Page 83 of While I’m Still Here

“Are you okay?” I ask Colin.

Colin takes a moment to answer. “I have learned several things about myself this afternoon.”

“Jealous?”

“Very. But,” he continues before I can apologise. “I meant what I said before. I’m not going to make your life smaller because I’m frightened you’ll discover something outside of me that you want. If that’s Danny fucking Clarke, then go for it.”

“I will.”

“And Bea?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

I close my eyes. “I love you too.”

When I hang up, Danny is holding two mugs, the teabags still dry inside. He’s staring at me with that same raw, terrified expression. “So,” he says. “What now?”

Outside the kitchen window, the fire escape clanks in the wind. Somewhere in the building, Sarah has probably found her milk.

I straighten my dress, zip it up, and smooth my hair. “Now,” I say, “we go back to work.”

Danny doesn’t move. He stands there, teabags dangling, looking at me like I’ve just handed him a grenade with the pin pulled. “Back to work,” he repeats. “Just like that.”

“Just like that.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, then wince at the tremor in my fingers. “Unless you’ve got a better suggestion?”

He sets the mugs down. They clink against the Formica, too loud. “I’ve got about a hundred suggestions. Most of them involve this counter again, and possibly the filing cabinet in the storage room.”

I laugh, but it’s thinner now. The high is fading, leaving something raw and exposed in its wake. I can feel the ghost of his hands on my hips, the ache settling into my bones like a bruise I want to keep.

“Danny.” I reach out, touch his wrist. His pulse is still racing. “That was⁠—”

“Incredible,” he finishes. “Terrifying. Stupid. Incredible.”

“All of the above.”

He catches my hand, lifts it to his mouth, and presses a kiss to my knuckles. The gesture is so unexpectedly tender that my chest tightens.

“I know.”

He holds my gaze for a beat too long, then lets go. Turns back to the kettle. Flicks it on.

The rumble of boiling water fills the silence.

I check my phone. No messages from Colin. Just the quiet assurance of his love still ringing in my ears.

Danny pours, hands steady now. “Milk?”

“Please.”

He opens the fridge. The milk carton is exactly where Sarah must have left it—on the top shelf, three-quarters full.

My phone goes off.

COLIN

A little jealous