“Yeah, I mean, who doesn’t?” I said without thinking. I caught a flicker across her face, a brief freeze, and panic stirred in my gut. “I mean, I teach them a lot. And it’s…nice. They’re fun in their own weird, kid way, you know? I’ve always imagined having a big family someday. It has its advantages; there’s always some drama,” I added, words tumbling out like a runaway train. “How do you feel about them?”
“They’re fine.”
I tried to keep my attention firmly on the road. I couldn’t help but look over at her, trying to read her feelings in her expression. The music from the radio station she’d chosen was nothing more than a garbled noise to my ears.
Kit looked out the window for a long moment. “It’s not that I don’t like kids. It’s just…complicated.”
I wanted to ask. Yet, I also didn’t want to push. This was just…whatever it was. A holiday fling, for her at the very least. But I couldn’t help but wonder if this had something to do with the ex.
“I used to think I’d have them,” she continued, her voice growing so quiet I had to turn the music down a notch. “I even tried, once. It didn’t work out. I’m not cut out for being a mum, I guess.”
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable but heavy with meaning. My hand found hers, interlacing my fingers withhers. I didn’t ask again. She’d opened up already, and I wouldn’t dare push more.
“Wait!” she suddenly shouted. My foot slammed the brake like we were about to hit a sheep. The car jolted, stopping shy of the curb.
“What is it?” I asked, heart thudding like we were in a high-speed chase instead of…pulling up to the village shop.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” And, without any further explanation, Kit jumped out of the car, disappearing into the shop.
I took a few moments to try and calm myself. I was getting ahead of myself. It was hard not to with her, to want more and more, to take every piece of her she would allow. I’d never been like this, so deep from the first moment. So obsessed with her every move, hanging on every word. It felt hard to loosen my grip. I knew for both of our sakes, I had to.
Still, I found myself killing the engine, following her inside.
The bell above the shop door let out a half-hearted ding. The woman behind the counter glanced up, gave me the sort of once-over usually reserved for shoplifters and wayward tourists, and I offered a sheepish wave and ducked into the nearest aisle.
“Hey.” I stepped to Kit’s side, my gaze cast downwards to her basket where three bottles of wine sat. I huffed a laugh. “Is that enough to see you into the new year?”
She laughed. “Not if we’re sharing.”
“Was it a restock you needed?”
“Nope.” She reached up, plucking a box from the top shelf with a look far too smug. I followed her gaze.
Condoms.
I blinked at the box in her hand. “XXL? Kit, let’s be reasonable.”
She let out a bark of laughter, loud enough to echo off the baked bean tins. “Please,” she said, eyes dancing, “you act like I haven’t had that thing in my mouth.”
I felt like every gossiping eye in the village narrowed on us, even if we were almost alone. Meanwhile, my brain – traitorous and loud – was already five steps ahead, spinning out possibilities, futures of her mouth on mine, her body warm against me. I felt heat crawl up the back of my neck like a teenager.
How quickly can I get us home?
She tossed the box into the basket without missing a beat and headed towards the register, her hips swaying with reckless purpose. I jogged after her like a man possessed.
At the checkout, the older woman started scanning the bottles of wine at a glacial pace.
“Find everything you need?” she asked.
Kit smiled sweetly. “Sure did.”
Then came the condoms. The womandidn’tblink. Just plonked them into the bag between the merlot and a multipack of crisps. I swore, even my ears turned pink.
“And I see you survived Christmas,” she added, looking towards Kit.
Kit leaned in, almost conspiratorial. “Turns out he’s not a serial killer.”
The woman gave a dry hum. “I’ll let the locals know.”
