Laurence and I finally break our kiss, coming up for air, and he gazes at me. ‘I can’t believe we’re actually together,’ he says. ‘It’s like all my Christmases have come at once.’
I smile lazily back. ‘Same here, plus Easters and birthdays.’
‘Why the hell did I wait so long to tell you how I felt?’ he asks. ‘Just think of all that time we wasted.’
‘I know. But maybe it wouldn’t have worked if we’d got together any earlier,’ I muse. ‘Maybe we needed to have those other relationships to be able to appreciate what we have now.’
‘That’s why I love you,’ Laurence says. ‘Because you talk so much sense.’
‘I try my best.’
‘And because you’re gorgeous,’ he adds with a laugh, pulling me in for another kiss. He breaks it off abruptly and holds my arms. ‘But seriously, message if you’re going to go out without telling me. I was worried when you didn’t answer my texts.’
I ease myself from his grip and plonk myself down on to the sofa, wishing he’d drop the subject. ‘You were still asleep, and I was wide awake, so I thought I’d nip over to fetch the lamp. Daisy talked me into staying for a quick breakfast and I didn’t see your texts. Anyway, I’m back now.’
He folds his arms across his chest and frowns. ‘Yes, but that’s not the point. I was worried.’
‘Okay, well, sorry, I guess.’
‘Oh, youguess?’ His expression is light-hearted, but there’s a firmness behind his words.
‘No, you know what I mean.’ I fix him with my most winning smile. ‘I’m sorry you were worried.’
‘Okay, so next time you’ll wait till I get up, right?’
‘Sure. Or I’ll text you so you don’t worry.’
He sits next to me and kisses my right eyebrow and then my left. ‘Thank you.’
I lean back against the cushions as Laurence gets up and moves over to the kitchen to make coffee. These little flashes of his possessiveness cause sparks of worry in my chest. He’s not like this all the time, and whenever I call him out on it he laughs it off, so I hope this is just new-relationship nerves and that he’ll settle down once he’s reassured I’m all in. When he realises I’m not going anywhere.
Because this controlling version of Laurence is not the man I fell in love with.
This version of him is nothing like the laid-back best friend I’ve had for years.
No.
This Laurence feels different.
Chapter Forty
NOW
I slot two slices of bread in the toaster and wander listlessly around Laurence’s living room. I still think of it ashisliving room –hisflat – despite having moved in three months ago. Mainly because there’s hardly any of my stuff here, aside from my clothes and toiletries and a grand total of three knick-knacks – my white fluffy rug that lies by my side of the bed, my pineapple lamp in the lounge (Laurence begrudgingly said it could stay) and the huge wavy-armed cheese plant I’ve had since uni.
Laurence has suffered these three interlopers with bad grace. He liked his flat exactly the way it was. I always knew that about him, so I’m not sure why I was surprised and a little disappointed that he was reluctant for me to put my stamp on it. He’s lived here for years, so I’ve been thinking that maybe next year we could look for a new place. A home that we can decorate together.
I haven’t mentioned the idea of moving just yet. I’m waiting for the right moment. Although, the more time goes by, the more I’m inclined to think that he won’t be keen on the idea. Especially as the spare room has been set up as the office where he sees his clients. I can certainly understand that it would be quite a hassle to move his place of business. Anyway, Laurence tried to explain thatthe rest of the apartment had to exude the same level of calm as his office, in case any of his clients happened to glance in. I teased him when he said that: ‘Yes, heaven forbid they catch sight of a cheese plant.’ I grinned. ‘That could set them back months.’
He hadn’t seen the funny side and told me not to joke about his clients’ mental health. I hadn’t meant it in that way. I’d just been trying to lighten the mood.
On Friday evening, Laurence left to go on a four-day cycling trip to South Wales with Martin. Those two have become close buddies since Martin moved in with Daisy. The four of us spend quite a lot of time together now. Daisy is slowly coming around to the idea of me and Laurence being an item, but she hasn’t completely embraced it yet. I still catch her frowning at us when she thinks I’m not looking.
Normally, if I have a Sunday to myself with nothing planned, my favourite thing to do is to rearrange the furniture, or redecorate. Maybe go to a car-boot sale and search for interesting home decor – plants or crockery, perhaps a quirky piece of art. But with Laurence’s aversion to changing anything in the flat, I’ll have to restrain myself.
I’m bored.
Daisy’s got a shift at the pharmacy today and Miriam has gone to a family lunch. Even my parents are away this weekend – Dad got some VIP tickets through work to a rugby game in France. They’ve flown over there with Elizabeth and Graham. Laurence and I were also invited, and I thought it would have been a great opportunity for Laurence to bond with my family in his new role as ‘boyfriend’ rather than ‘friend’. But, of course, we couldn’t go because of the cycling trip. I’m starting to think I should have gone without him.
