‘Huh?’
‘You need to thank her for this sheepskin rug. It was an excellent addition to your decor. So soft, so comfortable, so…’
Seb pulled me down on top of him, planting slow, light kisses on my bare skin. ‘It’s a relief that it’s finally seen some action. It was getting embarrassing, all cliche, no substance. Now I feel I’ve stepped into a cowboy romance.’
‘Or a Christmas movie. There’s often some sheepskin action in those.’
I flopped onto my back with a satisfied sigh. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so happy or content.
‘Coffee?’ asked Seb, propping himself up on his elbow and looking down at me. ‘You’re so beautiful, Liv.’
‘Thank you, but no thanks to coffee. I’ll never sleep tonight if I have caffeine this late. I don’t suppose you have any chamomile tea?’
‘Actually, I think I have some in a cupboard somewhere.’
‘I thought you would. You look the type.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ asked Seb, reaching down and tickling me.
‘Stop it, it was a compliment.’ I squirmed beneath him, batting his fingers away. ‘You look like a hippy, but a very sexy one.’
Seb jumped up, and I couldn’t help admiring his physique. All the work he did around the farm showed in his well-defined muscles, but there was nothing self-conscious or curated about his body. In many ways, there was also nothing exceptional. What made him so attractive to me was his complete ease in his own skin. His own body confidence was contagious. Only a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed of exposing the lumps and bumps I’d acquired with motherhood in such a brazen way.
‘Wait there,’ said Seb, throwing me a blanket. ‘You think I look like a hippy? I’ve got something to show you which may surprise you.’
I pulled the blanket up around me. Seb disappeared into the bathroom, coming out wrapped in a fluffy navy dressing gown. He paused in the kitchen to flick on the kettle, then disappeared into his bedroom.
The roaring fire threw warmth across me and by the time Seb returned with two hot drinks and what looked like a photograph album, my eyelids were drooping and I was fighting off sleep.
‘What’s that?’
‘My past. One year of my past, to be exact. But it will tell you all you need to know about me. I should have shown you this before we… you know, but well, I don’t think it was my brain controlling my actions. If, after you’ve seen this, you don’t want to continue things, I’ll completely understand.’
I shuffled until I was leaning against the leg of an armchair. Seb sat down beside me, handing me my tea. He stared into the fire, his brow furrowed, chewing on his lip.
‘You don’t have to show me this now.’
Seb shook his head, as though coming out of a trance. ‘I do. I should’ve done it sooner. It can’t wait any longer.’ He laid his mug on the floor and picked up the photograph album. The protective paper crackled as Seb turned a page.
The first photograph he turned to was a family portrait. A smart woman with cropped blonde hair smiled into the camera, her hand resting on the back of a wheelchair. The man in the wheelchair sat unsmiling, as though the woman were doing the work of appearing happy for both of them. His legs were bent to one side, thinner than the rest of his body, and a pair of plaid slippers covered his feet. On his body, he wore a leather jacket, and I could see a tattoo poking out from the top of his shirt.
To the left of the wheelchair stood a pretty young woman. Her blonde hair hung just below her shoulders, her makeup free face impassive. She held her hands in front of her as though creating a barrier between herself and the source of her discomfort. Her legs were crossed at the ankle, and as I looked closer, I could see she was chewing her lip in much the same way Seb did.
‘Is that you?’ I pointed to a tall, broad, clean-shaven man.
‘Yes, if you can believe it.’
‘But you look so different.’
‘I know.’
Seb tried to turn the page, but I stopped him. In this photograph, he was neither the long-haired casual dresser I knew now, nor the floppy-haired emo-teen in baggy jeans and eyeliner I’d met at sixteen. The Seb staring out of the photograph wore what even to my un-trained eye looked like a designer suit. It was tight fitting; the fabric stretching across bulky arms andbroad shoulders. His hair was cropped so close to his head it was almost a buzz cut.
‘Tell me about this version of Seb.’ I took Seb’s hand and squeezed it, bringing it to my lips and kissing his rough skin.
Seb sighed. ‘This version of Seb wasn’t someone you would’ve liked.’
‘How do you know?’
