We stroll side-by-side, walking in no particular direction; his arm brushes mine and I can’t help but steal glances at him. I’ve missed his face these past few months. So much wasted time, but for principled reasons. Reasons that no longer exist, reasons that no longer bar us from being together.
He’s quiet and so am I until we reach the London Eye, stilled at this hour, but the wheel is lit up on the outside, as usual, in a beautiful purple-red hue. We keep walking towards the river and, when we reach it, Ollie looks at me, a smile forming on his face as we stop. I think he’s worked it out.
‘Tell me what else,’ he instructs.
‘You want me to tell you what this means?’ I query.
‘Mm-hmm,’ he says, the smile not leaving his face.
‘I asked Ben outright.’
‘What did you ask him?’ The smile is stronger now.
‘I think you know,’ I say quietly.
Ollie nods. ‘And what was his reply?’
‘I think you know. I think you know what Ben said. And because of that, I think you know why I messaged you in the middle of the night. I think you know why, after we’vewaited so long, why – after speaking to Ben – I couldn’t wait a single minute longer.’
Ollie inches towards me. His backpack slides down his shoulder and he lets it slide right down to the ground. ‘I’m sorry I made you wait.’
‘An hour and a half, Ollie.’
‘And all the years.’
‘And all the years,’ I repeat.
‘I hope,’ he says as he slowly closes the distance between us, angles his head to the side and pauses, analysing my face, my eyes, which must betray my excitement, my nervousness, ‘I hope all that time apart was worth it.’
‘I know it was,’ I whisper. ‘I can’t wait any more. I can’t wait for you – this – any more. We’ve waited long enough for this.’
‘We have,’ he says.
And painfully, excruciatingly slowly, Ollie touches his lips against mine and sparks fire between us like rockets, as he softly increases the pressure of his kiss. My body falls against his as his hand touches my back, pulling me towards him. And the years and years of not being able to do this take hold of us, forcing us into a breathless movement together, where it feels like there’s no one else but us. As if there will never be anyone else but us ever again.
I hold on to the front of his shirt with both hands as if he’s not real, not here, and I need to be sure he is both of those things.
‘I love you,’ I tell him when Ollie pulls back, looks intomy eyes uncertainly. Only now it feels different when I say it. Before, it always had a sense of something that could never be. A sense of loss. Now it holds so much potential, so much hope. It holds a future.
‘I love you too,’ he replies and smiles in disbelief, as if he feels all this too. ‘I love you,’ he says again, despite the fact we’ve said it before. But not like this. Because now itisdifferent. Because now, finally, Ollie and I can be together.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
One year later
I hand Ollie a glass of champagne as we host our first party in the garden of our new home. The weather is still bright and warm. It’s the end of summer and represents just the beginning for us. We’ve been together for a year and every day feels like making up for lost time.
‘Not so fast,’ Ollie says as I start to move away to chat to our guests. He pulls me back towards him, placing his champagne on the edge of the barbecue, where he’s trying not to burn an array of food. He steals a kiss from me while I slide my arms around his waist and settle in for a moment against him. He leans over, barbecue tongs in hand, and turns the burgers while I stay in situ, holding him.
Earlier this summer I sold my London flat and bought a three-bed semi-detached cottage in a little village not too far from Ollie’s dad. Ollie decided not long after we got together that he loved his brief stint of working in a GP’s surgery, hankering after it so much that we’ve had a complete relocation, thanks to his new job. He’s so much happier now, less tired, loves getting to know his patients.
He loved where he grew up and, when choosing the cottage, we found ourselves discussing where the good playgroups and schools were. His excitement is palpable that one day we might have a family together, here. The day we moved in, Ollie proposed, producing a ring he’d bought weeks earlier and was nervously keeping hidden for the right moment.
‘You know me,’ he’d said. ‘I don’t like to rush anything.’
I knew years ago that he was the one. I know it more with every passing day and our lives have fallen into an easy rhythm – me instructing Pilates classes in local gyms and studios, making new friends with clients and instructors and coming home at the end of the day in time to be with the man I love, just at the moment he walks through the door from work.
Liv wanders over. ‘Have you got any more of those vegetable kebabs for Sam?’
