flush of hot-cold energy goes through me as he touches me, like the moment when someone pulls you in for a deep kiss, but all he’s done is place his fingers over mine.
‘I think you’re amazing, Leena Cotton. You are kind, and beautiful, and absolutely unstoppable, and God, that thing that you do, running your hand through your hair like that, it …’ He rubs his mouth with his spare hand, jaw clenching and unclenching.
I lower my arm – I hadn’t realised I’d even reached to touch my hair.
‘I think you should know,’ he says. ‘I like you. Like I shouldn’t. That sort of like.’
My breath is coming fast and shaky. I want to reach for him. I want to lace my fingers through his and pull myself towards him and kiss him hard on the mouth in the firelight, and he’s so close, closer than he should be, so close I can see the pale freckles under his eyes, the dusting of stubble across his jaw—
‘I’ve not known what to do,’ he says, his voice so quiet it’s almost a whisper. His lips are inches from mine. ‘For weeks I’ve thought about it. I don’t want to break up a relationship, that’s wrong. But I also don’t want you to leave without knowing.’
My brain kicks in the moment he mentions Ethan. I pull my hand away and back up, swallowing hard. My body’s slower – I’m hot with wanting.
‘I shouldn’t – I’m sorry, Jackson, I should have stopped you the moment you started speaking. I don’t see you that way. I have a boyfriend. You know that.’ It comes out wobblier than I’d like; I try to sound firm and decisive, but my mind is foggy with tropical cocktails and my pulse is still pounding.
‘And he makes you happy?’ Jackson asks. He winces slightly as he says it. ‘I’m sorry. I’m only going to ask you that once.’
I take a deep breath. It’s Ethan we’re talking about. Of course I know the answer to this question.
‘Yes. He does.’
Jackson looks down at his feet. ‘Well. Good. I’m glad. I’m glad he makes you happy.’
He seems to mean it, which makes my heart hurt.
‘I’ll be gone next week,’ I say, swallowing. ‘You’ll … forget all about me. Life will go back to normal.’
We both look towards the fire, its flames torn by the breeze.
‘I might just say goodbye now,’ Jackson says.
I’m having a little gathering tomorrow in the village hall with the Neighbourhood Watch crew, maybe even Nicola and Betsy if they feel up to it. But I guess no Jackson.
‘That’s fine,’ I say. ‘Of course. I should …’ I stand. One side of my body’s hot from the bonfire, the other’s cool from the breeze.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jackson says, standing too. ‘I should have … Obviously, now, I can see I shouldn’t have said anything.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘I get it.’
It’s better he said it. Now it’s clear where the line is.
‘Well. Goodbye,’ he says.
I hesitate, and then,
‘Come here,’ I say, and pull him in for a hug. He closes his arms around me, my cheek against his chest, his hand almost spanning the width of my waist. He smells of open fires and wildflowers, the scent of his wreath still caught in the soft fabric of his shirt. I pull away as my pulse begins to pound again.
‘Live a good life, Leena Cotton,’ he says, in the moment we step apart. ‘And … make sure it’s the right one.’
30
Eileen
I leave Tod in bed with the sheets ruffled, his arm thrown wide as if reaching for me again. I like the idea of this as my last memory of him, and his last memory of me as the way I was last night: giddy, a little silly, and wearing perfect make-up because Martha did it for me.
My bags are all packed and waiting in Rupert and Aurora’s hallway downstairs. Fitz carried them down for me before he left for work. I gave Aurora and Rupert a cactus as their goodbye present; Aurora was ecstatic. Really, that woman thinks anything shaped even vaguely like a penis is a work of art.
They’ve promised to keep the Silver Shoreditchers’ Social Club going and to send me photos of each month’s event. It’s Fitz who’s most excited about it, though: he has grand plans to expand the club already. It’s been a joy, seeing him throwing his heart into it all – he reminds me a little of myself at that age. Though I had a