‘I thought you fancied Chris!’ I exclaim in a whisper as we break apart.
‘I did,’ she replies with an amused shrug, before her expression sobers. ‘I wanted to tell you earlier, but with all that happened …’
‘I’m glad you still did,’ I say, rubbing her arm.
‘I was about to leave and then I thought, fuck it, life’s too short. Tonight proved that.’
‘Let’s catch up soon,’ I say meaningfully.
She nods and looks past me at Finn, who’s sitting at the table where we left him, scrolling through his phone.
‘Have a good night,’ Rach says with equal significance.
It’s after 1 a.m. by the time Finn and I make it back to the cottage.
He looks shattered and I realise he must be horribly jet-lagged.
‘I don’t know how you’re still standing,’ I say as we climb the stairs to my bedroom.
‘I think I’m running on adrenaline,’ he replies.
‘Me too. Do you want water or tea or anything?’ I ask over my shoulder as I reach the top.
‘I just want you.’
I come to an abrupt halt and turn around, my blood warming in my veins at the heated look in his eyes.
He takes me in his arms and lowers his mouth to mine, kissing me slowly, deeply.
My knees tremble as I clutch his slim waist, and then everything speeds up and we’re stumbling into my bedroom and landing on my bed.
We shed our clothing quickly, desperately, but just as I think he’s about to take things up a notch, he hesitates, staring so deeply into my eyes that emotion begins to gather at the base of my throat.
‘Finn,’ I whisper in a choked voice, cupping his face with my hands.
He bends down to gently kiss my lips and then slowly sinks into me, our bodies connecting for the first time in almost a year. The sensation feels raw and not just physically. I don’t know why it hurts so much.
‘You didn’t bring a suitcase over this time,’ I say the following morning as I lie in the crook of Finn’s arm, our heads resting on the same pillow.
‘I left it at my grandparents’ place.’
‘Will you bring it over later?’ I tilt my face to look at him.
‘I’m not sure,’ he says, and his indecisiveness sounds strange, as though he might be putting it on.
‘Why does this feel so different to last year?’
He doesn’t respond for a moment. Maybe he’s pondering my question, or maybe he’s just trying to work out how to give me his answer.
I’m all ears when he speaks.
‘I think last year was a little too hard,’ he admits quietly, nestling his head against mine. He pauses. ‘I had reservations about coming back, if I’m honest.’
‘Reservations about being here in Aggie or reservations about seeing me?’
‘Both.’
My heart aches as he lifts my hand from his chest and presses his palm against mine in the space between us, linking our fingers. I stare up at our hands and my vision goes blurry.
