Chapter Thirty-Two

Later, when I am bundled into a golf cart and dropped back at the main building after the full-body massage Lisa insisted I have, I am pleasantly buzzed on sparkling wine and utterly drunk on pampering. I am all warm and malleable, like well-kneaded dough that's been left on a sunny windowsill.

‘Theo's paid some stupid amount of money so we get unlimited treatments,' Lisa said, several glasses deep, after we had bonded over everything from Ryan Gosling (dreamy) to our love of teaching (Lisa is a primary school teacher) to how wildly overrated afternoon tea is (‘I mean, what am I? A child? A doll? Just give me a normal-person-sized sandwich,' Lisa expounded, waving her arms while I hissed, ‘Yes, yes, exactly.').

‘We can just have anything we want,' she gestured around the spa, a frenzied look in her eyes. ‘It's absolutely mad and I feel like we need to try and get him his money's worth. I've had my eyebrows threaded, my eyelashes tinted, my face peeled. Mum and I did a sound bath this morning with a woman called Acorn.' She looks shiftily from side to side before whispering, ‘Then later a very muscular Swedish woman waxed my pubes in the shape of a heart. It's been a surreal sort of day.'

I realize once I reach the main building that I have no idea where I am going and also that I am only wearing a fluffy dressing gown over a pair of pants. This had seemed fine in the spa, but now, as I am confronted by Cassandra in her power suit and her clackety four-inch Manolo Blahniks, I admit to feeling a bit under-dressed. Upon reflection, I'm not actually sure where my clothes have gone.

‘Dr Monroe,' – Cassandra smiles like my sartorial choices are impeccable – ‘you and Mr Eliott are in the Bluebell Suite. I can have Caleb show you the way if you like?'

‘Yes, thank you.' I try to sound as though I belong as I take in the beautiful, polished floor that looks like a shiny chess board, the tasteful wood panelling and velvet furnishings, the leafy potted palms, and the enormous carved wooden staircase. This place is gorgeous, and Lisa told me that the whole hotel is all theirs until Sunday. We're having a family dinner tonight before the guests start arriving tomorrow, then there's the rehearsal for the family in the church and the big rehearsal dinner, before the wedding itself on Saturday.

Caleb leads me up the thickly carpeted stairs (the feeling of which between my toes brings me to another soberingly pertinent question… where are my shoes?) and down a hallway papered in foiled brocade before depositing me outside an enormous door with a discreet gold plaque engraved with the words ‘Bluebell Suite'.

When I open the door I am confronted by the glorious sight of not only the most luxurious hotel room I have ever seen, but of Theo Eliott sprawled across the four-poster bed taking a nap. I actually feel my heart squeeze with the gladness of seeing him after only a couple of hours apart, which even I will admit is a bit much.

‘Hey,' he murmurs, sleepily, happily, as I clamber up on the bed beside him. ‘You've been gone ages.'

‘I've been bonding with your sister,' I say. ‘And I've lost my clothes. Not exactly the introduction to your family that I was expecting.'

He huffs out a laugh. ‘They sent your clothes and your shoes up a while ago.' He pulls me tight against him, snuggling into me, burying his face in my hair. ‘You smell good,' he says, his hands already going to the belt of my dressing gown.

‘A woman called Acorn rubbed oil all over me,' I say, stretching like a cat under his touch.

I feel him smile against my throat. ‘Lucky old Acorn.' He parts the dressing gown, his fingers brushing a trail down my chest that his lips are all too happy to follow.

And then, after several languorous and very blissful minutes, in a voice full of heat and laughter: ‘Is that… a heart?'

‘We have to get ready for dinner,' I say later, when I am lying with my head on his chest. His fingertips run lightly up and down the bare skin of my arm, and I love the feel of them – the rough callouses from hours and hours of playing guitar, drifting over me like I'm something precious.

‘Can't we just get room service?' he groans.

I prop myself up on my elbow and fix him with a look. ‘No, we can't. They're doing some fancy eight-course menu for us all, and your family are excited to spend time with you.'

‘I'm excited to see them too,' Theo says, wrapping a long piece of my hair around his finger, ‘but no man in his right mind would willingly leave this bed with you in it.'

‘It is a very good bed,' I agree, and I sit up. ‘But I think it will be really nice for you all to be together.' I clear my throat, a little awkward. ‘Lisa actually said something I didn't understand. About you and the wedding.'

