“Surprise me.”
His head popped out from behind the fridge door. “You want me to choose?”
I smiled softly, taking in a stray curl of hair that was sticking out at an odd angle. “I trust you.”
Jonah rumbled about for a few more minutes, me watching his fine ass as he collected up some ingredients and laid them all out on the breakfast bar counter. He began to work, buttering some fresh bread we’d picked up from the bakery.
I used to wonder when my last carb had been consumed. Used to count calories and track micros. Not anymore. Not around him.
“So, I was thinking about…after,” he said.
“After dinner?” I asked, confused. “I mean we could eat early. I don’t mind.”
“No, not that.” He shook his head, suddenly unable to look at me, his focus on building my snack. “Like after here.”
“Oh. Right.” It made sense; this was always going to come up eventually. He also wanted to know what came next. What came after.
Up until now, I’d been trying to avoid it, and I’d achieved that briefly with the decision to stay a few more days, by giving us more time. But it was only kicking the can down the road, and sooner or later I knew I’d have to confront it – confront that being with Jonah was exactly what I’d needed when I left London. It wasn’t Scotland or even leaving the city, it was him.
And it was nearly over.
“I know I need to finish the book. I’ve been feeling better about it,” he admitted.
“That’s great!” I said, feeling truly excited for him. The book was important, especially with the looming deadline.
He smiled, his gaze cast down as he sliced some cheese, placing it delicately on top of the bread. “Yeah, having somebody to occupy my time this past week has really helped.”
I couldn’t help the way my heart squeezed at the thought that I had helped him as much as he’d helped me. “You’re welcome.”
“My plan was to go home after,” he continued. “Maybe I could find myself in London. I would need to sort my visa out, but there are plenty of tennis clubs down there. I’m sure I wouldn’t struggle to find a job.”
“You’d be willing to do that?” I asked. “For me?”
“I know it’s…we haven’t had a lot of time.” He looked up at me, his dark eyes holding a hint of worry. “And I know it’s insane to make plans, but I look at you and I wonder how I’m supposed to exist here after you leave.” The honesty in his words, the ache in his tone, it stole the breath from my lungs. “Honestly, I’m dreading it.”
A thousand thoughts flew through my head, and I couldn’t vocalize a single one. Instead, I was pinned by his gaze as he spoke again. “So yeah, I’d do it for you. I’d also do it for myself, because…” He took a moment, but I watched as the courage collected itself across his features, the resolve building. “Because I think it’s worthwhile.”
That we are worthwhile.
“I think that too,” I admitted, my voice so small I was barely sure he heard me.
Jonah tore his gaze away, and instead, with a nudge of his knuckles, he softly pushed the plate towards me. Silently, I picked up the sandwich, carefully shovelling it into my mouth. He lowered opposite me, leaning down on top of the counter.
“Thanks for this,” I said, before biting into the sandwich.
“Anything for you.”
Swallowing another mouthful, I found a shred of courage. “Let’s play it out. Because as much as I want that, I also want us to know what we’re getting into.”
Jonah straightened. “Yes, that’s smart.” He began to clean, grabbing a kitchen towel and sweeping up crumbs from the counter, as I began to map out what our life together in London could look like: finding a new favourite coffee shop, sunny afternoons on the Heath, picking out new furniture for my place to help make it ours…
“So, you move to London and start coaching,” I said. “Is that what you think you’d enjoy? Isn’t that what you were doing before the book?”
“I didn’t like it then, but I could find a job that suits me.” He kept working, maybe so he could outrun the reality of what he was committing to. “Maybe work more one-on-one with people, use some of my contacts in the professional world.”
I thought about it for a moment, seriously considered the idea, and it felt good. However, I knew how the world of professional tennis worked all too well. As a coach, he’d have no control. He’d be at the whim of tournaments and flight itineraries. “If you get involved with the pros, that’s a lot of travelling, right?”
“That’s true,” he said. “There’s options.”
