clamps down some more, encouraging me to spill. His eyes are close to mine, curiosity on hesitation. I’m holding back – a crazy thing to do given where we’ve found ourselves this morning. All of the confessions, the revelations, the feelings. ‘I feel light,’ I say again, but this time he doesn’t make any sarcastic wisecrack. He just holds me suspended above him by the tops of my arms, my hair spilling around his head, forming a kind of private veil around us. ‘Like I’m floating.’
He holds onto his smile, keeping it back, but his angel eyes are firing off sparks of happiness. ‘Go on,’ he prompts, desperate for more. It’s all reassurance to him, like I’m confirming what he’s feeling himself. That it’s okay to love me.
‘I feel like I’m lost in a maze,’ I whisper, my gaze falling to his lips, seeing them parted and wet, full and ready to taste. ‘And I have no desire to find my way out.’ I look up at him when I hear a tiny hitch of his breath, seeing his eyes have glazed slightly. He gets it. He knows just how I feel.
‘Like every corner you turn is a surprise?’ he murmurs, swallowing. ‘Like you can’t figure out if each step is an exciting stumble or a petrifying stagger?’
I bite my bottom lip. Yes, that’s exactly it.
‘Like,’ he blinks slowly, keeping his eyes shut for a few moments, before dragging them open and flexing his fingers, releasing me a little before squeezing, as if to reinforce his point. ‘Like none of that shit matters as long as you’re stumbling and staggering with me?’
I’m done. I can’t hold back any more. The lump in my throat swells and chokes me, and a drop of my emotions trickles down my cheek. It’s relief, and I nod, unable to speak through the bulge that’s blocking my throat. This is everything. This is acceptance, and it looks good on him. He smiles, a true happy smile, and releases my arms, letting me fall onto his chest.
‘Me too, princess.’ He pushes his mouth to my ear, kissing me hard and squeezing me until I think my bones might crumble under his power. ‘Me too.’
My cheek rests on his shoulder, my upper arms sprawled above, encasing his head. I feel small in his hold. Safe in his hold. I shouldn’t entrust my heart to this man, but the fact that he’s entrusting his to me makes this even ground. And now I’m trusting him to protect me from his debasing world.
‘Eleanor?’ he says, turning his face into my neck and breathing in. I hum, and he goes on. ‘Will you be my girlfriend?’
I feel his grin stretch against my neck, and, I swear, I smile the widest I ever have. ‘I will.’
‘And Eleanor?’
I hum again, and this time he pulls himself free from my neck and gazes at me. ‘I love you.’ His voice is barely a murmur, hardly heard.
But it’s the loudest thing that anyone has ever said to me.
And the most significant.
Because Becker Hunt said it.
Chapter 8
Becker left me to snooze while he took a shower, and I don’t think my secret smile left my face the whole time that I listened to the water raining down on him. After smothering my face in kisses that had me giggling like I’ve never giggled before, then flipping me over and giving my arse a welcome-back slap, he dressed and left me in his bed.
That smile of mine was still with me while I showered and dressed, but it slowly dropped away with each step I took down the stone staircase. And now it’s gone completely, and I’m sitting on the bottom step, spinning my phone in my hand, a little nervous. I can hear activity in the kitchen from two old people that I can’t wait to see . . . but also can.
It’s only just occurred to me, after leaving the blissfulness of Becker’s apartment, that I have no idea what to say to Mrs Potts and old Mr H. What has Becker told them? Do they know why I wasn’t in work yesterday? My thumb replaces my lip for something to nibble on, and I peek down the corridor to the kitchen door, wondering what to do.
My phone jumps to life, ringing in my hand, and my arm jolts upward in fright, sending it sailing through the air. ‘Shit,’ I curse, scrambling to gather it up when it lands a few feet away. Lucy’s