Chapter Twenty-Six

It was dark when I reached across the bed for Joe, only to discover he'd been gone long enough for his warm side of the mattress to turn cold. There were no lights on in the bathroom, no sound coming from anywhere else in the living room, the curtain-less windows black. I rolled over, wrapping myself in a blanket as I left the comfort of the bed to search for him, relieved when it didn't take long.

‘Storm's over. Clear night.'

He didn't turn around when I opened the back door, instead he stayed right where he was, sitting on the back step, staring out across the fields. I wasn't sure if it was very, very early or very, very late. The stars were still out, more here than I ever saw in Hertfordshire and the indigo blue sky bled into a deep, inky navy with the slightest orange tint to the line of the horizon. The promise of a new day on its way, whether we wanted it or not.

‘Aren't you cold?' I asked, noting he was still naked. His body curled comfortably on the step, knees pulled up, arms wrapped around his shins. There was no self-consciousness or attempt to hide, he was entirely him.

‘I'm fine,' he replied. ‘Go back to bed.'

Carefully, I sat down beside him, keeping the blanket tucked around me.

‘Can't sleep,' I said. It wasn't a lie. As soon as I realised he was gone, I was wide awake and, truthfully, I was surprised to find him so close by. The part of me that didn't trust either one of us was sure he'd have been long gone.

‘Do you really hate the idea of love at first sight?' Joe asked, keeping his gaze steadily on the sky.

‘It's not that I hate it but I personally don't believe in it,' I said. ‘My favourite romances have always been the ones that seem vaguely possible. Love at first sight has never happened to me.'

He nodded thoughtfully.

‘Did you love CJ?'

‘I thought I did at the time. I'm not so sure now. It feels more like we were playing at it, pretending to be grown-ups. Even when things were good, it was never the kind of love you read about.'

‘You mean the kind you write about,' Joe corrected sweetly before throwing out another question. ‘Do you believe that exists? The all-consuming, overwhelming romance novel love?'

I paused before I answered, wanting to be sure I got it right. This wasn't the time for mixed messages. Or pretending.

‘It has to,' I replied, choosing each word very carefully. ‘Otherwise why would we all be chasing after it? Why have so many people dedicated their lives to trying to put inexplicable feelings into words? Love is the most incredible thing, it can happen to anyone, anywhere, at any time. You can't buy it, you can't force it, but almost everyone wants it and some people will do anything to get it. You could be walking down the street one day and pass a stranger, not knowing that six minutes, six days, six weeks, even sixty years from that second, you're going to be head over heels, hopelessly in love with them.'

We sat side by side, quiet and calm, and I tried to relax, pretending we weren't in the eye of the storm.

‘What about you?' I asked. ‘You've never been in love?'

The corners of his mouth turned up but it wasn't a happy expression, more a smile that existed in spite of itself.

‘It would be fair to say I haven't had the best experiences with relationships.'

‘That's not a no.'

‘It's not a yes either,' he replied with the same wry expression. ‘I always thought it was better to keep some distance in relationships, avoid commitment. I never took them very seriously. My parents were very good at showing me what not to do but figuring out the opposite has never been easy for me.'

‘Is it ever?' I asked, studying him.

‘I'm starting to think it could be.'

Only when I had him fully committed to memory, did I look away. Holding his hair back from his face, Joe took in a long, slow inhale then blew it all out at once.

‘Have you ever heard of the Japanese phrase "Koi No Yokan"?' he asked.

I shook my head in response. ‘What does it mean?'

He couldn't fight the smile that came with whatever it was that danced through his memory. ‘I had a Japanese roommate at Harvard, Dai. He was, still is, the coolest person I know, but he would fall in love every other day. "Koi No Yokan" doesn't have a direct English translation but it more or less means the feeling you get when you meet someone and know that falling in love with them is inevitable. We mostly used it as a pick-up line.'

Even though I already knew the answer, I asked the question.

‘Did it work?'

‘Most dependable chat-up line I have ever used.'

‘Can't believe I didn't give you a chance to use it on me,' I said, an uncomfortable non-laugh following my words. ‘I should've held out for longer.'

Joe turned to look at me, squinting out from underneath his hair.

‘It's difficult to use a line on someone when that's how you really feel.'

It was exactly what I wanted to hear. But he knew that, didn't he? Joe knew what everyone wanted to hear. Tall, handsome, clever, funny Joseph Walsh, with his instinctive chivalry, quick smile and impeccable manners. Charming parents, saving damsels in distress and swamped by women falling at his feet. There was no way of knowing which parts of him were genuine and which parts were finely honed tools crafted for a very specific job, just like his Japanese pick-up line.

He stretched his legs, flexing his feet, the muscles in his calves extending and contracting. ‘I don't blame you if you don't trust me,' he said. ‘I wouldn't.'

‘Do you trust me?' I asked, deflecting his semi-question with one of my own.

‘I don't know. I've never cared either way before,' he replied, frowning at his own answer. ‘Trust is a difficult thing to identify in someone else when you know you can't be trusted yourself.'

He cocked his head to one side, lost in thought for a moment. It was an expression I was starting to recognise, his internal debate with himself. I waited patiently, in no rush, until his expression reset itself, eyebrows sliding back into place, forehead smooth, decision made.

‘There are some things I need to sort out,' he said. ‘I can't imagine you'll be shocked to hear I've occasionally acted on impulse and made a few mistakes in my time but I swear, you don't need to worry about anything.'

