He always, always lies on the rug at this time of night. Something has to be wrong. My fear growing, I make my way to the kitchen. Maybe the door to the utility room is closed and he’s managed to lock himself in there. He’s done it before. Gone in to snarf some more of his food and managed to knock the door closed with an over-enthusiastic tail-wagging episode.
But the door is open. And… And…
The table is set for two. Properly. With candles and wine glasses and my good plates. The rest of the kitchen is absolutely spotless. More so than when we left, with the morning’s dishes still on the worktop, along with a collection of mugs and side plates retrieved from Adam’s room.
Nothing about this is making sense. I call Daniel again, but he does not come and yet… is that a bark? Did I hear a bark? I try to figure out where it’s coming from, hope rising in me that I am not actually going to find a dead dog anywhere on the premises.
That’s when I hear the unmistakeable sound of footsteps above. Human footsteps. Someone is here.
‘Conal?’ I call, trying to think of who on earth might be in my house, and realising that a burglar is unlikely to set the table for an intimate dinner à deux. Not unless he’s some completely sociopathic serial killer. But no, I will not allow my brain to go there.
There is no reply and still no sign of Daniel. Great bloody guard dog he’d make, I think, then immediately feel guilty in case he is actually dead.
When I climb the stairs, I see the bathroom door is closed. ‘Conal?’ I call again, but I can’t disguise the shake in my voice.
I reach my hand out to turn the handle just as the door is pulled open and… ‘Jesus, Mary, Saint Joseph and the wee donkey!’
In the future, when I tell this story, I will explain that this is the part where Conal O’Hagan screamed like a schoolgirl sucking on a helium balloon.
‘I was calling you!’ I say, trying not to laugh because he does actually look as if he’s seen a ghost. He reaches up and pulls his AirPods out of his ears, his face now transforming from sheet-white to blazing red.
‘I didn’t hear you!’
‘Yeah,’ I laugh. ‘I get that. Where’s Daniel? You haven’t made the rookie mistake of trying to bath him, have you?’
I try to look around Conal, wondering if I’m about to get body-slammed by a very soggy dog. Conal, however, steps in my way so I can’t see past him.
‘Daniel isn’t here,’ he says, still trying to get his composure. ‘He’s with Laura. She’s keeping him tonight. And clearly this is not going anywhere near as smoothly as I anticipated.’
‘Why is he with Laura?’ I ask, but one quick glance at Conal’s face starts all the pieces slotting into place. ‘Oh…’ I say.
‘No! No! Don’t worry. It’s not that! This is not some ploy to get you into bed the moment your son has left.’ I’m not sure Conal’s face could get any redder.
‘It isn’t?’ I ask, not sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. I didn’t anticipate this, not tonight. I’d hoped to at least have the chance to shave my legs and other areas.
‘No! Well, not like that anyway. I just… You’ve had a tough but also brilliant week. I wanted to give you the chance to relax and celebrate. I know you didn’t want to celebrate while Adam was here. That’s all. So I thought – probably stupidly, now that I see it from your perspective – that I’d get dog-sitters. Run you a nice warm bath and pour you a glass of wine, like so…’ he says, stepping backwards and revealing my bath filled with copious bubbles, candles on every surface and a glass of white wine, condensation tricking down the stem, waiting for me on a stool.
I can’t speak.
‘The plan was then that I’d cook dinner, while you had a soak, but I remembered that I can’t really cook so I have a selection of menus from the best takeaways in town and you can choose whatever you like.’ He looks so embarrassed that it’s actually adorable and I feel the growing need to kiss him.
‘Full disclosure,’ he says. ‘I had hoped, you know, for some kissing. Maybe some light… touching…’
I feel my body tighten in response. If I can feel this way with one word… the mention of touching… I might be in trouble.
He takes one step towards me, bending his head towards mine and taking my face in his hand. I close my eyes as he pulls closer and I let out the smallest of moans when I feel the warmth of his lips on my neck. I want them to stay there forever. Okay, maybe not forever, but for a while. At least that’s what I think until I feel his lips brush against my own. Gentle but also so very, very filled with longing. I know the next time his lips meet mine there will be an urgency there that will overtake us both and I am ready for it.
Only, he pulls back, his eyes dark, his hand still on my cheek. ‘I swear,’ he says, breathless, ‘I didn’t come here to sleep with you. No matter how much I want to. I want you to feel 100 per cent ready. I can wait. I can wait as long as it takes.’
He says all this without breaking his gaze and while just inches from my face. But his body is like a magnet to me and suddenly I don’t care that I’m almost forty-seven with stretch marks. I don’t care that I’m wearing my favourite comfy everyday bra and a pair of comfy knickers. I don’t care that my legs are on the stubbly side or that I probably smell ofKFCright now. I don’t care that I’m not as flexible as I once was or that it has been so very long since I had last had sex that I’m not even sure I remember how to any more.
I don’t care about any of it, because this is him. And he makes me feel safe. And wanted. And appreciated.
And there’s no dog in the house to look at us as if we are depraved animals.
I realise that now is the time for my iceberg moment. He has taken the steps towards me before now. He asked me out. He kissed me for the first time. He has taken the lead, but gently, and allowed for me to follow in my own time. He… well… he is a sexy bastard right in this very moment and I need him to know I feel that way.
I stand up on my tiptoes, closing the gap between us, and I brush my lips against his in the same soft teasing manner he had just kissed me with. But I don’t pull back. I am done with pulling back. ‘I don’t want to wait,’ I whisper before I kiss him, properly, deeply, again and lead him back towards the bedroom.
