My heart rate picks up as the clock ticks past ten thirty. I’m about to collapse in a heap when I hear the slam of a car door over the sound of the rain. I peek out the window in time to see Greer coming through the gate. I have just enough time to dart into the second bedroom and push the door almost closed before I hear the soft fall of her bare feet on the stairs and then a gasp as she takes in the bed and the painting.
“You came,” I whisper from the bedroom doorway, and she spins around.
“Yes.” She sounds the way I feel. Unsure. Hopeful. And more than a little scared.
“Tell me what you need, Greer. What you need to hear from me, what you need me to do, to show you I meant what I said.”
“Tell me the truth. Tell meyourtruth.”
“My truth? My truth is I’ve loved you since I hauled that damn red suitcase off the carousel. But I didn’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you. The problem is, I no longer care. I want you. I need you. And I’ll do anything you ask to earn you.”
Tears are streaming down her cheeks, mixing with the rain and the mascara leaving tracks on her beautiful skin.
“You don’t need to do anything to earn me, Josh. Just love me.”
“Oh, Flo. That I can do. That’s the easiest thing I’ll ever have to do.” There’s so much more I want to say, but it will have to wait.
Because then she’s in my arms, and I realise I’m crying too. She’s shaking with cold, having been caught in today’s wild summer storm, so I take her into the brand-new ensuite bathroom.
“Do you think maybe it’s time to christen the amazing shower my very clever architect specified for this incredible bathroom?”
“Specified? Listen to you using all the technical architecture words. You were listening, after all.”
“I’ve listened to every word you’ve ever said to me, Flo. And a fair few you haven’t.” I pull her jacket off her shoulders and turn her around to unzip the shift dress she’s wearing under it before turning the hot water on.
“I think I should probably rectify that.” She presses her cold, wet hands against my cheeks and looks deep into my eyes. “I love you, Josh. I’ve loved you as long as I can remember.”
It’s not until she says those words I realise there’s been a corner of my soul I’ve been holding together with hope and an iron grip. Now I can let it loose, and I finally feel like the hollow space inside me is full. Of love and warmth and the smell of cinnamon scrolls.
I can’t get words past the mass of love and relief in my throat, so I drop my lips to hers and continue to strip her clothes. Not kissing, just pressing. Lips to lips. Breath to breath.
As her knickers slip down her thighs, I realise she’s been undressing me too, and finally, we’re both naked, standing under a luscious cascade of water from jets up and down the wall and along the ceiling.
I thank the universe Greer had the presence of mind to install a seating shelf because I’m quaking with the need to be inside her. Sitting down, I pull her to straddle my lap and thrust inside her without preamble.
Greer gasps. “Condom.”
But I can’t bear the thought of anything being between us.
“Not today. Just this once. I need to feel you. Just you.”
“I’m not on protection.”
“Then we’re in the lap of the gods.”
“Yes,” she whispers. “I am.” And I smile against her lips as she starts to rock. Slow, steady movements. A rhythm that croonsmine, mine, mine, until we come, one following the other, although I’m not sure who goes first.
It’s hours before I finally come back to earth, curled up with Greer in our new bed, listening to the rain batter windows with another freak summer storm.
“What is it with this house and storms?” Greer asks, running her fingers up and down my chest and belly.
“Isn’t rain supposed to mean good luck?” I’m sure I heard that somewhere.
“In that case, it worked.”
We’re silent again for a time. A comfortable silence, full of the promise that bit by bit, drip by drip, our thoughts and our feelings and our dreams will be told. But there’s no rush.
Eventually, I start.
