Becka closed the car door, leaning into the open window.
“Did you ever know that you’re my hero?” She said with a straight face, and my heart soared with love, even as my chin trembled.
“You’re everything I would like to be,” I said, nodding.
“I can fly higher than an eagle,” she said tremulously.
“And you are the wind beneath my wings,” I finished, voice barely a whisper over the lump in my throat.
“Let’s not leave it years next time, okay, babes?”
“You could always come to London,” I suggested.
“Maybe one day we’ll travel the world together,” she laughed.
“Why the fuck not,” I agreed.
“Go,” Becka urged, hitting the top of the car twice. And she was right. I would never leave unless she told me to.
The driver, not waiting on my instruction, pulled out into the morning traffic, as quiet as it ever was in the City of Angels.
I did not look back.
Chapter 37
February
“My mum’s been on at me to ask you round for tea.” Patrick said lightly, swinging my hand as we walked down the road to his place.
“Your mum?” I squeaked.
He grinned down at me. “Don’t worry, I told her not to bring out the good plates, just yet. It can wait. There’s no rush.” He squeezed my hand, and the gesture should have been comforting, but it just made me aware that my palm was sweating.
We walked the rest of the way making amiable small talk about this or that assignment either of us had received. He’d been sent to photograph someone attempting a world record attempt for stacking dominoes, whereas I’d been tasked with an article about an Irish rock group who’d gotten in trouble for pouring red paint down the steps of a London museum.
“We’ve had very different weeks,” he said, laughing, and I agreed, happy to be back on neutral ground.
“I’m stuffed, I can’t eat another thing,” I groaned, pushing my plate away.
Patrick chuckled. “Not even the profiteroles we got out the freezer?”
I groaned again. “Gimme a few minutes.”
He laughed again, a light sound that seemed to come easily to him. He was always laughing, always had a comforting thing to say in any given situation. I admired that about him. I watched him stand up and take our plates to the sink in his small kitchen.
Putting the dishes down, he turned around and leaned against the counter, looking at me with a small smile on his face.
“What?” I asked bemused, unable to read his expression.
“Am I not allowed to admire my girlfriend in the candlelight?”
I squirmed in my chair.
“That reminds me,” he said suddenly, snapping his fingers. “We really ought to book somewhere for Valentines. I know a lot of the really fancy places will have been booked by now, but if we pull our finger out, we can probably get a semi-fancy one. What d’ya think?”
“I don’t mind.” I shrugged.
“What about that place on Melville? You know the one with the massive bushes outside?”
