When he answered, he was wearing navy jogging bottoms, a black t-shirt clinging in all the places that rendered her defenceless, and the colour under one of his eyes sat somewhere between the two shades.
She gasped.
‘Alright, Paradise. I know I’m handsome, but I’m not that handsome.’
‘Sean, your eye.’ She drew in closer, her instinct being to touch it. Touch him. Her hand got as far as his chin before she pulled it back, afraid it was the wrong thing to do.
‘I’m fine.’ She noticed his eyes move from the chain around her neck, where his wedding ring hung, to her wedding finger and the white diamond ring he’d given her. There was a fragmentary hesitation as if he were about to say something about this, but instead he said, ‘Come on in.’
Nothing much had changed in the house, which still had that warm, woody Sean smell. He motioned for her to sit on the couch and sat down at the other end, turning slowly to face her.
Now it was her turn to catch sight of his hand. Wedding ring free, of course.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked. ‘Summer said you took a nasty tumble off your bike.’
A softness in Sean’s expression suggested appreciation of her concern. ‘I’m fine. Had a bit of an old-lady fainting spell because of low blood pressure. Fell off my bike into a ditch. Came round with a black eye and bruised ribs, went to hospital and here we are. The doctor advised me to rest for far too long, but I’ve a ride to finish, so I’ll be going against doctor’s orders.’
And wasn’t this the man she loved all over? ‘Oh, Sean. Are you sure?’
‘Aye.’
She twisted her lip. He shouldn’t be thinking about the cycle, but it was too much to expect him not to.
‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. I presume that is worry I’m seeing.’
Cherry wiped away a tear before it tumbled down her cheek. ‘Of course it’s worry, you daft muppet. You could have died.’
Sean dismissed the possibility with a light laugh. ‘Not from a wee tumble into a ditch, although the doctor did tell me to sort myself out or I could be marching into pre-diabetes land.’
‘Fucking what?! Sean! They told you you’ve got pre-diabetes?’
Sean shook his head from side to side in an indefinable way. ‘No, they didn’t, but I need to be a bit healthier. Lower stress, less Irn-Bru and a better diet. It’s no biggie.’
‘It is a biggie. What caused all this? Overdoing it?’
He caught her concern. ‘Stuff we talked about, I think. Me looking out for everyone else but myself. But don’t worry, Cher, please. I’ve learned my lesson.’
‘Have you, though? There are a lot of people who care a hell of a lot that you’re around, you know. Me included.’
‘Aye, I have. And I’d trade all the Irn-Bru in Scotland to have you here every day. Zero contest.’
God, she wanted to wrap herself around him. Have him squeeze her right back. Being on the other end of the couch was too far away.
Sean read her expression. ‘I’d come closer,’ he said. ‘But, you know…’
‘The black eye?’
He laughed. ‘No, not the black eye. You. I want you, Cherry. But I’m a bit debilitated, and if I go near you, I might disappoint both of us.’
‘I highly doubt you would disappoint.’ Cherry smoothed down a cushion, holding it as a very poor second to her husband.
‘Jesus, the way you’re stroking that cushion is turning me on, so you might want to stop it.’
‘Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realise a cushion could be such a trigger.’
‘Of course you didn’t. But now you do.’
‘But listen… There are some things I have realised.’ Cherry pulled the cushion in closer.
