I scoff. “Five.”
“Five?! Oh, brilliant.” He laughs good-humouredly. “I get it. That’s absolutely the right way to do it if you want to avoid getting burnt.” Then he adds, “I bet you’re something else to date.” But he doesn’t say it with the sort of burning tone he usually uses. It’s more inquisitive.
“Stop trying to change the conversation… Why did you date Sara?”
“Why are you making such a thing about it? She’s an attractive, wealthy woman. She made the rules very clear from the start. I knew where I stood. We made each other feel good for a time. It was fun. There isn’t much else to it.”
“Did your sisters know about her?”
He nearly chokes on the water he’s just sipped from his bottle. “Why on earth would I tell them that?”
“I’m guessing you didn’t because you knew they wouldn’t approve.”
“Of course they wouldn’t. I wouldn’t approve if roles were reversed, but it’s none of their business and same goes for me with them. We’re adults, Felicity. You’ve never done anything remotely controversial?”
I look away, forcing the heated feeling inside of me to settle. I can’t work myself out. There are butterflies flighting in my stomach at the thought of James sleeping with this woman. And not just any woman, but Sara, an older, highly successful woman at that. There’s also an ingrained sadness that James’ experience of Michael is so extremely different to mine.
“Your turn,” he says again.
I groan, taking another sip.
“And you need to make it better than mine. I want juicy gossip, Felicity.”
“Alright,” I say, accepting his challenge. “How’s this? I haven’t been with anyone in over two years. I’ve totally fallen off the horse. Sometimes I think the longer this goes on, the more impossible it will be to get back on.”
I’m looking ahead as I say it. A weird moment of silence occurs where I wonder if I took his challenge of providing juicier gossip too far and actually just stepped right into one of his manipulative traps. Warmth rises slowly up my neck. That’s when I feel the bottle move in my hands. James is carefully removing it from my grip. I give him a worried glance. Our eyes collide with fire as a small smirk rises on the side of his lips.
“At least now I know why you don’t get drunk at work dos.”
Oh, god. I throw my head back, crying out with laughter. He joins in too. It’s true. I don’t drink at work dos. Or if I do, it’s minimal. I don’t trust myself not to act like a prat or say something I’ll later regret. When I finally glance at him, he’s looking at me with a fresh curiosity. It’s like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to figure out.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Please don’t ever repeat it. I’m just in this phase of my life where I’m incredibly fussy. It’s strange because I finally like myself and actually only want to sleep with decent people. I feel like I deserve that. Quality over quantity, you know?”
Now I’m all hot again. Who knew I’d go from a shivering wreck to a boiling, sweaty mess so quickly. I’m sure the fire isn’t helping. Maybe I have a fever. Does it work that quickly?
Oh balls. It’s James. He’s making me all clammy and bothered with his messy hair and relaxed boy-next-door look. Like this, out here in the wilderness, he’s completely my type. And now he’s looking at me like it’s for the first time.
We’re quiet for a while, sipping our waters and eating another protein bar each. The flames are successfully keeping the midges at bay. And when the light has completely faded, James lets the fire die down a bit before we start to climb into the tent again.
“You know we can zip our sleeping bags together, right?”
I’m glad it’s dark when he says this because I can’t help the smile blooming on my lips. He wants to sleep with me. Me! If nothing else, that’s a compliment. Even if he does mean literal sleeping and nothing more.
“You don’t have to,” he adds when I don’t respond right away.
“Actually,” I say, pinching myself. I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. This morning I swore I’d never allow it to happen again. He’s just so warm. It’s like I have no control over the words that come out of my mouth. “I think that’s a good idea.”
Chapter Twelve
Something makes me stir. Amongst the night creatures going about their business, I manage to ignore much of the twig-snapping sounds of nearby animals inspecting our tent and fire. This time, however, I’m sure there’s a thud or a cry. I roll over, reaching for James. His warmth is missing but I’m too sleep-drunk to worry myself with his disappearance, especially as the patter of raindrops on the tent is so soothing. I deflate into another deep sleep.
This one takes me somewhere new. Or maybe somewhere old. I’m in a garden enclosed with high hedgerows. There’s a large oak tree in the middle, sucking the moisture out of the lawn, its roots weaving through the ground like snakes turned to stone. I realise where I am. I turn around to see the red-brick exterior of my childhood home.
The sun beats down on my face when I look up at the perfect blue sky. I see how the leaves are turned yellow as the rays of light catch them and turn them opaque. The smell of barbeque wafts over from the patio that wraps around the side of the house. Dad stands with his back to me, handling the food with utensils, looking at peace in being exactly where a dad ought to be. There’s a hissing sound as something drips onto the coals. His polo top isn’t straight at the collar. He’s got a line of sweat running from his neck down to his hips. His hair is darker, like mine. I squint, looking for his silver hairs, but they’re not there.
A warm sense of homeliness comes over me as I walk across the lumpy lawn to the blue hammock Dad bought me, and perch there, watching the afternoon unfold. The recently watered grass glitters in the sunlight. Dad doesn’t look at me, his full concentration absorbed in the task at hand. That’s when Mum appears at the garden doors dressed in summery dungarees over a flowery top. Her hair, blonde but thick like mine, has been tied back with a scrunchie. She’s got a salad bowl in one hand, plates in another. The most noticeable difference is her face. She’s at ease, content with her surroundings. I’ve not seen her like this in so very long.
“Help me set up, darling,” she asks me in her merry voice.