I pulled my blanket tightly to my body and looked back up at the sky. After all the rain, the air was clearer than it had been all weekend, a clean green scent cutting through the dense summer closeness. The storm had passed, we were starting fresh.

‘There aren't any simple answers,' I said eventually, talking to myself as much as to Joe. ‘All we can do is try to trust each other. No secrets.'

‘Says Este Cox,' he responded with a sly grin.

‘No secrets starting now,' I amended, placing one hand on the ground between us. ‘How does that sound?'

His hand found mine and covered it.

‘More than I deserve but exactly what I want.'

There was no hesitation this time, no waiting for permission. He brought his forehead to mine, nuzzling against me, and I let my blanket fall to the ground as he took me in his arms. The shock of his cool skin on my warm body struck like lightning, every inch of me awake and alive, inside and out. I explored his face with my fingertips, his lips, his eyelashes, the stubble that roughened his skin, then his strong, supple shoulders and the muscles in his back, his arms, his chest. A carnal sound ripped out of him when my hand moved down between his legs, melting me to my core before he laid me back on my blanket like a fallen hourglass, sands settling, time stopped.

It was the same but different. The first time, we'd been running a race, careening downhill and desperate to reach the finish line, unable to slow down even when we wanted to, but now the urgency, my need to answer all the questions he had asked, was tempered by the desire to savour every moment and commit it all to memory. The scent of his skin, which parts of me he reached for first, the way his lips parted when I took him in my hand, and the way I felt, knowing I had the exact same effect on him that he had on me. Bodies entwined, I arched into him, my heart beating faster and faster as the night wrapped us up in its last sigh and I surrendered, irrevocably lost, never to be found again.

When I finally opened my eyes and accepted Sunday was happening whether I liked it or not, Joe was already up, fully clothed and making tea. I laid in bed, watching him dunk two teabags and quietly swearing when he splashed boiling water on himself.

‘You're dressed,' I said with disappointment.

‘It is the way of my people,' he replied, dropping the teabags in the sink, splashing milk into both mugs and bringing them back to bed.

‘But you said you'd never need clothes again.'

‘And you said time is a construct, The Muppets' Christmas Carol is the best Dickens adaptation of all time and Justin Timberlake should be tried in The Hague for what he did to Britney.'

He handed me a tea before taking a long drink of his own.

‘When I'm relaxed, I tend to get a bit chatty,' I replied. ‘But I stand by it all.'

‘Good. Because you're right about all of it.'

One of us had pulled down the curtains that had divided the living space in the night and they lay in a pool of fabric beside the sofa. We hadn't slept much, or at least I hadn't. Every time Joe drifted off, I lay watching him, too overcome even to close my eyes. He slept on his front, arms under his pillow and his head to one side, the vivid red trails I'd scratched into his back burning in the darkness and I wished them into tattoos, marking him permanently the way I knew he had marked me. I didn't believe in love at first sight but, whatever this was, the way I felt when I looked at him now, hair messy, pillow creases still etched into his cheek, I believed in that.

‘Not to spoil the mood but my dad is blowing up my phone,' Joe said, holding up his phone as evidence. ‘I've got a feeling he isn't planning to stay for brunch.'

‘He wants to leave?' I replied, putting two and two together and coming up with Joe going with him. ‘Let him take the car. We can get the train back down together later.'

Later.

After.

I was going to have to talk to my family.

For one very long moment, I'd forgotten about everything that wasn't Joe Walsh.

‘Or I could drive him to the train station and we could take the car,' Joe suggested. ‘Either way, I was thinking. Maybe we should keep this between us for now.'

Another suggestion I didn't love.

‘With everything that's going on.' He sat on the edge of the bed, cupping his steaming hot mug of tea. ‘This is ours. I don't care what anyone else thinks and I don't want to share it.'

‘Sounds to me like you don't want to be Mr Este Cox,' I joked but neither of us laughed. ‘What happened to no secrets?'

‘This is different, this is our secret,' Joe said. ‘And it's just for now, just until everything gets figured out.'

Everything including but not limited to his commitment issues, my trust issues, our parents' feud and the true identity of Este Cox. I put down my mug and reached for the closest item of clothing I could find, Joe's white shirt from the night before.

‘So we're basically Romeo and Juliet,' I commented as I slipped my arms through the sleeves. It felt even softer than it looked.

‘Only I'm not sixteen, you're not thirteen and fingers crossed no one is getting poisoned or stabbed.'

‘It's still early,' I replied, rolling up the too-long sleeves. ‘Let's not rule out all the fun.'

With that crooked half-smile I already loved, Joe rose from the bed, put down his tea before taking mine. Bracing his hand against the wall, he leaned over to kiss me, deep and searching, and when we broke apart, I gasped, my hands cupping his face.

‘You're staring at me,' he said, holding close, eye to eye.

‘Because you're very pretty,' I replied. ‘And I like you very much.'

‘Stop it,' he instructed before kissing me again. ‘You're giving me butterflies.'

He rolled me back onto the bed, his phone pinging quietly to itself as I worked on his belt. He tossed his T-shirt to the ground and I shrugged my way out of my borrowed button-down, laughing and happy and so close to calling it love, I could feel the words fighting their way out of my mouth until he kissed it closed. As long as the feelings were real, the words would keep. There was no rush, after all. We had all the time in the world.