‘Oh, yeah?' Theo continues to play with my hair, but I can tell immediately that he's being shifty.

‘Yes, she said that at one point you maybe weren't going to be able to make it to the wedding. But you told me you'd organized everything so you could be here.'

‘Oh, that.' He flops back down against the pillow.

‘Yes, that,' I say, poking him in the side. ‘Spill it.'

‘It's not a big deal,' Theo mumbles. ‘I just… wanted to give her an out.'

‘An out?'

Theo sighs. ‘Look, I'm trying really, really hard not to scare you off right now because I know we're something new and it's delicate, but sometimes being part of my life isn't the easiest.'

‘I don't understand,' I say slowly.

‘Yes, you do.' Theo scrubs his hand over his face. ‘Of course you do. You understand better than anyone. When I'm around, things can get hectic. Lisa's wedding should be all about her. I guess I wanted to give her the option… I mean, to let her out of inviting me without making things awkward.'

I'm quiet for a while as I think that over. It's not as if I can pretend I don't know what Theo's talking about; it's one of the big fears about our relationship that I can't bring myself to face head on. But, still, what he's saying feels wrong. ‘I just don't think she would ever have chosen to be without you, Theo,' I say finally.

‘Maybe, but she doesn't always get a choice about when my stuff spills over into her life and I wanted her to get to decide this one.' He says the words on a sigh, and I think about what Lisa said, about how it felt when Theo joined the band. How her life changed.

‘Sometimes it's easier to just keep my distance, so that they don't have to deal with all the shit around me. I mean look at tonight,' Theo carries on, sounding sad. ‘She could have had all her friends here – we've got the whole hotel booked until Sunday but it's just us for dinner because she doesn't want to have all the…' – here he waves his hand around – ‘fuss that I bring, and I can't blame her.'

I pick up my pillow and thwack him in the face.

‘Ow!' comes Theo's muffled exclamation. ‘What was that for?'

‘Because you're an idiot,' I say. ‘Hasn't it occurred to you that your family just want you to themselves tonight because they rarely get to see you? They're so happy you're here, Theo. Your mum and Lisa both told me that. Several times. In between the very light, polite threats to my person if I hurt you.'

The pillow is still over his face. ‘Huh,' he says finally.

I swallow a smile. ‘Yeah, huh. Idiot.'

He throws the pillow back at me. ‘Stop calling your boyfriend an idiot.'

I still. ‘Did you just call yourself my boyfriend?'

Theo rolls his eyes. ‘Of course I did, Clemmie. Don't tell me we need to have a talk about it like we're teenagers.'

‘Um, I do think it's the sort of thing we should probably have a conversation about. You can't just decide something like that.'

‘Like what?' Theo raises his eyebrows. ‘That we're in a relationship? I thought we'd already agreed. We're sleeping together, aren't we?'

‘Well, yes, but that doesn't necessarily mean…'

‘Yes, it does,' he says firmly, and he's got his hot, stern voice on again. ‘I don't want to even pretend that this thing between us is casual. We talked about it beforehand; we talked about our feelings. We are both adults. I'm in this. I'm with you. So if you feel differently then please tell me now.'

He takes my hand in his and looks up at me earnestly. It feels like all my organs are rearranging themselves. There's fear and joy all muddled up together, but I know he's right about this – whatever is between us is not casual. The way I feel about him is much too big for that.

‘It's not fair making me have this conversation with you when you've got no clothes on,' I grumble.

His dimple appears. ‘I have to make the most of every advantage.'

‘I don't feel differently about it,' I say in a small voice. It's not the most eloquent expression of feeling, but it clearly does the job because Theo pulls me on top of him and then it's far, far easier to show him how I feel.

I lean down, catch his mouth with my own, kiss him slowly, gently, as if we have all the time in the world. His hands come up to frame my face, and he pulls me closer, his tongue caressing mine. There's a hum of pleasure and I'm not sure if it comes from me or him; it seems to echo through us both. This kiss is slow and sweet and filthy all at once. It's an act of tenderness, of possession, and I feel the now-familiar need at the heart of me, the need that seems to have no end, no matter how close we are, no matter how many times we do this, as if I won't be satisfied until I've totally consumed him.

‘Now who sounds like a serial killer?' he laughs up at me after I try disjointedly to vocalize this thought.

