“Ouch!” He was laughing so I didn’t feel bad.
“Do you like that photo?” I wanted to bring the conversation back to that moment.
“I do. I love it as much as you love – come on, fill the gap.”
“Cheese.” I was trying hard not to laugh.
“Cheese? Come on, ‘Ris. Apart from bump, what do you love most in the world?”
“Are you being desperate on purpose, or do I really need to make you beg?” It was wonderful being able to turn the tables on him.
“Let’s not talk about begging. Come on, I need a shower.”
It was while he was showering I wrote him a letter, aware that he could shower quick and I wasn’t the fastest of writers, especially if I wanted it to be legible. I folded the letter up and placed itin his bag, making sure it stuck out enough for him to notice it easily. Gully was observant, there wasn’t much he missed, but knowing my luck he’d miss the note and I wanted him to read it while I was in the shower.
He came out with a towel wrapped low around his waist, the dark hair that was scattered over his chest denser within the ladder than ran from his navel to what lay below.
I knew what lay below. I’d felt it two nights ago when I’d made him come with my hand; I’d felt it against me when he’d held me; I’d felt it inside me two years ago.
“It’s rude to stare.” His grin was infuriating.
I shrugged. “I’ll be rude then. You could even take the towel off and let me have a proper look.”
He shook his head, still grinning. “We have a reservation in an hour. It’s about a fifteen minute walk. Does that give you long enough to get ready or shall I call and put it back if I can?”
“You’ve already booked something?”
He nodded. “I have.”
I frowned. “Okay. I’ll be ready.”
Gully
Dear Iris,
Thank you for your letter. Not going to bullshit on this one, I needed a bone throwing and if I decoded your words, I think that was what you were doing.
It’s not going to get you what you want though.
Love you,
Gully.
It was a small restaurant that specialised in small plates, which was Iris’ favourite. There was a joke that she didn’t like everything small, which was fortunate, as what I had wasn’t small but cracking that wasn’t going to do me any favours, especially because I wasn’t planning on putting out tonight.
Maybe tomorrow.
I didn’t have the willpower to go much longer than that. I didn’t want to go much longer; as much as I was enjoying torturing Iris, I was punishing myself as well.
“This place is lovely.” She looked round the restaurant, eyeing up the photographs of Spain on the walls. “And I’m so hungry.”
I’d noticed that. At breakfast this morning she’d had extra of most things, and she’d devoured two sandwiches at lunch along with a bowl of soup. I figured it was a pregnancy thing and decided to use the sense my mother knocked into me and not mention it.
“Eat as much as you want.”
“You might have to roll me home.” She looked at the menu again. “I think I’ll order the padron peppers too.”
We ate, I had a beer or two, Iris cast a longing look at my drink and sighed, which I ignored, trying not to grin. I had two sisters-in-law who’d had three pregnancies between them and I had not abstained from alcohol as a sign of solidarity, I’d just made sure their husbands stayed sober when it got close to their due dates.
