We bathed in one of the biggest baths I’d ever seen, which led to my discovering that Rose really was flexible, me taking her from behind over the back of the sofa in the lounge. Both exhausted, and me definitely needing time to recover, we headed down to one of the bars for some lunch, my hand continually searching for hers, her foot knocking against mine, the early throws of what I knew was falling in love.
It was like releasing a genie from a bottle, knowing that I could love her like this now, after all this time.
We sat at a small table with a view outside, her hair tied up on top of her head, exposing the length of her neck where my lips had been before.
“Maybe we could plan a night away in London every month.” She looked around the room. “Do you think people can tell what we’ve just spent the last three hours doing?”
“You’re the psychologist.” I pointed to a bottle of champagne on the menu for the sake of the waiter, not wanting him to linger and overhear Rose’s musings.
“Some might speculate, but most will be too caught up in their own dramas to pay any attention. Have you ordered?” She watched the waiter head off.
“Champagne.”
“Oh.” Her expression was teasing. “What are we celebrating?”
“Us. Unless you want to keep things on the low down still.” I would do whatever she wanted, but I would prefer not to keep this a secret.
“I think we let people find out. Half of them will be expecting it anyway. I doubt my dad will be surprised if he was warning you when I was sixteen.” She grinned, shaking her head. “I never expected him to be that insightful.”
“I think he’s more insightful than he’s given credit for.”
“Don’t start being his biggest fan now. He’ll only maim you if you hurt me.” The threat was still there. “And if you do that, it’s Fallon you need to be afraid of. She’s the scary one.”
We ordered food and drank champagne, talking about everything and nothing, decisions made to let people find out that we were together, and yes, it was serious, because how could it not be after all this time? We wouldn’t have risked years of friendship for something that would be over before the sheets could be changed.
That day and night at The Ritz changed everything. It was thirty-six hours without distraction, just the two of us losing ourselves in each other and finding out who we could be. We left the following day and headed back to mine, dropping off our bags before walking around Borough and Southwark, looking at apartments that were for sale, because she’d made up her mind that with Harriet in Stratford, she definitely wanted to be closer to the rest of us. As tempting as it was, moving in together now would be too soon.
She stayed at mine that night, making the most of another big bed and sheets that weren’t quite as high a thread count. The verse novel,The Final Year,that she’d lent me was in the bookcase outside the room and I caught her looking through it, still charmed by the poet’s signature at the front.
I expected her to take it back with her, wanting to add it back to her collection, but instead she filed in back in the bookcase, offering a critique on how I’d arranged my books.
“You’re not taking it home?” I asked, curious.
“Not this time. It can wait.”
I didn't ask what for, because I was pretty sure I knew. Some things could remain unsaid.
CHAPTER 25
Rose
It had been the laziest of lazy weekends, full of early spring flowers, daffodils and crocuses and a trip to Clapham Common, although it was too cold still for a picnic. We hung out in the trendy cafes and the second hand bookstores on the Saturday, bathing in each other’s company and the fact that I could touch Carter when I wanted, because he was in fact now mine.
There was something in knowing that I had that right to know him, where others didn’t. I wasn’t just the person he phoned when he had a funny story to tell, I was the person he’d tell first, the person who could touch him, hug him, sleep with him and there had been a lot of that this week, so much I’d needed an Epsom salt bath and a night off, which had made him feel very proud.
We’d not spent every night together, because there needed to be some boundaries and shift work was always fun. I saw Fallon and Erin, and even went for a meal with Laurie, who wanted all the details about me and Carter. I gave some, but others I clung to myself, precious moments that I was possessive over. Harriet phoned every night, giving me updates about books and Stratford-Upon-Avon and the friends she’d made. She wasalready enjoying it, not giving herself time to miss anyone, immersing herself in books, including editions that had long since been thought lost. It was literary history and she was revelling it, which made it easier to tell her more about Carter, because we were both progressing in our own way, the bond no less than it was before.
It was Sunday morning, and Carter had stayed over at mine because his heating wasn’t working again, so I woke with a six foot something, broad shouldered bloke weighted over half of me, because he couldn’t sleep without touching, something I’d learned in the last ten days. Waking up had led to more sex, the sleepy sort that was half lazy until things revved up, which was probably my favourite type, and that led to hunger.
So we were in my kitchen, frying bacon and eggs, me wearing a dressing gown and not much else, and Carter shirtless and in sweatpants because my heating was definitely working, when the buzzer for my door went.
“Expecting anyone?” Carter asked, buttering the baps for our breakfast.
“No, and no one other than my parents would think this was a good time to call on a Sunday morning.” All of my friends would either be at the gym because they were insane or still in bed, or having brunch. I had Sunday lunch with Erin and Fallon scheduled at half past two, but other than that, my time was going to be spent doing things to Carter, because we wouldn’t be seeing much of each other in the coming week. I was at a psychology conference and then off to see Harriet in Stratford for a night, and Carter had three long – ten hours plus – operations booked in. I wasn’t unhappy about it, we were in the honeymoon period and I wanted to prolong it. A bit of anticipation was good for the soul.
What wasn’t good for the soul were my parents at this time on a Sunday morning when I had hair that told the story of thenight by itself and a mother who was far too observant for my own good.
“Shit. It is my parents.” I checked the camera before I opened the door. “Do you want to hide?” I looked down the hallway to where Carter was standing, still shirtless and barefoot, still wearing a very smug smile on his face.