‘I thought it was quite romantic,' I insist, pressing one more soft kiss to his lips.

‘Hey, if you're saying you need us to spend all our time pressed together with no clothes on, I will support you in that,' Theo says.

‘Selfless of you.' When I pull away, he makes a sound of protest and it's my turn to laugh. ‘We have to get up!' I say firmly, extracting myself from his limbs. ‘We have to get ready for dinner. We already covered this. Stop being distracting.'

Theo's only answer is to hold his pillow up to his face and let out a string of muffled curse words.

Now, as I scramble out of bed, I can finally get a proper look at the rest of the room. The enormous bed is draped in a canopy of pale, pale blue, and at the foot of it (about a mile away from the world's fluffiest pillows) is a long sofa in a slightly darker blue velvet. This faces the two tall windows with far-reaching views of the countryside. There's a large, marble fireplace, all neatly laid with firewood despite the fact it's summer, and a couple of companionable armchairs arranged in front of it. There's a door off to one side, and I wrap myself back in my dressing gown so that I can explore more.

‘Oh my God, this bathroom,' I moan, taking in the gleaming white tiles, the deep, roll-top bath, the two sinks, the waterfall shower big enough for six people. The floor is warm under my bare feet. ‘When I die I want to be buried in this bathroom.'

‘Not sure a bathroom-slash-graveyard will really fit with their luxury aesthetic,' I hear Theo comment.

When I come back to the bedroom, I find Theo sitting up, his hair standing on end. The crisp, white bedsheets pool around his waist. It's quite the view.

‘What's this?' I point at another door, refusing to be diverted.

Theo yawns. ‘Oh, that's the dressing room.'

‘Oh, of course. The dressing room,' I say, pushing the door open. ‘Just like they have in the Premier Inn.'

The dressing room is actually like a big walk-in wardrobe, one wall covered in mirrors, the rest in built-in shelves and clothing rails. There's a glass dressing table that looks like something from the 1920s. Serena's Louis Vuitton suitcase stands in the corner, but all of my things have been unpacked and organized. Rich people are strange – do they just feel no embarrassment over a stranger rooting around and folding their sensible Marks and Spencer knickers? Hanging on the rails are several dark garment bags.

‘Are these all the suits David sent for you?' I yell. ‘Didn't realize you needed so many options, princess.'

‘Actually, they're not,' Theo says, appearing behind me gloriously naked. ‘They're the things David sent for you.'

‘For me?' I frown.

‘Mmm.' Theo's already wandering away, back towards the bedroom, and I follow. ‘You said you were worried you wouldn't have the right thing to wear, so I asked David to send some things for you when he was organizing my suit. That way if Lil didn't pack something you like then there would be other options.'

‘You organized that?' I ask.

Theo shrugs. ‘I don't think I deserve the credit; all I did was mention it to David.' He looks at me. Frowns. ‘You said you were stressing about it. I didn't want you to be stressing about it. But you don't have to wear any of them if you don't like them.'

‘Oh,' I say. I remember his words earlier. If it's worrying you, we'll sort it out. Maybe it wasn't a huge effort on his part but I feel a lump in my throat at the fact that it wasn't just a hollow reassurance, that he actually did something. ‘Thank you.'

‘Don't thank me,' Theo smirks. ‘If it was up to me, you wouldn't wear any clothes this weekend.'

‘Not sure that would go down great in the family photos.'

Theo wraps a fluffy white towel around his hips.

‘What are you doing?' I ask.

‘You heard my mum.' Theo rubs a hand across his chin. ‘I'm going to have a shave.'

‘Y-you're going to have a shave?' I repeat. ‘Like that?' My eyes dip to his bare, muscled chest, over his stomach, the v-shaped lines disappearing below the edge of the towel.

‘Ye-es,' Theo says slowly, bemused. ‘Clemmie, why do you look like you're on drugs?' He steps closer, tips my chin up with his fingers. ‘Your pupils are enormous.'

‘It's happening,' I whisper in response.

‘What's happening?' he half-laughs.

‘Can I watch?' I breathe.

‘You want to watch me shave?'

I shiver, don't say anything, only nod.

Amusement lights his eyes. ‘Sure, weirdo. You can watch me shave.'

‘Don't call your girlfriend a weirdo,' I say as I trail after him, and then I don't have the opportunity to say anything else for a long time.