stopped breathing while he talked, but broken ceiling fans push air with more purpose than my lungs did.
“I tried dating other people, and it felt so insincere, like I didn’t really mean it. And I didn’t. Because I am, as ever, completely, utterly, irrevocably in love with you,” Nick said, and as he quoted himself from Windsor, the tips of his ears began to vibrate, that old embarrassed tic I hadn’t seen since Oxford. “I don’t even know if you want to hear all this, and I’m certain this is the worst possible time for me to be telling you. But I learnt from you that sometimes just blurting things out leads to the best outcome.”
He closed his eyes. “And there’s one more thing I need to confess,” he said. “Which is that I believe I’ve burnt the lasagna.”
It was then that I noticed the acrid smell of charred tomato sauce floating through the flat.
“My father is dead, and you torched my dinner so that we could have sex,” I said, after he’d turned off the oven and crawled back into bed. “If you’re not being sincere, things may take an ugly turn. You know how I am when I get low blood sugar.”
Nick pressed his hands against his eyes and laughed. “Always so glib.”
“Okay, how’s this for sincere,” I said. “I am, as ever, completely, utterly, irrevocably in love with you, too.”
He sat up and pushed a stray strand of my hair behind my ear, such a familiar, comforting gesture, one he’d done a thousand times before and I never thought he’d do again. “Please don’t feel you have to say it back,” he said. “I just couldn’t not tell you any longer.”
“I have never wanted to say anything more,” I said, and it wasn’t until he tenderly wiped them that I realized my cheeks were wet again. It is amazing how many tears the human body can produce once it gets going. “I love you. And I am so, so sad. Those two things can be equally true. I learned that the night we broke up.”
“I went about us all wrong, Bex,” he said ruefully. “I took the wrong lesson away from Mum. The press might’ve been the trigger, but she was a loaded gun.” His eyes were bright with feeling. “Every day, I’ve thought that if I could do it over, I wouldn’t be so scared. I would tell Barnes and Marj and my father to get stuffed, and I wouldn’t keep you a secret from anyone. God, that last time I kissed you, I didn’t even do it properly.”
“Well,” I said, choking up again, “it turns out it wasn’t the last time. We got another chance.”
“We got another chance,” he affirmed. “And I want you to know I don’t intend to waste it. But most of all, there is something else I want, and it doesn’t involve any more talking.”
* * *
My feelings whipsawed between sadness and euphoria during those few days Nick and I had together before the Navy reclaimed him, but he didn’t seem to mind. He took care of me. He let me cry. He kept me fed, and hydrated, and brought me frozen spoons for my puffy eyes; mostly, we spent more than half our time in bed and the rest of it doing only the essentials so that we could get back into bed—as if we owed it to ourselves to recoup every single lost touch.
“I am the world’s biggest idiot,” Nick said, kissing my back the second morning. “We could have been doing this all along. I made a bloody mess of things.”
“Give me a little credit. I worked hard to help screw things up,” I said. “Like wasting all that energy on Gemma, for one thing. I’m guessing you didn’t know she’s a lesbian, either?”
Nick’s eyes widened.
“I caught her with Bea,” I told him.
“Bea?”
“In a tree house,” I added.
“Cripes, I don’t know which part of this story is more interesting,” Nick said, bemused. “I had no clue. I’ve known them both my whole life. Gem was my first.” He looked thoughtful. “You know, I honestly never considered trying to have it off with her until after you and I broke up. And even that was partly because you were out wearing those cruel bikinis. But she wasn’t interested. I assumed I’d just been that crap when I was fifteen. Perhaps I was. Perhaps I revolted her.”
“Why do guys always assume women being lesbians is about them?” I asked. “It’s