‘My god, where were you?’
‘Uh?’
She pushes herself up to stare into his eyes through a curtain of messy hair. ‘You could have let me in on your fantasy! What part of Charland were you having fun in? And what’s her name?’
‘No, I wasn’t… I was… Leave me alone.’
He raises his hand to turn her face away and can’t help but smile when she fends him off with a chortle.
She’s a stunning picture he wishes he could paint. Her hazel eyes, flawless masterpieces. Her bow-shaped lips, redder than usual from the kissing. Her freckled turned-up nose that she blames for looking younger than she is. Charles truly wishes he had the skills to depict her feline grace, the velvet feel of her skin and the inherent kindness she exudes when they’re alone. But he would never do her justice. Elsy is gorgeous. She’s also feisty, driven, hilarious, and Charles doesn’t deserve her. But he’s coping with a great deal of hassle he doesn’t deserve either. It’s only fair that Elsy Buchanan decided to stick with him, from the day they broke up, for worse more often than better, through dissociative episodes and surges of anxiety. To adore and to cherish him, until true love do them part.
Elsy eventually rolls on her back next to him. She grabs the TVremote on his bedside table, as well as a pack of tissues that she tosses onto his chest. Charles takes off the condom, wipes himself and arranges the pillows behind them against the headboard.
‘How predictable…’
Elsy grumbles at the screen where Liverpool is leading against Norwich City three nil after thirty-two minutes.
She doesn’t really care about Norwich City Football Club. All she cares about when it comes to the Premier League is the top teams losing and underdogs pulling off miracle performances. She hardly ever gets satisfaction.
‘You’ll never guess what Catriona did earlier.’
‘Tell me.’
‘She— Come on!!’ Elsy sits up straighter when a player takes a shot, only to drop back against Charles because Liverpool’s goalkeeper catches the ball without batting an eyelid. ‘She showed me the castles she’s selected as potential venues.’
Charles jumps, hit by a mental cold shower that extinguishes the lasting effects of his orgasm. ‘She did what?’
Catriona is Elsy’s mother, but she demands to be called by her name, refusing to be anyone’s property. She’s a stone-cold matriarch who becomes blissful and mumsy whenever Charles is involved. And who appears to be planning their wedding.
‘She summoned me to her study, five tabs open on her computer, and she— Oi! Don’t start pen-clicking!’ Elsy grips Charles’ neck to shake him out of his sudden panic. ‘I laughed it off.’
‘She must have loved that…’
‘I said I won’t get married until I’m twenty-five, and she admitted to getting carried away. I’m just giving you a heads-up in case she talks about castles with your mother at teatime. We’re fine, don’t worry.’
The lump in Charles’ throat shrinks.
Elsy is right. They’re fine. They have a couple of years before the Buchanan clan gets frustrated by the lack of a ring on her finger.
Before having to confess that they don’t intend to merge their families’ wealth and produce an army of little Ledwells.
They were eighteen when Elsy broke up with Charles, on the terrace of a coffee shop. In a second, she went from delighting in the Oreo flavour of their shared milkshake to thrusting the glass aside with a solemn ‘We need to talk.’
She was bored, eager to broaden her sexual horizons and no longer in love with him.
Charles had never experienced boredom by her side. He had never looked at another girl wondering what it would be like to touch the hidden parts of her skin. Never defined the nature of his feelings for Elsy.
He loved that they were a team on all fronts. He loved how she brought peace and chaos into his life, alternately, depending on his needs. He loved the bubble she had created around him. He loved her, in many ways.
When Elsy fell silent, she took his hand, probably concerned about his impending reaction. Charles waited, expecting his heart to break into pieces he could never reassemble – what he presumed being dumped out of the blue should feel like.
He waited, imagining himself outside their bubble, and his heart didn’t crack, but a realisation curdled his blood.
‘So you won’t come to my grandfather’s birthday party…’
Elsy narrowed her eyes, visibly bemused by his priorities, but she was quick to placate him. ‘I can still come as your date. We’ll make our breakup official next week.’
‘Oh, good.’
