I nod, so impressed that he’s spoken about me to his mum. Obviously, they’re close. I can’t imagine what that’s like. “That’s all true. She’s two.”
“Ach, bless. That’s a lovely age.”
I pull out my phone, pleased to have had such a warm reception, and I’m always eager to talk about Carys to people that matter. And Dani matters. A lot.
“She’s the spitting image of you.” Dani pats my arm.
And we talk about the journey up and about Carys, and my life back in London. The funny thing is, it doesn’t feel weird at all, like I’m visiting family. And I suppose I am. I’m so damned lucky that she’d welcome me after what poor Ben went through at my parents’ place. Their home isn’t grand, but it’s well cared for, and loved, and I can feel that here.
When Ben arrives late, calling his hello from the entry, I excuse myself and beeline to see him.
His cheeks are pink with cold, his striped scarf around his neck, green hat freshly tugged off, leaving his blond hair looking especially wild. And he’s so damn gorgeous.
“Ben.” I brighten at the sight of him.
His face lights up.
“Come here.” I tug him close with the scarf still draped around his neck. When we kiss, he’s heaven, his mouth soft and delicious, his lips cool against the heat of mine.
“Mmm.” He slaps my arse for good measure before we straighten at last, leaving us both spinning.
“You’ve met Mum.”
I nod. “She hasn’t fed me to any bears.”
“Any shortbread so far?” he teases.
“Not even a single piece,” I lament.
“I heard that, Charlie,” Dani calls, though I hear the smile in her voice. “Both of you, quit making out back there and have some tea.”
We grin at each other and steal another kiss. And it’s thrilling to take his hand in mine and join her while Ben has a late meal.
And it’s later still by the time we retreat to his childhood bedroom for the night. Thankfully there’s a double bed, which means no one—me—has to sleep on the floor. And Ben shuts the door and turns to face me.
We stand there, taking in the sight of each other, excited and nervous and everything at once.
“I came to see you,” I say unnecessarily. “I needed to see you.”
God. Lame.
Ben nods, giving me a fleeting smile. The moment’s passed for a hug or kiss as greeting, and we’re instead left with the weird whatever this is that hangs between us. Emotion is caught raw in the air around us, fragile.
“Cheers,” says Ben. Yesterday’s question is in his eyes.
“I missed you,” I whisper. “Last night. And the night before that. And the one before too.”
He swallows hard.
“I didn’t sleep last night,” I confess. “Thinking of you. Of Emily and Carys. Of my life. Of the future after uni finishes.”
“Sounds…sounds like a lot.”
“Yeah, but I needed to have some space to think. To figure out for certain what I want. What’s possible. Dealing with the idea of being on the edge of your fame, and what that might mean for Carys and Emily, too.”
Ben shifts, hands in his leather jacket pockets. “The fame thing, though—Charlie, you know that’s not real, right? Though the paparazzi are a problem now and again, I won’t lie to you about that. But I can help and so can my team.”
We’re still standing. Today’s jumper is moss green mohair. Softer than air by the look of it. It’s stunning, just like him. Another of his creations, I’m sure.
