Epilogue

Eight months later

Holly and I have been lugging boxes and furniture up and down stairs for the past couple of hours, moving it all into our new home – a new block full of modern one and two-bedroom flats in Bethnal Green.

Eight months is my record for moving in with someone, but why wait when we're both certain? I even asked Holly to marry me one night when we were at Mum and Dad's and I'd had too many rum cocktails. She laughed and said, ‘Don't be stupid.'

My face fell and Holly's mouth dropped open. ‘Oh, God. You're serious?'

I shook my head. ‘Not really. I just thought you might want that.'

She slipped onto my lap and held my face. ‘No. I think we're good how we are. Don't you?'

I kissed her, heady with rum and love, my mum cooing at us across the kitchen table. ‘I do,' I said. ‘But how about we … maybe, if you want, like … move in together? We spend most nights together anyway.'

Holly stroked my cheek. ‘That's exactly what I want.'

Mum dabbed the corner of her eye. ‘You two.'

‘Are you for real, Mum?' Chandice said. ‘They're just moving in together, not having a baby.'

‘It's beautiful, though, innit?' Mum said. ‘What they went through to get to this point.'

Chandice rolled her eyes. ‘You better shed a tear when me and Joseph move in together.'

‘If you're not careful, I'll bloody move in with Joseph,' Mum said. ‘I wouldn't mind a bit of him.'

Chandice stormed off, horrified, and Holly collapsed into giggles. We spent the rest of the night searching flats online and planning our next chapter together.

Up to the moving-in decision, Holly and I flitted between each other's flats, getting to know one another properly, living in the real world. Me learning more about her habits and quirks, like her messiness and the way she organises groceries in the shopping trolley, and her putting up with mine – like working too much, stressing about my exhibitions not being perfect, and making sure every item of clothing I put on is freshly ironed. We talked more about the relationships we'd each had over the years, and it took time to fully earn her trust again, to assure her I really was working late, to call and message as much as possible to prove my commitment. It paid off and we eventually reached a comfortable place.

She found herself a part-time project manager role at a local council and set up a small photography business, which has taken off, so she'll soon be giving up the part-time job.

My and Jaz's families have taken her in as their own, their hearts breaking over her losing both her parents at such a young age. She's tried all the spicy Jamaican dishes Dad and Jaz's dad have served up for her; eaten the black pudding and liver Mum's given her to try; spent time at the butcher's; read drafts of Chandice's steamy romances; and constantly listened to Jazzy gush over Leila.

And now, here we are, in our new flat, purchased with Holly's share of the sale of her parents' house and a sizeable mortgage for my half.

Holly dumps a box on the lounge-room floor. ‘That's it. The last one.'

I groan and fall onto the sofa. ‘Thank God. Up and down those stairs all afternoon has done me in.'

Holly leans against the doorframe. ‘Don't relax. Jaz and Leila will be here for dinner soon.'

‘Tell me you're jokin'.'

‘Jaz said it's British tradition to invite people over on the first night in a new place, so I invited them.'

I raise my brows. ‘And you fell for that?'

Holly scrunches her nose. ‘That's not a thing?'

I give a short laugh. ‘No. She's takin' the piss.'

‘Well, I guess we have dinner guests now. I have no idea where the plates are, and we have no food, so it'll be takeaway.'

‘The cheek of her,' I say with a grin.

Holly opens a box and pulls out some sofa cushions, throwing them over to me.

I pile them at the end of the couch. ‘Come and lie here with me for a bit, since we're not going to get the night to ourselves.'

Holly's eyes flick up from the box. ‘They'll leave at some point.'

‘Yeah, but we'll be tired and pissed up by then.'

She walks over and pushes me back, stretching out on top of me. ‘Better?'

‘Mmm.' I lift my head to kiss her and sigh as her lips make the day's stress drain away. ‘What time will they be here?' I murmur.

She pushes her pelvis against me and kisses my neck. ‘Seven.'

I grab my phone from the floor and glance at the screen. ‘Half an hour.'

Holly kisses me again. ‘Plenty of time.'

I wrap my arms around her waist and flip her over, delighting in her shriek. ‘I've got a present for you.'

She lifts a questioning brow. ‘Is that what we're calling it now?'

I grin and jump up. ‘Sex is a gift I like to give you, but I've got something else. Close your eyes.'

‘Ooh, a gift.' She sits up. ‘Okay. Closed.'

‘Keep them shut,' I call as I dash into the bedroom and grab a canvas Dad and I placed under the bed earlier while Mum and Chandice distracted Holly. I carry it along the short hall back to the lounge. ‘Still shut?'

‘Yep.'

I pad across the carpet and rest it on the mantel, then strip off the covering. ‘Okay. Open.'

Holly opens her eyes and gasps, then stands and walks over to me. ‘No.'

I grin, dead pleased with myself. ‘Yes.'

She slides her arm around my waist and gazes at the painting. ‘Oh,' she breathes. ‘I love it. But how?'

I wrap my arm around her shoulder and look at the painting of Holly and me lying on her bed in a Berlin university dorm, staring into each other's eyes. ‘Katarina did it.'

Holly's mouth drops open. ‘Katarina? The artist who did that incredible painting for your Berlin exhibition?'

‘Uh-huh. As soon as you showed me that photo I knew I wanted it as a painting, and when you came back to London, I contacted Katarina straight away and she?—'

Holly kisses me. ‘I love it.'

The doorbell rings.

I groan. ‘Jazzy's always early.'

‘I'll get it,' Holly says, heading to kitchen to buzz them in. After a few seconds, she wanders back in, still smiling.

‘What?' I say.

‘You.' She pulls me to her and gives me a lingering kiss.

I moan and slip my fingertips under the waistband of her jeans.

‘Oops. Soz,' Jaz says. ‘Want us to come back in five?'

I grunt and pull away. ‘Why are you always fucking early, Jazzy?'

‘Don't mind us,' Leila says, trailing behind Jaz. ‘We'll just go in the kitchen and have a drink.'

‘Won't take you long, yeah?' Jaz says. ‘A few minutes?'

Holly laughs. ‘More like a few hours.'

‘Sure, Hols,' Jaz says.

‘She can wait,' Holly says. ‘Come in. Sit down. You'll have to use boxes as tables.' Holly empties the rest of the cushions and turns a box upside down, pushing it towards the sofa.

Leila sits and looks about. ‘This is really nice.' She clocks the painting. ‘Oh my God, is that' – she gestures to Holly and me – ‘you two?'

‘Aw,' Jaz says. ‘It turned out amazing.'

Leila looks at her, and Jaz nods towards the painting. ‘That's when they first met all those years ago. It's been painted from one of Holly's photos. Look how in love they were.'

Leila clutches her chest. ‘Naw. I love love stories.'

I grin at Jaz who gives a bashful smile. She's well love struck.

Holly returns from the kitchen holding up some plastic tumblers. ‘It's all I can find.'

‘That'll do,' Jaz says, unscrewing the cap from a wine bottle and filling the cups. She passes them around and holds one up. ‘Cheers to your new home.'

Leila holds her cup up. ‘And to the next stage of your life together.'

Holly and I exchange a loving glance. ‘We'll drink to that.'

The hours pass as we drink, talk and eat takeaway. I look at the painting leaning against the wall, the memory of Holly photographing us still vivid in my mind. I see the connection that she wanted to capture forever – a connection I could never truly run from. My being fills with joy and peace and love – for life, for Holly and for our future, whatever that looks like.