Page 67 of One Night on the Island

I run the back of my fingers down her jaw, her collarbone, the curve of her breast.

‘Two –’

‘You’re doing two?’ She frowns. ‘Now I feel like a lazy cow.’

‘Two – I was proud to know you today.’

‘Mack …’ She leans in and touches her mouth to mine. ‘Thank you for tonight. You made me feel special.’

‘Well, I hope so,’ I say because I really do.

She flops back on her pillows, her arm flung over her head.

‘Three,’ I say, when she turns her face to look at me again, ‘it was the best sex I can remember of my thirties too.’ It’s a difficult confession to face. In the early days of me and Susie, I’d never have been able to imagine us running out of steam, in bed or out of it. This time with Cleo has shown me different; I’ve remembered how it feels to be wanted and it’s heady.

‘And four,’ I say, breaking our rule because it’s her wedding day, ‘you’re the most spectacular person I’ve ever met.’ I raise her hand to my lips. ‘And this, right here, is the best damn holiday romance ever.’

Cleo smiles, her eyes already closing. I lie awake and watch her sleep, thinking about the sliver of her heart now patched on to mine. I’m going to need it.

Cleo

27 October

Salvation Island

I’VE STOLEN JENNIFER GREY’S BEST LINE

I wake before Mack does. There are no storms gathering on the horizon; the forecast for the next couple of days is clear and calm, as if the weather gods agree that it’s time for Mack to leave. I look at him now, passed out and peaceful, and I can’t imagine being here without him. He fills my days and my nights, my thoughts and my arms. I came here on a self-love mission, and the other night I told Mack that I love him a little bit. I didn’t plan on saying it, but I don’t regret it either because it’s true. I had no expectation of him saying it back, and that’s okay too.

‘It’s a little stalkerish to watch me sleeping,’ Mack says, his eyes still closed.

‘I’m not watching you,’ I say. ‘You just happen to be in front of my eyes.’

‘You were totally watching me.’ He grins, opening his eyes, and I look from one to the other, enjoying their irregularity.

‘Your eyes are just so you,’ I say. ‘Unexpected. Startling.’

He turns my hand to his face and kisses my palm. ‘Startling?’

I nod. ‘You’ve startled me.’

He pulls me close and settles the blankets over my shoulders.

‘Will you be okay?’ he asks, pressing a kiss against the top of my head.

‘I think so,’ I say, after a pause. ‘Will you?’

He holds me closer still and breathes a sigh into my hair. ‘I think so.’

‘I’ll miss you,’ I say, even though I’m determined not to let melancholic shadows darken the time we have left together.

I feel his nod. ‘I’ll miss you too,’ he says. ‘These last few weeks have been some of the best of my life.’

I lift my face to look at him. ‘I know you mean finally coming to Salvation as much as meeting me,’ I say, to lighten the mood. ‘But … more me, right?’

He laughs. ‘More you. Definitely more you.’

Time is an unequal thing. A minute waiting on a cold train platform feels like an hour; other times, an hour can pass in a blink. These last days and hours with Mack have raced by at warp speed – every time I look at the kitchen clock it’s as if the fingers are a tag team dashing around the face with more speed than they’re entitled to. We were walking on the beach after breakfast, and then I blinked and we were on the sofa by the fire at dusk. We clutched steaming mugs of coffee outside on the steps at daybreak, I blinked and it was whiskey in my hands under a sky full of stars.

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