Page 8 of One More Gift

Henry presses a kiss to my forehead and my heart aches to watch him leave.

“See you tomorrow,” he says, one hand still on the doorknob.

“Tomorrow.”

Chapter 5

Saskia

An hour later, I’mtossing and turning beneath layers of blankets, thinking of all the things I want to say to Henry, and all the things I want to scream at Casper.

My bedroom door creaks open, soft light spilling in from the hallway. I sit up, my eyes adjusting to the intrusion, but I don’t need vision to identify the man sneaking into my bedroom in the middle of the night.

His large frame fills the room, his head almost skimming the low ceiling. I’ve lost count of the amount of times he’s hit his head on something in this old house.

“What do you want, Casper?”

“I’ve come to make amends.”

I pull my blankets up higher as he stalks towards me, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“You’re not sleeping in here,” I hiss, leaning to switch the bedside lamp on.

Alone in the dark with my ex-husband is a dangerous place to be. My body betrays my mind far too easily.

“I know that, but I can’t sleep until I tell you I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean to intrude on your plans with your friend.” He takes my hand in his palm, gently stroking the back of it.

He has always had beautiful hands, well-groomed, but calloused from hours spent holding a paintbrush. To witness him use them in his work has always been a joy, to watch them bring pleasure even more so. When I don’t pull away, he turns my hand over and begins massaging my palm.

Some women like a long soak in the bath to unwind at the end of a long day, others prefer a foot rub. One of the best things about coming home to the London flat we shared was him pulling me into his lap on the sofa and soothing the tension out of my hands while we caught up about our days.

Eventually our hands would separate, the tips of mine tracing long, slow lines up and down the veins in his forearms. Sometimes his would slip beneath my waistband and tease me through my underwear. Other times, he’d flip me over and spread me across his lap, tug my skirt up and—

“Henry is here,” he sighs, snapping me out of my hazy trip down memory lane. My eyes flick up to his.

“Yes. He is.”

“So it’s time?”

How can I explain why Henry is here when we haven't even had the chance to talk amongst ourselves yet?

“Angel, I am not a stupid man. Yes, I am often blinded by your beauty…” he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and leans in close. “But I see everything that goes on in your mind.”

It’s true, nobody knows me better than Casper. He has been with me for so many years. For all the successes and failures, the dreams and desires. He’s seen me at my best and worst, in sickness and in health, in all those things we vowed we’d mean forever.

“He has always had a special place in your heart. I knew this would happen one day.”

His eyes lock with mine and I feel stripped bare.

If Casper De Luca knows me well, so does Henry Stone. He’s been my best friend for years, always by my proverbial side, even when we’ve been living on opposite sides of the Atlantic.

“Truly, I didn't mean to interrupt your reunion.”

“It’s fine,” I relent. “I thought I’d told you we would be here.”

“So you forgive me?” he says, batting his eyelashes.

“Yes, I forgive you, as long as you promise to leave in the morning.”

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