Page 50 of An Unexpected Kind of Love

“Yes, but”—he draws me into a lingering kiss—“they’re notyou.”

The kiss is bliss, meaning more after making myself vulnerable before Blake by talking about my past. He didn’t run, didn’t bolt. Hearing a little about his background with his family makes him more real, like we’ve discovered some common ground between us. And now I’m literally tongue-tied and twisted with Blake, and I’m grateful.

“Any luck in the camera shop?” I ask eventually. “I never asked.”

“Finding you there was lucky,” Blake says affectionately, which leads to more kisses. He grins as I shake my head, laughing. “I was just in getting a couple of filters, no new camera for me either. Sometimes I take a few shots while we’re waiting between scenes or on breaks. Beats sitting around all of the time. When I can, anyway. It’s not always so simple. Depends on the shoot.”

Intrigued, I gaze at him. “Would you show me any of your photos? I mean, ones not on Instagram?”

“If you’re good. Or…not.”

It’s my turn to nip at him, and his shoulder is my target. He shivers and reaches to smooth my hair.

“I can be very not good,” I promise solemnly.

He laughs, obviously pleased. “Only if you show me yours.”

“Dirty man.”

“Filthy.”

We laugh and I lift my head slightly to peer at him. He’s languid, a hand behind his head, looking entirely at ease.

“You actually slept in my terrible sofa bed?” I ask as we both sit up at last.

“I actually did. It’s not so bad. And I finished your book, ’cause I’ve been up for a bit and didn’t want to get caught out like a creeper watching you sleep. I do think you tend to sell yourself and your surroundings short. It’s all charming, like you.”

“You saw my sink,” I point out. “That’s a nightmare, not charming.”

“Well, Imightgive you the sink.” Blake laughs.

I gaze from him around the room. It’s so small and so full of books, from floor to ceiling, us tucked in a corner on the sofa bed, the desk under another cascade of books, plus the books stacked in front of the tall shelves. The few bits of wall are covered in vintage prints and posters. A red acoustic guitar sits on a stand in a corner.

“Most people don’t live in their stockroom.” I shake my head with a sigh. “I mean, I didn’t used to.”

He takes my hand, squeezing it. In response, I shiver. “Well, I think you’ve got a perfect setup. Three-second commute to work. And entertainment too. Didn’t know you played.” He nods at the guitar.

“My dad’s. I guess you’re right, that it’s convenient being here, but…” It all comes back then, after my suspension of reality, lost in this alternate universe with Blake, where time stills. Coming back to the real world is terrible. I’d rather live in this moment, because it can’t last for a million reasons. And now I’ve got a damaged shop in disarray.

With a sigh, I rub my face with my hands. I don’t want to deal with any of it.

“If you don’t mind my asking, why do you live in your stockroom?” Blake asks curiously.

It’s a fair question, an inevitable question, but a question that squeezes a groan out of me anyway.

“Because I couldn’t afford a flat of my own after my last relationship ended.” I look anywhere but at him. “I’m putting most of my salary straight back into the shop, because it’s struggling a lot, to be honest. I own the shop, since my mum signed it over to me a couple of years ago, not long after my dad died. I can’t let her down, because she’s got too much to deal with already without me being the Barnes that makes the shop go under. Plus, I want to help her,” I confess, daring a glance at him. “So everything’s fucked up.”

Blake’s quiet, taking this all in. He’s contemplating me, all angles in the low light, his hair delightfully tousled. Is he regretting this, regretting me? Spending time with awkward Aubrey Barnes in his disaster shop?

Instead, he draws me into a kiss. “That all sounds like a lot. And admirable too.”

“Admirable!” I laugh, but I don’t feel it. An old familiar feeling settles in the pit of my stomach, grief and loss and the lingering shadows of the past. “No. I’m trying to do my best after my dad died. My mum hasn’t been well since then. Well, before, really. She can’t work anymore. So I support her. And when things ended with Eli, it just seemed like I needed to focus on her and keep the shop going.”

“Do you mind if I ask what happened with your ex?” Blake asks tentatively. “You can tell me to fuck off otherwise. I don’t mind.”

My head snaps up. I wasn’t expecting that. God, what to say that doesn’t sound all woe is me? There’s theI wasn’t good enough for himor theI wasn’t fun or sexy enough for himor theeverything got too real once I left uni after first year. What comes out is a bit different.

Stick to the facts. Brief, succinct, to the point, Aubrey.

---