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“I’m sorry.” I chuckle lightly.

“Worried about me hating Felix? Felix hating me?”

“Not hate. I just want you to get along.”

“Why wouldn’t we get along?”

“I guess it’s because I’m always waiting for the bad news. Everything feels so good right now, and I’m afraid things will turn to crap, like everything else does in my life,” I admit.

“It won’t,” he promises, sounding so sure of himself.

“I guess I’ll wait and see.”

“Right. This is no good. Get up.”

“I thought you said it was too early.”

“It is, but maybe that’ll work in our favour. Come on. Up we get,” he coaxes. He unwraps his body from around me, and then he slides out of bed. I laugh and follow his lead, reaching for his dressing gown that’s hanging on the bedroom door.

I head to the bathroom, smiling as I hear his footsteps behind me. Like other mornings, he sits on the edge of the bath and watches me as I shower. He never tries to get in with me, which is probably a sensible decision given it’s so tiny, but there’s still something mildly sensual about the way he looks at me as I wash. I know his eyes never leave my body during this morning ritual. He watches me in the same way I imagine a man might watch a woman doing a striptease on a stage or spinning around a pole, even if all I’m doing is scrubbing at my skin with shower gel and washing my hair.

I finish showering, leaving the water on so he can get in. Before he does, he wraps me in a large bath sheet and passes me a smaller towel for my hair. He kisses my forehead, then steps under the stream of water. I take his seat on the edge of the bath so I can watch him. I let my eyes follow the flow of water that sluices down his skin, marvel at how strong his body is. I’ve learnt that he doesn’t go to the gym but does a fitness routine most mornings, something he tries—and fails—to get me to join in with. I do like to watch, though. Sit-ups. Crunches. Push-ups. Things that keep him fit and strong, routines I’m content to watch every time he does it.

Now I watch as he scrubs his body and washes his hair. He hums slightly under the water. It makes me smile, though I prefer it when he sings. I watch as he finishes up, and all the time, my body tingles with the acknowledgement that this man is mine, and I will always be his.

***

It feels like we’re in the car for ages before Joseph announces that we’ve arrived at our destination. We stopped once on the trip, at a café where we ate the type of breakfast I’d never have at home—pancakes and bacon, waffles and syrup, crumpets with knobs of butter, washed down with multiple mugs of coffee.

I’ve been paying attention to the details on the road signs, so I know we’re by the sea, but I haven’t been here before—not this particular stretch of coastline, at least. I used to come to beaches like this with my parents, before life went to shit. We used to do a lot of things as a family. Weekend trips to stately homes. Days at amusement parks. Visits to museums. Fun activities like pottery painting, summer walks by the riversides, adventures in corn mazes, bike rides, and pub lunches. When I was nine, all that evaporated into smoke, and it’s a rare occasion that I allow myself to think about it. I can’t decide if it hurts more because I did experience it all, only to have it taken away, or whether it would hurt more to never have experienced it in the first place.

I take a breath and remind myself to keep my mind in the present. I’m almost free. I’ve got my A-level results, top marks in all my subjects. Felix is back soon, and I’ll be moving in with him. I have Joseph. Everything else, I can leave in the past.

“Ready?” Joseph asks. He gives me a small smile, and I wonder if he can read on my face the little tumble of turmoil I just had, remembering a past that was once bright.

“Ready. Any specific plans for the day?”

We both get out of the car, and he quickly walks around the front so he’s next to me, taking my hand to hold.

“Let’s stretch our legs and blow off some cobwebs,” he suggests.

I nod and fall into step with him. He walks with the confidence of somebody who knows his way around the area, or at least feels confident they can find a good route to somewhere they want to go.

“So, tell me why you think Felix and I might not get along. Is there anything I need to know about him that could polarise us? He’s not a vegan who’ll be upset knowing I eat meat, is he? An environmentalist who’ll be upset my car isn’t environmentally friendly? Somebody who thinks the movies are always better than the books? Because maybe then we’ll need to have words.” Joseph fires suggestions at me, tone light and amused, making me laugh.

“He eats meat, but he does try to do Veganuary. He is a firm believer in recycling, upcycling, and trying not to consume more than necessary, but given he’s spent most of the last year on flights and trains travelling around the world, I don’t think he’s particularly justified being upset about your car. He firmly believes the book is better, though he’ll begrudgingly admit that for some, the film is almost as good as the book.”

“Are you worried he’ll judge about how we met?” he asks. Now the tone is slightly less jaunty, and I find myself taking a deep breath.

“I might not have told Felix all the details,” I admit.

His pace slows, and he glances at me.

“He doesn’t know I was teaching at the school?” he guesses.

I shake my head. “He knows that’s where we met. I just haven’t really told him yet about what I was doing. My nights out. Where I would sleep when nights were rough,” I elaborate. I wait for him to judge me about not telling my best friend, wondering if the judgement will be worse because I already feel it in myself.

He squeezes my hand. “He’ll understand.”