interrupting my thoughts, “so I hardly dare suggest this, but I could make you some pancakes, if you like. Or waffles?”
“Waffles?” I say, impressed. “Homemade waffles?”
“I like cooking. Although I might have to go and buy some ingredients—”
“Don’t buy anything,” I say firmly. “Let’s have whatever you’ve got. Toast. Or nothing. Just tea is fine.”
We make toast and take it back to bed, and breakfast turns into more sex and then lying in each other’s arms, neither of us speaking. And I want to stay here forever.
“I can’t,” I groan at last. “I can’t. I must go.”
“Same.” Seb sighs.
“And I’ll have to go home for some clothes,” I say, in sinking realization. “I must get up.”
I have a quick shower; then, while Seb’s in the bathroom, I get dressed and roam around his flat. I notice the good knives in the kitchen—he obviously really does like cooking—and look through his DVDs. Then I venture down the hall and come to another door. I can’t resist trying the handle, but it won’t open. It’s locked.
At once I feel guilty and intrusive for even trying to open it, and I hastily return to the living room. As Seb appears, his hair still damp, smelling of Molton Brown shower gel, I say casually, “So how big is the flat altogether?”
“It’s this, really,” says Seb, gesturing at the big room. “What you see.”
“Uh-huh.” I nod, but I can feel a tiny cord of tension in my chest. Why hasn’t he mentioned the other room?
And I know I should leave it, it’s none of my business…but I just can’t. I can’t leave things.
“Nice big living room for a one-bedroom flat,” I say conversationally. “It’s massive!”
“Oh, well, there is another room,” says Seb after a pause. “It was James’s.”
He flashes me a brief smile, and I wince in sympathy, because I’d already guessed. I suddenly remember that first conversation I heard in the coffee shop. Briony wanted to turn a room into a home gym, didn’t she? It must have been that room.
“It’s hard,” I say in a gentle voice. “I remember my mum clearing out my dad’s stuff.”
“Yes,” says Seb noncommittally, and his face closes up a little. And now I regret even bringing up the subject when everything’s so bright and perfect.
“Well…thank you,” I say, more lightheartedly. “Thank you for my hairbrush. Thank you for dinner. Thank you for…” I trail away, not needing to continue. He knows what I mean.
“Thank you.” Seb comes close and kisses my hair, playing with the strands, winding them round his fingers. “I always wanted to date an Olympic skater,” he adds. “You’re pretty sexy on the ice, did I mention that?”
“I shouldn’t have showed off,” I say, shaking my head. “I feel bad now. I was rude to Briony.”
“You feel bad?” says Seb incredulously. “Do not feel bad about her.” He swivels round so that we’re both facing a massive wall mirror, and he looks at my reflection, his eyes glinting, his chin resting on my head. “I don’t know who this girl is or how she came into my life,” he says, his voice deadpan, and I can’t help smiling.
“No idea.” I echo his tone. “It’s a mystery.”
There’s silence, and Seb’s expression becomes more serious.
“You are in my life?” he says.
“Yes,” I say, and my voice suddenly falters. “I hope so.”
“Well, me too.” He strokes my hair and his eyes crinkle at mine in the mirror. And right now his life is the only place I want to be.
Twenty-One
Days turn into a week, then two…and it seems as if I’ve always been in Seb’s life. I stay every night at his place, popping back now and then for another supply of clothes. I’m barely at home anymore. I’m barely conscious of the world. I’m intoxicated by Seb. By his body and his mind. His voice and his laugh. The touch of him in the morning; the sound of his breathing at night.
When I’m not with him, I’m yearning for him. Everything else has receded. All the problems I used to have seem a little blurry—nothing except Seb seems that important anymore.
I smile at customers who put items back in the wrong place. I laugh when Stacey arrives at work late. I find Greg’s idiosyncrasies funny. Why shouldn’t he show off his double-jointed thumbs to customers when they’re trying to pay? The world is a wonderful place. I skive off a little—not much, just the odd afternoon or morning—so I can meet Seb out