And once more, it doesn’t come.
I take a deep breath. It’s okay.I’mokay. Forwards now, not backwards. I made that decision once with Tom. I can make it again with Finn.
Iwantto make it again with Finn.
He isn’t on the sofa when I come out of the bathroom. I hear the clink of glasses knocking together upstairs in the kitchen. I follow the sound and come out on the first-floor landing to see him over by the sink, his hands braced against the counter, our empty wine glasses set to one side.
He seems depleted, standing there.
‘You want to call it a night?’ I ask, going over to him.
He looks over his shoulder at me as I approach, his expression weary. ‘I thought maybe you did.’
‘Yeah, I guess.’
It’s the early hours of the morning in the UK.
He turns around to face me, resting his back against the counter.
‘You seemed upset,’ he says quietly, the muscles in his jaw tensing.
‘I was. But I’m okay now.’
We stare at each other, and neither of us speaks as the seconds tick by. And then he holds his hands out to me, palms up, in a small, sweet gesture, his face alight with tentative hope.
I smile and step forward.
He pulls me flush to his chest and it feels so right to be close to him again. I rest my cheek against his shoulder, my nose pressed against his warm neck, and breathe in, the scent of him so comforting. Lifting my head, I bring one hand up to cup his jaw.
He stares down at me through his long lashes, his blue-green eyes still tinged with trepidation. Theyhaveaged, I realise, and I don’t mean the fine lines spanning from the outer corners. He’s lost some of his sparkle.
I want to bring that sparkle back. I want to see him smile again, dimples and all. At that precise moment, it’s what I want most in the world.
I bring my other hand up. And then I push the tips of my thumbs into the slight indents where his dimples should be.
He jerks backwards with amusement. ‘How many years have you wanted to do that?’ he asks, laughing.
‘Too many,’ I reply with a grin.
Out of the blue, I experience a strange rush of emotion that passes through me with a whoosh, making me feel giddy and breathless.
‘I love you so, so much, Finn.’
The apprehension on his face melts away at my words. ‘I love you too,’ he whispers, his eyes gleaming.
I step up on my tiptoes, but he meets me halfway.
Our kiss is slow and deep and achingly familiar. Everything about it feels right.
I think of Tom, but only briefly. Mostly I’m able to stay in the moment with Finn.
We move at the same time, my legs coming around his waist as he lifts me and turns, placing me on the kitchen counter.
I reach for the hem of his T-shirt and tug it up and over his head, and then his hands are sliding my dress along my thighs. The heat between us is sizzling. I need this. Iwantthis. And from what I can feel as he tugs my body against his, he needs and wants this just as much.
We don’t take it slow. I don’t think we’re capable of taking it slow. It’s fast and urgent and leaves very little room for rational thought.
It’s perfect.
