At least the universe has spared me the awfulness of terrorising Xavi. I’ve yet to wake him with my agitation. Instead, as soon as I’ve woken, I’ve immediately left the bed and showered. Then I’ve sat in the quiet downstairs smoking and holding tight to reality until my heart stopped hammering and the tremor in my fingers vanished. It’s not the routine an old therapist had advised me to use, but it works for me.
Xavier’s incredibly perceptive, especially where I’m concerned, so I know I’ll have to address this with him soon. I actually want to tell him now. I want to unburden my soul, and it’s the first time I’ve ever wanted to do that with someone. I love him so much, I hate keeping things from him.
But it’s my love that keeps me from talking about it. I don’t want those images in his head, and selfishly, I also don’t want him to look at me and see disappointment in those bright eyes. I want him to look at me with only love in his beautiful eyes.
“Alright?” he asks.
I look up to find him watching me, his expression mildly curious.
He smiles and the warmth pushes away the chilliness I feel, inside and out
“I’m fine as long as you’re smiling like that at me.” I pull him up and into a kiss. “Let’s go back to bed?”
“Oh, are you sleepy? Maybe you should have the bed to yourself.”
“Do you hate me? Isthatwhat this is about?” He starts to laugh, and I dig my finger into his ribs, hearing the laughter get louder. “Upstairs.”
Xavier
I come awake with a start. The covers have slid down, and I’m cold. I sit up and blink. Reuben’s side of the bed is empty. I slide my hands over the cold pillow. And has been for a while.
I look around as if he’s suddenly going to pop up. When that doesn’t happen, I grab my jeans and slide into them. Then I snatch the blanket from the bottom of the bed and wind it around my shoulders against the cold air.
When I come out of the bedroom, I hesitate. Where is he?
I check the spare bedrooms in case he’s had another nightmare and didn’t want to wake me. I huff crossly. As if I wouldn’t know he’s been having bad dreams. I’ve let him keep them to himself so far, but that ends tonight.
The bedrooms are empty. I move on to the bathroom. Empty. I even pop my head into the attic, but that’s the same.
Downstairs is a pool of silence with no sign of Reuben or Bernard in the lounge, dining room, or his study. Finally, I head into the kitchen and shiver at the cold draft coming from the open back door. I pause at the door and look out. It’s still dark, the sky a deep blue velvet, but the first trace of pink is lighting where the sky meets the sea.
I spot Reuben instantly. He’s standing at the bottom of the garden looking out to the Sound with Bernard sitting at his side. The dog is looking up at him, his head cocked attentively.Reuben’s body is a line of tension, and even as I watch, I see him raise his hand to his mouth and the red glow of a cigarette lights the gloom. I feel a streak of foreboding sizzle down my spine that’s become familiar this week. He should be happy and relaxed like he was when we went to bed, but how can he be when he’s dreaming again? He thinks he’s hidden it so well, but the man is the furthest thing from opaque to me.
It’s been such an amazing week full of laughter and kisses. At one point, I’d looked at his face, relaxed and full of a happy peace, and I instantly thought:Yes, this is finally you. Wefinallygot here.
This is why I have to pull him from the quicksand of the past.
I step towards him, and even though he’s undoubtedly heard my footsteps, he doesn’t turn around. Bernard stands up and bounds over to me. “Good boy,” I whisper, tugging at his ear. “Were you watching him for me?”
The puppy eyes me almost appraisingly, his eyes bright. Then he gives a soft bark and heads down the path and into the house where he is undoubtedly going to burrow his way under our duvet now that Reuben isn’t there to object.
I stride over to my bloke. “Reuben?” I say hesitantly.
He doesn’t reply for a few seconds, and I watch as he stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray on the patio table, the sparks glowing briefly in the darkness. When he turns almost reluctantly to me, I gasp. His face is wet with tears.
“Oh mygod, what’s the matter?” I say instantly. “Tell me.” He opens his mouth, but the words are lost when he gives a huge shiver. “You’ll catch your fucking death, you idiot. Come here. You’re so soddingstupidsometimes.”
Incredibly, he snorts. “Never go into the nursing profession. It would be a profound disappointment to youandthe patients.”
“Do as you’re told.” He turns obediently into my arms, and I wrap the blanket around him.
“You too,” he says stubbornly, and I give an aggrieved sigh and fold us both into the blanket. Then I wind my arms around his narrow waist. “What is it?” He shrugs. “A nightmare,” I guess.
He stiffens. “No.”
I give a huge, dramatic sigh. “You are the shittiest liar that ever lied.”
“Xavier.”
