“I won’t stand in your way.”
“You think I’d want any job more than you? More than the life we’d build together? Something meaningful and lasting. A dream career is rewarding, but a home and family with my dreammanis what makes my world go round. Not that we’re getting married or anything but—”
His kiss made her breathless. Sliding from his stool, he pulled her against him, his arms tight around her back, as if he couldn’t get close enough. His kiss was rushed and passionate, then after a moment, softened, and their breathing fell into the same rhythm.
Daffy locked her arms about his waist, sliced open her heart, and poured her love into him.
He stepped…she stepped…until somehow how they tumbled backward and toppled over the rummage sale chair.
Laughing, Gus raised up, his face inches from hers. “You didn’t finish your ice cream.”
“Let it melt.” She grabbed him for another kiss and rolled onto the floor, landing with a thud.
“This was way better than the scene I imagined inMy Life with the Prince.”
“Your life with the prince?” Gus raised up on one elbow. “What’s this?”
“Guess it’s okay to confess now. Back in the day, I kept a diary, well, more like a novel, of what it would be like to be your girlfriend. Only you were Romeo and I was Juliet. I know, not very original. But I was ten.”
“Where is this book?” He glanced toward her bookcase. “I want to read it.”
“Lost. Thrown away in my family’s big purge of ’09.”
He traced his finger along the collar of her jumper. “Then we’ll have to write new chapters. Where everything is real.” Gus kissed her forehead, then her cheek, moving down to her neck, returning to her lips—his kiss seeking…searching…and finally finding her soul.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Gus
They stayed up all night talking, reminiscing, catching up on each other’s lives, asking the hard questions. Children. Pets. Finances. Chore list. All the practical things of joining two lives.
Gus was a talker. Had to get out what bothered him. Even if he talked to himself. He wanted the listener to hear, understand, then offer encouragement or advice, or tell him to get over himself.
“With Coral then Robbi, I didn’t want to talk about issues. I thought it made me appear weak. But I’d fill up and eventually download on my mates. Poor lads at Pub Clemency heard more than they ever wanted. After Coral left, they practically screamed at me to talk to her. But I couldn’t cross that hurdle. Robbi was easier because, well, I knew it was right.”
Daffy, on the other hand, was a brooder. Had to walk away, think about things. Not just about what bothered her, but almost any decision.
As dawn slipped across the dark, sleeping city, Gus rose from the pallet they’d made on the floor, where they stared at the city lights reflected on the ceiling, and offered to make breakfast.
“My omelets are infamous.” He moved about the kitchen as if it were his own.
“For what? Are you going to poison me, Prince Gus? Then say I’m on the lam with the chair?”
He peered inside the refrigerator. “Well that was the plan but it seems you’re void of eggs.”
She came around the island and kissed him. “I have milk and cereal. Get two bowls from that cupboard.”
She set out the milk. He found the spoons. How easily they chatted and moved about. As if they’d been together for years.
“You realize after the ball, we’ll be official,” he’d said, pouring milk over a large pile of toasted oats. “We’re already all over social media, shots of us talking on the quay. So here we go.”
“What was it the Duchess of Sussex said? She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but she thought it would be fair. I’m ready for whatever, in my head anyway. But like I said at the Hand of God, if you stand by me, help me, be with me, I’ll ride whatever storm comes our way.”
The slightly stale cereal was the best he’d ever had. That’s how it was when you shared with someone you love.
While Daffy loaded in the dishwasher, Gus checked his email and read the text messages he’d ignored all night.
“Did I tell you Hemstead resigned?”
