“What is this?” I ask in disbelief.
Connor kisses my cheek as he stands behind me. I can sense his smug grin as his lips move down my neck, sending tingles through my body.
“It’s a fort,” he says simply, between kisses.
“I can see it’s a fort.”
“It’s a blanket fort.” His hands slide down my arms and weave around my waist, pulling my back flush to his chest.
“It’s the best blanket fort in the history of blanket forts,” I sigh, half distracted by his lips and half astonished at the enormous structure taking over Connor’s living room. “It’s really more of a blanket castle.”
“Your parents always built you a blanket fort when you were sad. I thought you might need a little nostalgic comfort tonight.”
I turn in Connor’s arms so we’re nose-to-nose. “You shouldn’t have done all this for me…” I stop when I see Connor’s disapproving expression. Not wanting him to threaten to take my beautiful fort away, I don’t finish my self-critical thought. “I love you,” I say instead.
“I love you so much,” he echoes almost instantly, crashing his mouth to mine.
I wrap my arms around his neck as he pulls me impossibly closer. Too soon, though, it’s over as he pulls his head back and looks down at me lovingly.
“Do you want to see the best bit?” He grins at me like a child at Christmas.
“Absolutely!”
Connor loosens his grip on my waist and walks to the other side of the room to turn off the lights. Then he kicks off his trainers and disappears into the fort.
Hundreds of tiny twinkling lights fill the room with a warm glow. The sight takes my breath away. I slowly make my way towards the entrance of the fort and remove the trainers Connor bought me to replace the ones I water-logged, putting them neatly to one side. Then I crawl through the blankets to join Connor inside.
He’s used white sheets to make the majority of the structure, but my favourite cashmere blanket is one of many inside to wrap up in. There are baskets lining the sides with bottles of drinks and packets of snacks, and in the corner, I notice a laptop. He’s thought of everything. When I finally tear my eyes away from the fort and look at Connor, I realise he looks upset.
I lie down next to him. “What’s wrong?”
I curl up on my side so I’m looking at him, and he turns to face me. He doesn’t immediately answer but shuffles closer and pulls my top leg so it’s intertwined with his and starts stroking my hair.
When he does eventually speak, he sounds broken. “I nearly lost you. Again.”
“I’m here,” I say guiltily.
“But you nearly weren’t!” Connor snaps. I flinch at his uncharacteristic tone. “I’m sorry, I just keep imagining how differently this could have ended, and I can’t handle even thinking about the alternative to you being here right now. What if I hadn’t panicked when I spoke to you on the phone and hadn’t decided to run to find you? What if that man hadn’t seen you and pulled you onto his boat? What if that mum on the beach didn’t know first aid? You’d be gone, Tilly.”
I would have been. And that would have been for the best,wouldn’t it?
“Can I be honest?” he asks quietly, one hand still stroking my hair, the other running softly up and down my thigh.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak without crying.
“Sometimes I worry that this is a dream. That I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone, lost to the waves.”
I try to reassure him. “I’m alive. I’m here.”
“You’re here,” he repeats, reassuring himself. “Stay with me. Please.”
“Where else would I stay?” There I go, deflecting again.
Connor scrunches his eyes in frustration. “No, I don’t mean stay in the house, I mean keep living. Stay with me.”
I want to stay with him in our bubble so badly that I agree. “I’ll stay.”
Connor scans my face, seemingly looking for signs that I’m bluffing, but when he finds none, he leans over and kisses me. He starts softly, lovingly, his hands stroking my face and hair, his lips barely meeting mine with each kiss.
