Page 102 of One Night in Edinburgh

‘I’d have got you a present, obviously, but as it was all unplanned and I didn’t know…’

I chuckle, then a thought occurs to me. ‘I know what you can give me for my birthday.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Anna says she’s not approving “us” unless I return with your surname and other key info.’

‘Ah, OK.’ Jamie shrugs in easy acceptance of this. ‘Well, you know my surname now.’

‘Do I?’

‘You didn’t clock it from the newspaper article?’

‘No.There was a lot of other stuff in there.’

‘It’s Morgan.’

‘Jamie Morgan.’ I test it out. ‘I like that.’

‘Regarding the rest… ask me you anything you want.’

‘You’re on.’ I rub my hands together gleefully. ‘Anna’s gonna love this.’

Chapter 33

When I waken the next morning, I’m disorientated and for a moment I forget what went on the evening before. Rolling over, I blearily rub at my eyes and when I open them, I see Jamie propped up on his elbow beside me, grinning away.

‘Morning, sleepy head.’ He leans across and kisses me gently. ‘How’s the hangover?’

‘Surprisingly, not too bad.’ I reach up and ruffle his bedhead man curls. ‘How did you sleep?’

‘Far better than I have in a long time having you beside me.’

‘Me too.’ I gaze at him adoringly, then prop myself up on the pillows and look around me. ‘I can’t believe I’m in Jamie’s flat.’

‘I can’t believe you just referred to me in the third person.’ He chuckles.

‘Well… it’s exciting. To finally see something of yours.’

‘I guess I can understand that, although this place is rented. It’s not really mine.’

‘I don’t care. It has your Jamie things in it. That’s enough for me.’

‘Aww… look at you all cute.’ He wraps his bare arms around me, which I notice are less muscular that when I first met him – probably because he no longer has a gym membership, and he’s been through a hell of a lot.

‘I am kind of cute.’ I put on my most adorable look.

‘Yes, you are. Cute and sexy and real. My favourite combo.’

‘Ooh, I like that.’

‘Want a coffee?’

‘Definitely.’

We get out of bed and go through to Jamie’s tiny kitchen, which, with it being a one-bedroom tenement flat, feels quite out of proportion. It’s only about two metres by a metre and a half and just about fits a sink, fridge, cooker and a couple of cupboards, yet the ceiling is about three metres above us. Jamie puts the kettle on and preps our mugs, then turns to me and slips his arms around my waist.

‘I’ve been wanting to ask you something…’ He trails off uncertainly.

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