“Next time, huh?” She wants a next time. We grin at each other, and I finish my chips off before binning the paper.
I want to try something.
“You have a little…” I rub her lip with my thumb to clear a tiny trace of ketchup, and then bring it to my mouth, maintaining eye contact. “Mmm.” It’s gratifying when I see her bite her lip as she looks at my own. Pushing my luck a little further, I take her hand, and my insides tingle when she laces her fingers with mine, pressing our palms together.
By some unspoken mutual agreement, we’ve been winding our way towards Aunt Lucinda’s bench on the clifftop, and I regret that the stone stairs are too narrow for us to remain side by side.
“Holy shit,” I hear her exclaim behind me, and she sounds delighted. I turn, and she points up at the dark sky. “Shooting star. First I’ve seen in years.” She beams in the moonlight.
Hello, new core memory. This is one of those rare moments that really stay with you, the sort that you come back to again and again throughout your life. If I end up on a deathbed at the end of mine, I know this is a scene I’ll think about as the world fades: the love of my life, smiling at shooting stars.
We sit on the bench, which is rapidly becoming one of my favourite places in the world, and I place an arm around her shoulder, pulling her a little closer. She settles in, getting comfortable under my arm, and we watch the scene across the bay, hoping for more. Sure enough, another shooting star darts across the sky, gone in a split second. “You gonna make a wish?” I ask her.
“I already did.” She rests her head lightly against my chest. “And don’t worry, I don’t believe telling people what I wished for stops it from coming true.”
It’s a clear invitation to ask her, and my chest heats up as I wonder where this is going. “OK, what did you wish for?”
She looks up at me, and her eyes are warm, soft, but serious. “I wished for everything to be as genuinely good with you…withus…as it seems to be.” She swallows nervously before stretching up to give me a soft, slow kiss on the mouth. I can feel my pulse skittering in my chest with each agonisingly blissful second, until I’m almost lightheaded. We smile at each other, and she rests her forehead on my chin.
“So what didyouwish for?” she asks me.
“That kiss,” I joke, and I’m not lying. I just don’t say the whole truth: that I wished I could kiss her under the stars like this every night for the rest of my life.
As Eli always says, all we ever have is the present moment, so I live in it, in this moment where Ican.
Lifting her chin up, running my thumb across her cheek, I lean in and kiss her again.
Only this time, I don’t stop until we’re both breathless.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sadie
“Shit, thisheat,” I grumble as I walk back into the parlour with a multipack of ice lollies, our second of the day. Em would have gone, but the phone was ringing off the hook.
Click staggers over to me, wagging his tail, and I put the box down so I can smoosh his sweet little face. “Poor little guy,” I coo, “how are you coping in your fur coat, my little squishybutt?” He snuffles around my ear, letting me know it’s never too hot for puppy kisses if I want them, and then heads back through the corridor to his papa.
It must be the hottest day of the year so far. Our air conditioning is struggling and temperamental, because it’s just sod’s law that it would need fixing when it’s almost forty celsius. It’s like being in an oven out there. The last time I was outside I could feel how hot the pavement was through my sandals, and the air is still stiflingly warm and muggy. I hate weather like this, both as a human and as a ginger human. No matter how much sunscreen I slather on, I’ll burn, and then I’ll peel, and it’s goingto itch horribly. I’m not one of those people who looks forward to summer.
Em is still on the phone, her hair up in the highest bun she can manage to keep her neck clear. So I open the box and offer it to her. “Lifesaver,” she mouths silently, and takes one. I got pineapple flavour this time, mostly because they were one of the only types that were left. It’s a busy Saturday in peak tourist season, so not only is it sweltering, it’spacked. People are buying medicinal ice creams in droves, and the local supermarket is almost cleared out.
I head through to Dean’s studio, and he gratefully accepts a lolly, too, as does his client. Eli just finished his last tattoo appointment of the day and is just waiting for his consultation to arrive, so I give him an ice pop as well so he can cool off in the meantime. The NOLA boys are a little more accustomed to the heat than me, but even Eli, who finds the UK cold all year round, looks a bit worn out by this heatwave.
And then I head through to Leo’s room.
“Hey,” I say, “here you go.” There are two left in the box, one each. Perfect.
“Angel,” he says, turning away from his laptop and what looks like a very complex colour coded spreadsheet, “you read my mind.”
Is it weird that I’m oddly disappointed when our fingers don’t touch when I hand it to him?
Not wanting to leave just yet, especially because we’ve both had a busy week since our date, I unwrap mine and perch on the arm of his dentist chair. “No more clients today?”
“Nah, just trying to find an air con maintenance company that isn’t booked up solid. And getting some of the month end stuff sorted. Boring as shit, but has to be done.”
I suck the end of my lolly, and moan softly in relief. It’s so blissfully refreshing.
He groans. “Don’t do that…”
