Gavin was perched on the edge of the sofa, his hair tousled from another restless night, and seemed oblivious to her presence. She was almost there, almost close enough to readthe words when he sensed her and in one sharp, practised movement slammed the laptop closed.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked, keeping her tone light as she leaned forwards to drape her arms over his shoulders, and nuzzle his neck.
‘Nothing.’
He jerked away, Jules’s teeth snagging hard against her bottom lip with the suddenness of it.
‘Ouch!’ she said, tasting blood, hand flying to her mouth.
‘Sorry, baby,’ he said, twisting to look at her, ‘but you really shouldn’t creep up on me like that. Made me jump. You okay?’
She nodded half-heartedly, but in reality, she wanted to cry.
He reached up and pressed his index finger against her lip which felt as if it was beginning to swell.
‘Poor angel. Come and sit here.’ He patted the cushion next to him. ‘I’ll get some ice.’
He pressed her down gently and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. He was like that, so caring, so kind. If only he could trust her with whatever was worrying him. They may not have known each other long, but it was for keeps. She’d known that from the beginning and so had he. Surely that meant they should share everything?
‘Your colleagues will think I’ve been beating you up,’ he joked from the kitchen as he rummaged in the fridge.
Perhaps she could open the laptop and sneak a look at the screen now, but no, he was back already, ice wrapped in a clean tea towel.
‘Anything interesting?’ she asked, nodding towards the computer.
‘Oh, not really. Just looking for another development opportunity for when I’ve finished Beech House. Not much out there though.’
He sounded convincing.
‘Want me to take a look?’ she asked. ‘I mean, if we’re to be business partners as well as… well, you know.’
Please say yes, she thought. Please, please say yes and then it will all be all right.
He smiled, leaned forwards and kissed the side of her mouth.
‘Of course you can look.’
And she felt a shiver of relief run through her. He arched his back slightly and yawned.
‘But not now. Let’s go back to bed.’
No, she thought. Let’s not. Let’s sit here and talk and tell each other everything, but in truth there was little more to tell from her side. She had spent the last twelve weeks telling him about her life.
Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she just hadn’t given him time to tell her about his. She wasn’t really worried – not like Carrie was, but Carrie didn’t really know him. She’d moved out of the flat to go and live in the South of England and Gavin had moved in. Jules had never thought when she suggested a much-needed two-week break at a picture-perfect cottage on the Isle of Wight that Carrie would meet the love of her life and decide to embrace island life. She bit her lip. She was really happy for Carrie, but she still missed their late-night chats and the sprigs of wildflowers in a little glass bottle on the windowsill. Gavin bought her flowers all of the time but somehow his extravagant bouquets didn’t touch her soul quite like Carrie’s ‘weeds’, as she used to call them.
‘It’s early days,’ Jules said on one of their frequent phone calls, ‘we haven’t got around to talking about his background much. We’ve been busy with other things.’
‘It’s been three months,’ Carrie replied. ‘You must have had time to talk as well as have sex.’
‘We talk about the theatre and books and football,’ Jules said defensively.
‘Football? You?’ Carrie snorted.
‘Okay. Gavin talks and I listen.’
‘Do you listen to what he’s not saying, too?’
‘I have no idea what you mean,’ Jules replied, holding her phone slightly further away from her ear.
