Chapter Twenty-Five

For the first time, I could truly say William earned his commission. Right as the rain began hammering the party into submission, he stepped in, giving Sarah the nod and ordering us both to return to the cottage immediately. Mal reappeared at exactly the wrong moment, running down the garden with an umbrella, and the second he saw the looks on my parents' faces, I could tell he knew what he'd missed.

‘I'll talk to them,' he promised as Sarah steered me in the right direction, barely able to see one foot in front of the other through the pouring rain.

‘Thank you,' I said. Someone should and I didn't know where to start.

‘Don't worry,' Mal replied. ‘It's going to be fine.'

I only wished I had his confidence.

‘Cup of tea?' Sarah suggested, pushing Joe's room divider out the way once we were safely inside, the noise of the party far away. ‘Yep, this is clearly a tea situation.'

‘It's also a my-parents-hate-me-and-I'm-going-to-lose-my-job situation,' I replied, tossing her a towel to dry her hair. ‘Lots of milk, one sugar.'

I sank onto the sofa that Joe had folded neatly away. Considerate of him. Wet through and freezing cold, I stared straight ahead, my head full of helium but my body made of lead.

‘Nixon?' I said, teeth chattering.

‘Taylor,' she replied.

‘I know you're going to say no and I know you're only trying to help,' I said with my best attempt at a reassuring smile. ‘But I would really like to be on my own for a minute.'

‘You look like you've been constipated for a week and you're trying to convince me you don't need a suppository.' She took a mug out of the cupboard and set it next to the kettle. ‘You're a grown woman. If that's what you want, I'll leave you be. Unlike some people, I trust you.'

‘You must be the only one,' I replied. ‘No one out there would trust me as far as they could throw me.'

‘I wasn't talking about anyone out there,' she said, dropping a teabag into the mug then coming back over to the sofa to press a kiss to the top of my head. ‘I was talking about you learning to trust yourself. Your instincts were sharp enough to clock CJ, albeit two years too late, and you need to trust them now. This was always going to happen eventually, at least now you won't have to worry about when. It's time to bet on yourself.'

‘Don't know if I like my odds but I haven't got a lot of choice, have I?'

‘Nope.'

She fixed a fallen shoulder strap on my dress then pinged it gently. ‘Get into some dry clothes before you catch your death. If it's all right with you, I might hang around outside for a minute, in case you change your mind and want some company to go with that cup of tea. Lights on or off?'

‘Off please.'

Flipping the switch to leave me in gentle darkness, she let herself out, pulling the door halfway closed behind her.

So the news was out. The worst thing that could've happened, had happened. Although comparing the whole world knowing I was Este Cox with the idea of getting back together with CJ did sort of put it in perspective, and perspective was needed.

This wasn't the greatest tragedy ever to befall mankind. In the greater scheme of things, it wasn't even as bad as the fact they didn't sell Mini Eggs year-round or that Justin Timberlake was allowed to continue existing after Britney's book came out, but it still felt rough to me. Mum and Dad knew, Gregory Brent knew, along with everyone at the party and everyone who followed Charlotte on TikTok. The school would find out. And the most absurd part of it all? Even though my life had literally just been irrevocably changed, I wasn't sitting thinking about the damage to my teaching career, the reactions of my family or how much more pressure this put on me to deliver a brilliant sequel.

I was thinking about Joe.

‘You're a disgrace,' I told myself as I kicked away my soaked slides, the wooden floorboards warm underfoot.

‘I wouldn't go that far.'

His silhouette stood in the doorway, black against grey, as Joe leaned against the frame. Out the window, I saw an umbrella-carrying Sarah raise a hand in a farewell then walk away up the garden.

‘You don't know what I was talking about,' I told him, one foot covering the other, my toes curling as he crossed the threshold, dripping wet.

He took off his shoes, leaving them by the door, white shirt clinging to his arms where the umbrella hadn't been enough to protect him, his grey trousers now almost black. He studied me for a long second with his damp hair falling in front of his eyes, little rivulets of rainwater creating a sacred circle around him.

Instead of joining me on the sofa, he walked across to the kitchenette counter and dug into the punnet of strawberries we'd bought at the fête. I grabbed one of the cushions from the other end of the sofa and held it tightly to my cold body.

‘Want one?'

I shook my head and I watched him bite into his, filling the air with a fresh hit of sweetness.

‘They're good,' he said, licking the juice from his lips. ‘Nothing like English strawberries in the summer.'

‘No,' I agreed weakly. ‘Nothing like it.'

He reached for the fridge door.

‘Don't,' I said and he paused.

‘Don't what?'

‘Don't put them in the fridge.'

I found my feet and forced myself across the room to take the punnet out of his hand, placing the strawberries on the kitchen counter. ‘They taste better if you leave them out. They don't like the cold.'

‘You learn something new every day.'

‘Lots of people learned something new tonight,' I replied, prodding a plump, firm strawberry. ‘What's the mood like out there?'

