“No.”
I wait for him to say something else, but he never does what I predict. Letting go of my hand, he reaches up to grab the neckline of his jumper and pulls it off. He drops it on the sand at my feet, his movement as graceful as ever. Then he kicks off his shoes and socks and unzips his jeans.
They fall to his feet, and I think I inhale my own spit because he’s not wearing underwear and is now standing completely starkers on a beach. I want to look around to check we’re still alone, but I can’t drag my eyes away from him. An army could march across the beach, and I wouldn’t pay them any attention.
He’s put on some much-needed weight since the hospital, but there still isn’t a spare inch on him. He just looks sleeker and healthier, the old hollows in his cheeks gone and his skin glowing with health. After dropping his jeans onto the pile of discarded clothes, he glances up at me.
“You are so very fucking beautiful,” I say softly.
I thought the words would be lost to the wind, but he hears them and his eyes brighten and flare. Then he shivers, and the moment is gone.
“Fucking hell, it’scold,” he shouts. “Best to get it over with, yes?”
I start to laugh as he turns and races into the waves, his long legs jumping over them. He looks like a Viking with that long blond hair, the stubble and those blue,blueeyes, and I’m hypnotised.
He dives into the water, giving me a flash of his beautiful arse, and then comes up, water cascading over his body. “Holyshitballs,” he shouts, breaking me from my reverie. I laugh as he gathers handfuls of water, dashing them at me, and I dodge them easily. “Shit, it’s freezing. Why didn’t you warn me?”
“It’s October. I thought you’d kind of guess. I’ll just be up here,” I call. “Sitting on the warm sand.”
“What?” His mouth drops open in outrage, and I can’t help my laughter. “Fuck off. Get in here now.”
“Oh, okay, seeing as you’re asking so nicely.”
I cast my eyes around, and the beach is still empty. Bernard is standing by the edge of the sea, looking like he’s contemplatingeither rescuing Xavi or joining him. Then he obviously gives up on the idea and returns to chasing the waves.
I kick off my shoes and socks and then quickly strip. There’s none of the inherent grace that Xavier possesses, mainly because it might be sunny, but the wind is cold. When I’m naked, I beat my chest and dash into the waves with a Tarzan yell. He doesn’t get the chance to snark at me, because I tackle him into the waves. We go under and pop back up quickly.
“You unmitigated wanker,” he shouts, spitting out water and starting to laugh.
I give a huge shudder. “I always forget how cold it is.”
His eyes narrow. “Oh, really? Let me remind you, then.”
I gasp as he dashes water in my face and then I throw myself at him, taking him under the waves again.
We come up laughing, and I push away, cutting through the sea in a flashy crawl. “Swim,” I shout. “You’ll get warm quicker.”
He joins me, and we swim for a while, racing each other, feeling the warmth run through our bodies and keeping a wary eye on Bernard and the beach.
Eventually, though, the cold gets the better of us. “Let’s go in,” I shout, my teeth chattering, and he nods. I stand when I feel the sand beneath my toes, and he joins me.
A shiver runs through me, and I shove my wet hair back from my face. “Let’s get dry and go and?—”
He grabs my arm.
“You okay?” I ask, surprised. “You haven’t got a cramp, have you?” His eyes are wide, and he’s gone very pale. “Xavi?” I ask, panic stirring. “What is it?” Oh my god, is he having a relapse? I grab his shoulders. “Xavi?”
I follow his gaze to my chest and freeze. On the chain gleaming in the autumn sunshine is my wedding ring. My hand comes up automatically, and my fingers enclose it as if to hide it from his eyes.
He pulls my fingers gently away and lifts it on his palm, the chain stretching between us. “Is this your wedding ring?” he says hoarsely.
I swallow hard, but there’s no point denying it. “Yes.”
“Y-You didn’t throw it away?”
He blinks as I snatch the ring protectively from him and let it drop back against my chest, a familiar, beloved weight. “Never,” I snap. “It’s my wedding ring, for fuck’s sake.”
“You saved it all these years?”
