Merry Measure - Lily Morton Page 0,73

myself into the narrow hallway, inhaling the scent of garlic and tomatoes gratefully. Good. Jack’s cooking. I hang my coat on the coat stand, and, after toeing off my combat boots, I walk into the kitchen to find my beloved standing at the oven. Chris Rea’s “Driving Home for Christmas” is playing on the radio, and vanilla candles burn in their silver pots on the small table. The flames are reflected in the nearby window.

“Alright, love?” I ask.

He turns to smile at me. He’s recently showered, because his hair is still damp and he’s wearing grey sweats, thick socks, and a long-sleeved white T-shirt. He looks warm and rumpled and impossibly dear to me.

I wander over, lifting my face for a kiss which he immediately obliges. His lips are soft, and when I pull back, his face is relaxed and contented. It’s an expression he didn’t wear very often in the old days, but now he does all the time. My mum loves it, and every time she sees him, she squeezes his face and kisses him, saying that happy suits him.

And he glows. That’s the best word to describe Jack now. He glows with contentment. He loves the job, loves living in Amsterdam, and he loves me. According to him, he doesn’t need anything else.

And I feel the same. I’d wondered at the start whether this intense feeling was due to the crush I’d had on him. I worried that it was too intense and would die quickly. But it hasn’t. Instead, it’s grown stronger, and I’ve grown with it. My confidence has increased because he has such faith in me. His belief in me is so strong, I know I can do anything I set my mind to.

I’m still clumsy as fuck, but he just laughs and stops me falling. It’s the best metaphor for love that I know. And I love him back. I don’t look at him and see Jack Cooper with the perfect hair and body. I just see my Jack. The man who changes his clothes to put the bins out, who writes incredibly detailed shopping lists, and who has a secret passionate love affair with poetry.

“Sit down,” he says. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Ooh, is it meatballs?”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course, it is. I can take a hint as well as anyone. Especially when the hint is an answerphone message begging for this meal.” I laugh, and he eyes me. “Did you have a good meeting?”

I nod. I’d had a meeting with my boss this afternoon when the school closed for the holidays. “Clara says she loves the new subject ideas. She’s talking about making me Head of English when Rachel retires, which would mean a nice bump in pay.”

“Well, they’re lucky to have you,” he says loyally.

“You’ve got to say that.”

“I tell you the truth,” he says solemnly. “Always.”

“I know,” I say. It’s a knowledge that’s sweet.

Jack isn’t full of romantic patter, and big gestures are anathema to him. But he slays me frequently with his warm honesty. He doesn’t say things just to make me happy. He tells me things that benefit me because he wants the best for me. So, I trust him and do the same for him. With other men, I’d sometimes been guilty of saying things to please them or flatter them. It’s been a revelation and a relief to be so open and candid.

He shrugs. “I love you. It pays to tell the truth to my best friend.”

I reach for his hand and kiss his fingers. “I love you too,” I say fiercely.

We smile sappily at each other, and then I sit back and pour the wine. “So, you’re done for the holiday?”

He nods. “I’m all yours until January.”

I wrinkle my nose at him. “You’re always mine.”

He hums in agreement, and we start to talk about the upcoming visit of my family who are all stopping here for Christmas. They’re staying in a nearby hotel, but we’re cooking Christmas dinner. Or should I say, Jack is cooking. I will undoubtedly be breaking or spilling something, which is my contribution to most things. In fact, Tom had demanded to know who was cooking before he even accepted our invitation.

A few days after Christmas, Freddy and Diana, who are newly engaged, are coming to spend New Year’s with me and Jack and Tom and Bee. I’d wondered a year ago who Jack would find to complete their group, and I’m so happy it was me.

After dinner, I push him off