‘The party mostly dried up, no pun intended, but no one was going to top what happened so probably good timing,' he admitted. ‘Your mum and dad went inside with Mal before I could talk to them, William and his husband were returning phones and calling taxis, and CJ was crying hysterically on the shoulder of a very tolerant Michael Cunningham.'

‘God, he's one of my favourite authors,' I whispered. ‘He deserves better.'

‘We'll send him a fruit basket,' Joe said. ‘Or a stack of cash, whatever it takes.'

It was so quiet, all I could hear was the kettle clicking off and the heavy rise and fall of my own breath. If I'd run a marathon, I might understand why my body burned and my legs were weak but all I'd done was walk down a garden. I was exhausted but restless, the worst kind of tired.

‘Your friend said you didn't want to talk.' Joe's blue eyes blazed like sapphires in the low light, the only colour I could see. ‘Do you want me to leave?'

‘No.'

It was the only thing I was sure about.

His hand reached across the short space between us and brushed my wet hair back behind my ear, and his fingers curled around the back of my neck for a brief moment before he pulled them away. I missed his touch immediately.

‘I can't stand the thought of you sitting in here on your own, beating yourself up,' he said, his words tender. ‘You've done nothing wrong.'

Flexing my bruised right hand, I frowned. ‘Apart from when I punched my ex-boyfriend in the face?'

‘You've done nothing wrong,' Joe said again, this time with a slight smile.

‘Let's wait and see what Mum and Dad think before we commit to that.' I leaned back against the fridge, their disappointed faces right in front of my eyes. ‘And my boss. And the parents whose children I teach. And the entire internet.'

‘Because the internet is well known for their rational and even-handed response in all situations?' Joe pushed his own damp hair away from his face, newly defined waves curling around his ears.

‘This isn't how I wanted everyone to find out,' I said with an exasperated groan. ‘I was perfectly happy hiding.'

‘Were you?' he asked. ‘Perfectly happy?'

‘I was happier than I am now,' I replied. ‘It's like I've walked into one of those giant searchlights and everyone is staring at me.'

‘It's not a searchlight.' He lowered his voice as his hand found its way back up to my face and neither of us pulled away this time. ‘It's a spotlight. It's shining on you so the whole world can see things the way I do. Every facet of you is sparkling right now. You're so bright, you're blinding.'

My pulse quickened with the same heat and longing I saw reflected in his face. He was so close.

‘If this is some kind of game, please tell me now,' I said weakly. ‘I can't get involved with someone who's going to mess me about.'

‘And I can't get involved with anyone full stop.'

His actions didn't match his words. He moved closer still, until our foreheads touched and his palms rested on either side of my face, fingertips grazing my hair, my ears, my neck and both thumbs caressing my cheekbones.

‘Then what are you doing?' I whispered as one hand dropped down the back of my neck, his thumb trailing over my cheek and along my jaw until it found my mouth.

‘I wish I knew.'

My lips parted as he tested the softness of the skin, lightly tracing the swell.

‘The first time I saw you, at lunch with Mal,' he said, closing his eyes for a second to concentrate on the memory. ‘Something about you connected to something in me in a way I can't explain. And I thought I could explain everything. Every time you moved, I panicked, sure you were going to leave before I got to speak to you. I told myself to stay where I was and let you go but I couldn't. You were like a test.'

‘Did you pass?' I asked as his eyes fluttered open.

‘The results aren't in yet.'

The pad of his thumb moved down my chin to my throat and paused at my collarbone. ‘Then I came over and I know you felt it too. When you stood up to leave, your hair spilled over your shoulder. I literally couldn't breathe. The way the light hit, you were glowing. And you should've seen the look on your face when Mal told you to leave. I knew if you stayed, all bets were off. By the time we left the restaurant, I couldn't stand the thought of letting you out my sight.'

‘Can't believe my singing didn't put you off,' I quipped softly. He grinned. No hesitation this time.

‘There was nothing you could've done to put me off by then. There's nothing you could ever do. Even fighting with you is fun.'

My hands found the fridge behind me and cooled themselves against the metal finish, too afraid to touch him in case I couldn't let go.

‘You're so passionate, you care so much. You're funny and smart, and you're ridiculously talented even if you aren't ready to believe it yourself. Anyone would be beyond lucky to stand beside you. Yes, I was trying to help when I said I was Este Cox but I was also being selfish. I was trying to keep myself in your life, same as when I brought your bag up here. Could've given it to my dad or taken it into work to Mal but it was an excuse. I needed to see you again.'

‘Instalove is my least favourite trope,' I told him, hands shaking behind my back. ‘You're not doing yourself any favours right now.'

‘Then I'm not expressing myself very well and you don't understand how I feel,' he murmured, the soft rumpling of his shirt as loud as thunder in my ear. ‘I wish it didn't have to be so complicated.'

‘Why is it? You're the one who doesn't do relationships,' I reminded him and myself at the same time. If he didn't step away from me very soon, that wasn't going to matter much any more. ‘I'm not a mind reader. If you want me to understand, you have to explain.'

