My hands are on Heather’s shoulders, I know I’m holding her too tight, but I can’t bring myself to let her go.
‘It’s a good job I don’t have brittle bones,’ she says with a wince. ‘Is there any chance I could come inside?’
I swallow, not trusting myself to speak, though I step back and she rolls a familiar looking small pink suitcase behind her.
Did she think to stop off and torture me a little more along the way?
Heather bends from the waist to fuss over Elvis who, no longer chewing her underwear, seems very pleased to see her. ‘Who’s a good boy, then?’
Not me. Not the way my eyes are glued to her arse.
Not the thoughts I’m having, sexual and otherwise.
‘Were you going somewhere?’ she asks, twisting her head over her shoulder to glance my way. She glances back at Elvis again as she murmurs. ‘Did you run out of tonic?’
From where we’re standing, she can see through to the kitchen, to the half-filled bottle of vodka and the empty tonic.
‘Something like that,’ I answer, my tone gruff.
She straightens, seeming to blow out a long, restorative breath. And then she turns. She still wears the evidence of this afternoon’s tears in the red rimming of her eyes. But she looks strong, her gaze direct as she asks, ‘Do you have anything to say to me?’
I bark out a laugh. The fucking audacity. Her and only her.
And only for me.
‘What makes you ask?’ I ask, leaning against the console table.
‘Hope,’ she answers with a simple shrug. ‘That and I replayed this afternoon’s outpouring.’ To accompany her words, she pretends to vomit. ‘I didn’t leave you much space to say anything.’
‘There wasn’t a lot left for me to say. You made yourself very clear.’ I try to keep my words even, but they’re delivered with a hint of accusation. Why? I ask myself. Two minutes ago, I was ready to run to the ends of the earth, or Scotland, to make her see sense.
‘I was unfair. And afraid. And I’m sorry but, fair warning, I’m about to start babbling again. And I hope you’ll hear me out.’
I tilt my head rather than answer, not quite trusting myself as we stand facing each other, both still wearing our coats. It makes me wonder which of us is likely to bolt first.
‘I thought Barney and me were the same, but I’ve come to realise that’s not the case. It’s you and me who are similar. You talk about my self-deprecation, say how wearing it must be, but you’re no different. You just deal with it other ways. You don’t let anyone get close, because if they’re not close then they’re not able to reject you, right?’
I fold my arms across my chest and try not to sneer.
‘I must’ve read the situation wrong in the park somehow because it sure felt like fucking rejection.’
‘It was. Because I was frightened—I am frightened. I’m frightened now. Frightened that I’m going to offer you my heart and you’re going to laugh, and I’ll never feel whole again.’
‘Then why would you?’ There’s a waiver in my voice but this is something I have to know. Because after all the second guessing
‘Because you’re worth the risk. Because you were never the stand in, Archer. What you are is outstanding.’
I’m moving without even realising, my heart bursting and then missing a beat as my chest meets her hand.
‘That’s my big scary declaration, Archer. I’m all in. All yours. Meet me halfway?’
Her words are hesitant, her small hands pale as I bring her fingers to my mouth, kissing each of the fingertips.
‘I’m way ahead of you, sweetheart. And you know I don’t like to get there first.’ With a wink that might cost me a poke in the eye on any other day, I wrap her in my arms and kiss the hell out of her. I kiss away her fears and I kiss away mine. Kiss her like I plan to every day until the end of both our times.
‘Elvis! Will you stop sniffing my bum!’
Epilogue
