Page 103 of When London Snow Falls

Ben kisses me. We give over to the urgency of our bodies, keeping as quiet as we can. He’s hard against me. I tease him while he shivers and I savor every response, no matter how little. Before long, his head’s thrown back against the pillows, lost in pleasure as he’s nude on the covers.

I kiss the inside of his wrists, his elbows. His nipples. The cascade of freckles over his shoulders.

When I take him into my mouth, he groans with ecstasy. “Don’t stop.”

I don’t stop. His shudders only urge me on, the taste of him sweet on my tongue. And I tease and suck. And Ben whimpers until desperate words tumble muffled into his arm. “Oh God—Charlie, I can’t—”

So fucking hot. As he comes, I watch with frank admiration. That he can lose control so completely and give himself over, this incredible man who’s somehow fallen in love with me and me with him. What a funny thing this universe is, how unpredictable. But I can’t get upset, because it’s brought me Ben, like the snow that falls again beyond his window.

After another round, we wake up into a bright late morning, as though in a dream, a cascade of white drifting down beyond the window. Disoriented, with Ben in my arms, I wonder if we’re back in December, in the dream of Ben’s London bedroom. We are in his bedroom again, another city and month away. His skin is warm against mine. I’ve wrapped myself around him, the blankets sheltering us.

“So much for breakfast,” I whisper, kissing his shoulder.

Ben laughs sleepily. “They call it a nooner. Except at 3:00 p.m.”

“You’re a fount of information, Morrissey.”

“I aim to please.”

I hold him tight against my chest, trying to imprint this moment in time.

“Is this really real?” I murmur my question against his ear.

He shifts so that we’re looking at each other across the pillows. “Totally real, lovely. The realest.”

We lose ourselves in kisses, wrapped close.

“I can’t wait till you’re back in London,” I admit. “I’ve missed you.”

He flashes a grin. “Soon. I’ve missed you more than I can say. Only a couple of weeks more.”

“Mmm, good news.”

“Aye. Good thing, too.” Ben gives me a serious look.

“Why’s that? You miss me already?” I tease.

“Naturally. And it’s not even Valentine’s Day. Brace yourself.”

“You’re going to need a musician-repellent for Maximus St. Pierre,” I say solemnly. “I’ll give you a bouquet of garlic.”

Ben laughs and I laugh too, and we’re lost in gales of laughter together. Imagining a string of days like this with Ben ahead lifts my spirits. Like we’ll be able to navigate the year ahead, to the end of my uni and beyond, all of the way to Emily and Carys coming to London.

Together, we drowse in kisses and bask in bed beneath the crisp sheets till we’re starved and at last ready to take on the day, which Ben has off. When we emerge from our private cocoon, Dani’s gone out. Eventually, we too go out into the snowy world, hand in hand.

When we reach outside, everything stills in the quiet evening white blanketing Edinburgh. We linger for a kiss, the promise of everything that lies before us hopeful and new.

Epilogue

Chewing my lip at my reflection—neatened dark mop of hair, freshly shaven, green eyes like my daughter’s—I finish adjusting my tie in the mirror. There’s wrapping and neatening up, my fingers knowing the routine by instinct from years of school days and uniforms, appropriate for today’s long-awaited graduation. This day took a lifetime to come. My shirt is crisp and white, the red tie standing out as a splash of color that my mother will doubtless find scandalous.

Carys, perched on the counter against me, reaches for my tie. “Want.”

I glance down at her. She’s already in her spring dress and gives me a curious look as she alternates between watching me get ready and playing with her full skirt.

“You’d need a suit, then, darling. Like mine. Ties tend not to look right with dresses. You don’t have the collar, for starters.”

Carys considers this. “I want suit.”

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