He pulled away so I could see his face, flushed and full of need. ‘You really want to know what I'm thinking right now?'

‘I've got a vague idea,' I breathed. ‘But clarification couldn't hurt.'

Joe stared back at me like this was another test, searching me for something that might make him hesitate but I knew all he would find there was my desire. A desire I saw mirrored back at me in his blue eyes.

‘I'm wondering how you like it,' he said, leaning in to whisper directly into my ear. ‘I'm wondering if you'll pull me down on top of you or push me back and ride me. I'm wondering what you taste like and how long I can hold you at the edge before you come undone and start to beg.' He moved around to the other ear and I felt a shudder work its way down my body, rippling along my spine and building to a crescendo between my thighs. ‘Will you say my name?' he asked. ‘Or will you scream? I want to know how far I can take you before it's too much. I want to know if you will look me in the eye when I finally let you come.'

The safe space between us disappeared and the hands that had cradled my head so gently were on my hips, his mouth hovering above the skin of my neck as he breathed me in. Small whimpers escaped from my throat even as I tried to contain them, my breath ragged and uneven.

‘If you don't like instalove, which tropes do you like?' he asked, the rough promise of tomorrow's beard scratching the tender flesh of my throat.

I placed my forearms on his chest, holding him at bay and holding myself up, arms shaking, knees weak. The sound of rain pounded against the roof of the cottage and, as the anticipation grew, my resolve weakened until there was nothing left at all.

‘Only one bed has always been a favourite,' I replied, casting my gaze across the room. My hands slid down from his chest to his waist, thumbs hooking themselves over his belt. ‘Forced proximity, enemies to lovers.'

Slowly, so slowly, he began to unbutton his shirt, carefully manipulating each button, without taking his eyes off mine.

‘Is this a good idea?' I said, my cardigan slipping off my shoulder all on its own.

‘No,' he answered. ‘It's a terrible idea. You're going to get hurt, I'm going to get hurt. You'll never speak to me again. It'll probably destroy my career.'

‘Then we shouldn't,' I said as he pulled the fabric of his open shirt out of his waistband and casually discarded it on the floor. What little light there was cut shapes and shadows over his body, the indentation of his collarbone, the curve of his shoulder as it dipped into the swell of his bicep. ‘I'll go back to the house, sleep on the floor or something.'

‘That's a great idea,' Joe agreed, his words melting into me as he pressed his mouth against my neck, right where my blood pulsed under my skin, the taste of my heartbeat on his tongue.

‘We're not animals,' I groaned, head rolling back when he slipped one black silk spaghetti strap off my shoulder, his kisses moving down my body and leaving a trail of sweet shivers in their wake. ‘I can control myself.'

He ran his hand up my back and raked it through the hair at the nape of my neck, grasping a careful fistful and pulling gently until I moaned for more.

‘Good girl.'

The words rumbled in his throat and I was done for. There was no need for even one bed, not when the wall was right behind me, the floor right beneath us. I tore at his belt, furious at the strip of supple leather for keeping him from me even half a second longer than necessary. The fastener, button and zip that held his trousers around his waist were an outrage, my fingers numb as they worked their way around each one. It was too hard to concentrate even on simple tasks with Joe's hands up in my hair, his mouth charting a course from one side of my collarbone to the other. Half of me wanted to let go and lose myself but the other half wanted to remember every exquisite sensation. I heard his trousers fall to the floor and pulled on the taut waistband of his underwear, slipping them down over his hips, his backside, his strong, thick thighs. He pushed me back against the wall in response, the skirt of my dress riding up and gathering between us as he found the slip of silky underwear between my legs, the last thing that separated us.

‘This is the worst fucking idea you've ever had,' Joe growled into my ear as he worked his way along it, teasing and testing, one finger tracing a line right down the middle, gliding back and forth. ‘We're going to regret this tomorrow.'

‘Better make it something worth regretting then,' I said, forcing my eyes open and staring straight into his with as much defiance as I could muster. He held me still as his fingers slid inside me, watching the sharp intake of breath as it filled my body. Still I didn't look away, I watched him watch me, wonder on his face and a thick, hard erection throbbing impatiently against my thigh.

‘Sophie, I—' he started but I shook my head.

‘Don't.' I leaned into his body, the curve of his hand between my legs, my hips already moving to his rhythm. ‘Don't say anything. Don't make promises you're not going to keep.'

‘I can think of one I can keep.' The edges of his words already frayed as my breath came faster. ‘I said I'd make you come until you see stars.'

Finally, his lips found mine, his hot hungry mouth sweet with strawberries. But if he was hungry, I was ravenous. Two days of wanting, waiting, imagining this moment but it felt like a lifetime. I stood on my tiptoes to pull him as close as I possibly could and hooked one leg around his waist, riding the tide for as long as I could, even though I knew I would be overwhelmed and disappear beneath the waves without a trace. It was a mistake. I would regret it. But when he pushed inside me, filling me with sweet, sharp relief, I truly did not care.