Page 42 of Oyster

I smiled to myself in the dark, picturing her disgruntled face. Muffled against my chest, the following giggle was as cute as the snuggly pyjamas she huddled in. She made another uniquely Éti sound of annoyance.

“Sorry for… needing to do that.”

“Don’t say that! You can be, or do, anything with me, Éti. You know that. And I want to turn you on. Like you turn me on. We’re going to learn how to do this together, okay?”

She tipped her head up to gaze at me, flushed, a little bashful maybe, but with a very satisfied grin spreading from ear to ear. “I feel fucking amazing. I didn’t realise sex made you feel so good afterwards. Like I’m stumbling off a roller coaster with wobbly legs. And the rush of excitement—it reminds me of when I banged my tooth against the goalpost, playing against Inter Milan.”

I snorted with laughter. “That’s a compliment?”

“The very best.”

I gave her a sharp poke in the ribs. “Sooner or later, I’d like to bang you against a goalpost.”

“But not in front of the Inter Milan home fans, non?”

The new dawn brought a new Éti, all washed clean and shiny again, in a different set of pyjamas. We were going to have to talk about that at some point, but for now, I let it pass. Because at an unseen moment over the course of yesterday evening, I realised I fucking loved her like I’d never even come close to loving another human being, no matter what.

“Am I going to wake up every morning to you staring at me?”

Éti considered it. “I hope so, one day. Shall I tell you when I knew I could trust you?”

“What, now this minute?”

“Yes, it’s important.”

I’d have appreciated a coffee and a piss first, but they were going to have to wait. Who could resist those imploring eyes?

“Let me guess. Was it, by any chance, after I signed your form?”

“Nope. Before. The day I came to the oyster sheds. Before we had even gone back to my house. I mean, of course I offered you the money anyhow, and tried to persuade you to at least give it some thought. But I could just tell you’d never take it.”

I laughed drily, my throat in need of lubrication. “It’s nice you believe that about me, sweet. But I’m not as pure as you think. I did consider it, for a minute or two.”

She was unimpressed. “Is that all? Most people would contemplate for much longer. But I saw something in your face at the oyster shed. And remembered when you helped me on the beach. A kindness. A concern for other people. You have it now, while you’re eyeing up your phone and hoping I don’t notice.” She handed it to me. “Don’t worry, no one’s tried to call you. I’ve already checked. So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong with your mother, or shall I have to guess?”

A little pause while she raised her eyebrows at me.Ah.I hadn’t been as discreet or as sunny as I’d thought. Charles’s gentle enquiry last night, as we’d sat down to eat, must have given the game away. I’d shaken it off as casually as I could, accompanied by a warning glare, but Éti caught wind of it.

I hauled myself up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “I need a strong coffee before this conversation, Éti. And a piss.”

“Ça alors. Still so romantic.” She scrambled off the bed. “I’ll bring you caffeine.”

Staring into the pan, I conducted my business in the bathroom. What had I hoped to achieve by hiding it from her? The cancer wasn't going to disappear. I couldn't disguise a hospital admission or a death or a funeral. Nor was Éti going to run away in terror, horrified at the possibility of supporting her new boyfriend through a grieving process, the man she’d admitted she wasfalling in lovewith.

I washed my hands and brushed my teeth, then gave myself a dirty look in the mirror. Basically, I’d been a dick. Éti hadconfided her everything in me, the whole baguette, and I’d thrown down a few measly crumbs in return.

I slunk back to the bedroom, where she waited on the bed, a mug of coffee in hand and a tender smile on her face. One of us was an adult in this relationship, and it was the pampered soccer princess. I hauled myself back under the covers.

“She has breast cancer. She’s dying.”

That bald statement. Spoken aloud, for the first time, with a wave of nausea. It wouldn’t improve with repetition. It wouldn’t lessen. It wouldn't know any limits. A man could get fat on it.

“Oh.” Éti contemplated her coffee for a few beats. “Why didn’t you tell me? All those times you checked your phone? When we were in the restaurant and at Florian’s? On the beach even? You were talking to me, your lips were moving, but I knew your head was somewhere else. There has been a part of you closed off.”

And still she wanted me.“You weren’t supposed to notice.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged. “It’s not what you want to hear at the beginning of something new, is it?”

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