too much structure.”
“You’re like a thirty-nine-year-old toddler,” he says wonderingly. “You’ll need a nap soon and a short stay on the naughty step.”
The door swings open before I can reply, and Oz peers out. “Afternoon, sex addicts.”
Eli groans, and I shake my head. “Do you live here now too? This place gets more like a commune every day.”
“If I lived here I’d be forced to murder Niall,” he says smartly. “And Milo wouldn’t talk to me for a while.”
“How long?” Eli asks.
Oz stops to consider it. “Probably a couple of days, I’d say. Or just until he realised how peaceful and tidy it is without him.”
He stands back. “Welcome to not my home,” he says, throwing his arm out like an estate agent. “We’re in the back.”
“Where’s your daughter?” Eli asks.
“She’s with my mum,” Oz says happily. “She met a bloke on a cruise a few months ago and he’s brought her down here for the weekend. They’ve taken Cora to Newquay.”
“Well, I suppose someone has to.” I shudder slightly at the thought.
He laughs. “Cora will love it. Tacky shops, sand and sea and endless ‘e’ numbers.” He pauses. “We do need to move this along, though. Silas and I are here to drink and eat loads and then it’s back to the house for us so we can have incredibly noisy sex without our daughter shouting for a new nappy.”
Eli laughs. We wander down the hall, and I smile and shake my head. “Purple.”
