“I had a lot of good times when I was away. So many good friends and experiences that I’ll remember forever. It was only the later years and the burnout that spoilt it.” I can’t conceal the jerk of my body, and he looks sideways at me. “You okay?”
I nod quickly. “Of course. I’m fine.” I pause. “I’m glad you had good times. I guess I’ve just got used to the way you left it.”
Partly for me. Are you regretting it now? Am I enough?
I want to ask him questions, but I swallow the words.
“It’s Patricia,” he says, mentioning his therapist. “We’ve moved into focusing on good memories. I have to think of one every time we meet, and it’s dragged up some happier times.”
“I’m glad,” I say quietly, and he cups my face, and I raise it for a kiss.
A few minutes later, I look around and shudder. “It’s very dark here.” I pause. “And quiet. Very, very ominously quiet.”
He bites his lip as if trying not to laugh. “It isn’t that quiet. There’s the noise of the wind in the trees.”
“The spooky wind in the trees.” I look around again. “And it’s so… so… open. Where are all the houses? Where do people live?”
He loses the battle and laughs. “In the caves,” he says in a dramatic voice. “Where they lie in wait for innocent red-haired travellers to rob them of their two pieces of very fucking heavy luggage.”
“I detect bitterness.”
“Yes, you don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes for that. Henry, we’re away for two fucking nights, and most of that time we’ll be naked.”
“Yes, but the times we’re not naked I’ll need to wear clothes, and I have to be prepared for all eventualities like temperature fluctuation from warmth to freezing cold. Wind, rain, snow.” I wave a hand airily. “You know what I mean.”
“This is the Cotswolds. I don’t think they’ve had severe temperature fluctuations since the Ice Age.” He looks around. “It’s England. Pack for rain and wind and then layer.” He shrugs. “Easy.”
I smile at him. “I love you,” I say affectionately. “You’re so adorable.”
He gives me the smile that seems to be solely reserved for me. “I love you too. You’re such a pain in my arse.”
“Only if I don’t prep well.”
“Ho ho ho.” He sits down in the car and drags me onto his lap. “Sass, sass, and more sass.”
I take off his baseball cap and smooth my fingers through his hair. “Ivo, there is only one person I would be prepared to brave the countryside and all the weather for, and it’s you.”
He smiles. “Baby, I’m fucking honoured.”
An hour later, I stir in my seat. “When did the RAC say they were coming?”
He looks at the Breitling watch that I bought him for Christmas last year. “An hour ago.” He looks at me. “Are you cold? Do you want the heater on?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
He nods. “I’ll ring them.” Palming his phone, he slips out of the car and paces away. I occupy myself by watching his arse as he walks along the verge. He’s wearing a green Ralph Lauren jumper and old jeans, and the denim clings lovingly to his backside and narrow hips while the jumper hugs his broad shoulders. I remember hovering over him this morning and watching my bare cock pushing inside him, and I stir and adjust myself.
A few minutes later, he lopes back to the car. “I’ve got bad news and good news.”
I shake my head. “Bad news first.”
“Okay, Captain Gloomy. The bad news is that the RAC won’t be here for a few hours. The earliest they can make it is in two hours.”
“Two hours,” I echo, looking at the clock. “The reception desk at the hotel will be closed by then. Okay, give me some good news quick.”
“We haven’t been murdered by the wild bandits that roam the Cotswold back lanes yet.” He laughs as I punch his arm. “Okay, okay, I’ve just remembered that Max lives nearby.”
“Max, your old mate? Journalist Max?” He nods, and I ask, “What are you thinking?”
“Well, he’ll come and pick us up,” he says with a grin. “And if I talk nicely, he’ll take us to the hotel. It’s perfect.” He holds his phone up. “I’ll ring him now.”
Before I can say anything, he’s gone, and I hear his voice say, “Max,” delightedly. I slump down in my seat. Great. Max Travers. With the exception of me, he’s Ivo’s oldest