‘No.’ She gestures to the letter, and reaches out to trace his stubbly jaw with warm, gentle fingers. ‘Do you believe you’re worthy of her heart?’
‘Yes,’ he bursts out, ‘and of yours, and Rosie’s.’ Gulping. ‘If you’ll have me?’
‘That’s not even a question.’ She replies in a soft undertone, blue eyes gleaming with a deep, spellbinding devotion. ‘We’ve been waiting for you to catch up.’
‘Oh.’ He stares at her with gratitude, relief, adoration and hope. The emotions combine to lodge a tennis-ball sized lump in his throat. ‘So, what now?’
‘Now,’ she wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close, ‘we love each other.’
Two days later, he lets himself into his flat to find Rosie splayed on the sofa watching the live-action remake ofMulan, and Kirsten in the kitchen attempting to reach a mug from the top shelf.
‘Why does he have to put these up so bloody high?’ she grumbles.
‘Because it’s fun watching you try and reach.’
‘Oh!’ She jumps, whirling around. ‘You scared me.’
‘Sorry.’ He smiles, grabbing her by the waist and hoisting her up onto the kitchen counter. ‘Hello.’
She twines her arms around his neck as electricity sparks between them. ‘Hi,’ she responds, before kissing him hungrily.
When he emerges from her passionate greeting, his hair is stuck up in tufts and his body is pulsing. It’s the most alive he’s felt in years.
‘Thank god it’s all gone,’ she leans back to study his clean-shaven jaw, ‘otherwise I’d have the worst stubble rash.’
‘Glad there’s a side benefit, but you know I did it to make your daughter happy?’ He’s not entirely joking.
‘Yeah, and to be honest, it makes me love you even more.’
He gulps, a wave of overwhelming gladness crashing into him. He is so, so lucky. Reddening, he replies, ‘Uh, me too.’
She smiles widely, warming both his hearts. ‘I know that too.’
‘God, you’re lovely,’ he groans, burying his face in the crook of her neck and inhaling her familiar sweet scent. She strokes his hair, knowing what he needs. Comfort. Love. Understanding.
They stand there for a while, before breaking apart.
‘I’ve had an idea about how else I can help the village, but…’ he broaches, reaching past Kirsten and turning the radio on. It somehow doesn’t surprise him when the song is about karma, boyfriends, cats, people who have hurt the American singer, and sweet justice. It’s the tune Louisa used to hum in his head. His karma feels much better, nowadays.
‘But?’ Kirsten prods.
‘Sorry, got distracted. But it’s not without risk.’
She shrugs. ‘What is? Plus, I’d say we can deal with anything at this point.’
‘We?’ This woman is a saint. He doesn’t deserve her, but will spend his life trying to.
‘Of course, we. Us. You and me. Plus, Rosie. Now stop being so mysterious and tell me your idea.’
When he finishes, her expression glows with approval. ‘That’s brilliant. Come on, let’s get started.’ Unwrapping her legs from his lean hips, she tries to shove him aside. ‘We should start making calls. Let me down.’
Tightening his grip, he lowers his head. ‘They can wait a while. This is more important.’
She sniggers. ‘I don’t think Albie would agree.’
‘Albie,’ Harley presses his mouth to her collarbone, ‘is a huge romantic trying to fulfil the love of his life’s last wish, while being lucky enough to court another amazing woman. I think he’d understand.’
‘Hmmmm.’ She tips her head back to give him easier access, sighing as he runs his hands through her long hair. ‘Maybe you’re right.’
