Page 62 of Sleep

“Mark’s working today,” I said. “I track him on my phone, so I know he’s down there right now. So…I’m going to go down there and face him. Apologise. Not throw stuff at him. And—”

“Is this one of your ducks?”

“Ducks?”

“The ones you’re getting into a row.”

“Ah! Yes!” I laughed. He did too. “And I think I will have to properly resign. Walk away. Jump off that cliff.”

“From what I gather, that’s the right decision, and a very brave one.”

“It’s terrifying.”

“I know. But when you jump off that cliff…”

He did that thing again where he held my face, looked at me with so much emotion that I felt like I was floating. Lost.

He made me feel lost. And at the same time?

“This is your home, if you want it. I hear you on the stupidity and impulsiveness, but it’s your decision alone. No one else has the right to define you or tell you that you need your independence and freedom and should get a new job, be a productive, normal human being, whatever that means.”

“Wow!” I whispered, and he kissed me.

“You have people who care. You have people who will look after you. And you have me.”

“I don’t expect you to help me.”

“No, I know that. But you have things—sewing projects—yes?”

“Yes?”

“So you start there. Finish your projects. Get paid. Take on some more. For once in your life, I think you can afford to slow down. I say this as someone who didn’t read the signs. I just kept going, and look at me now.”

“I love you.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Help.

Shit.

“Pickle?”

I couldn’t look at him. What the fuck had I just said?

“Look at me, Mabel.”

More of that chin tipping we both did. Shit. Shit.

I wanted him to speak. To say something. Anything.

I wanted to take it back. Shame engulfed me, which was ridiculous since I meant it. Jonny Templar. Of all people in the universe, fate had to land me a millionaire. A complicated, damaged, closeted millionaire who let me… He’d told me he wanted it. I’d made him do it because he’d asked me to.

I wanted to, honestly, throw myself off something, including the barstool I was still leaning against.

He kissed me again. A soft, gentle one, his heavy stubble scratching mine. We both needed to shave. I needed to grow up.

He started to speak. I wasn’t sure if I dared to listen.

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