“Always thought she could have scooted over on that door, though…” he says, passing me a small box of truffles.
“I know, right? But still…it’s up there in the top ten for me.”
This leads us on to a conversation about our favourite movies ever, then the TV shows we watched as kids, then to our first gigs, and our first holidays without parents, and a heated debate about whether Ross and Rachel were really on a break inFriends. As ever, we never seem to run out of things to say to each other – the chatter flowing naturally from one subject to another, punctuated by frequent laughter and comfortable pauses where we eat and drink, then pick up the thread again as though we’ve never stopped.
He’s just finished telling me an anecdote about his brother, Josh, and the night he got locked in the local pub and had to be rescued by police through the cellar hatch, and I am crying again – this time in amusement. Larry has settled in a small ball in the middle of the blankets, and I have finished my latest Starshine Special. The snowman is still going great guns, beams of beauty swirling around us. I look at Jake, and am struck by how much I have missed this – these simple pleasures, the straightforward sharing of time and self with another human being. It has been, quite literally, years since I felt this way.
“Thank you,” I say again, feeling suddenly serious.
“You’re very welcome. It’s your birthday.”
“Not just for this,” I say, gesturing around me at the picnic and the cave, “for everything. I know we usually avoid anything too deep and meaningful – henceforth known as D&M – but thank you. Ever since I arrived, you’ve been…amazing, and I am so grateful.”
He smiles, and it is a killer smile – slow and steady and intense. The kind of smile that says more than words ever could.
“Again, you’re welcome,” he replies. “And I did get you a gift as well. I didn’t know if it’d be too much, if—”
“I’d run screaming from the caves in terror?”
“Yeah. Too much D&M seems to have that effect on both of us. But…well, would you like to see it?”
“Duh,” I reply, widening my eyes at him. “Of course I would!”
He nods, and pulls a small package from his jacket pocket. He passes it over, and I find myself holding a black velvet pouch. Mark has bought me jewellery before, and it’s always come in fancy boxes and he usually ‘accidentally’ left the receipt in there just so I’d know how expensive it was – ironically, I didn’t even think of packing any of it when I fled. As with so much I left behind that day, it just wasn’t me any more, if it ever was.
This, though, somehow feels even more magical, more precious. I take my time, examining it in my hands, finally pulling open the drawstring at the top.
A necklace slides out into my palm, and I lift it up in the shadowy light. At first it looks like a pretty but ordinary item of jewellery, the kind you could see in a shop window in any town – a long silver chain, and dangling from it some kind of dark material fashioned into a pear-shaped drop pendant. It takes the snowman to show me just how special it is, and I gasp in delight as the illumination criss-crosses over the stone, and it bursts into life.
I hold it up, and as the light flickers across it, it is transformed from black into a ball of colour. Deep reds and purples, streaks of gold, all shining in my palm.
“It’s one of Daisy’s pieces,” Jake says, looking from the necklace to my face as though he is trying to decide if I like it or not.
“Jake, I absolutely love it – it’s the most wonderful present I’ve ever been given! It’s even better than the Heart of the Ocean!”
I fumble around trying to put it on, and he comes closer, positioning himself behind me to help. His fingers brush my skin as he lifts my hair, and I feel the warmth of his breath against my neck as he fastens the clasp. It is an innocent but almost unbearably intimate act.
When he’s done, he doesn’t move away, and I lean back, nestling myself against his chest. I feel him take a surprised breath, and his arms wrap around me. We sit, entwined, surrounded by the shine of the caves, serenaded by the distant crash of the waves.
“This,” I finally say, turning my eyes towards his, “has been an almost perfect day.”
“Almost?” he whispers, holding me closer.
“Almost.”
We don’t speak, because the time for words has passed. He leans down, and kisses me. It is a glorious kiss, tender and passionate and full of the promise of so much more. It is a kiss that makes my dream encounters with this man seem tame in comparison, and I am trembling in his arms by the time it ends.
Now, I think, pulling him down for more, it is perfect.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
The next morning, I wake up in Jake’s arms, in Jake’s room, in Jake’s world. I am momentarily disorientated, taking in the deep blue walls and the dark wood furniture and the detritus of another person’s life.
I look at Jake, deeply asleep, his hair falling across his face, and sigh. Damn the man, he’s even perfect when he’s in a coma.
Larry is curled up at the bottom of the bed, and wags his tail when he sees me moving. I gently extricate myself from Jake, get dressed, and sneak away. It is stupid o’clock, just before 6am, and I can probably make it out without being spotted by any of Connie’s drones.
I allow myself one more glance at Jake before I leave, relishing the sight of his tanned skin, the curves and straight lines of muscle. I find myself blushing at the memory of the night before: the complete abandon, the way any inhibitions I ever had were shredded away beneath his touch.
