“On three?” I suggest.
“One…” he begins.
“Two…” I continue.
“Three,” we say together, and just as I say, “Blackcurrant,” he pulls a jar of deep purple, blackcurrant jam from behind his back.
We both roar with laughter, falling back against the sofa once more, almost knocking everything flying from the coffee table as my legs flail about.
“I knew it!” he manages to squeak out between snorts of laughter. “Soulmates.”
We eat our toast, drink our tea, and make a good fuss over Pax. At about one o’clock in the morning, I can no longer hide my yawns, and Aidan pats my thigh before telling me to head upto bed while he lets Pax out again.
I do as I’m told, far too tired to protest. I don’t even consider going to my room, just go straight to Aidan’s with one small stop at the airing cupboard to grab a clean set of bedding. I’m just changing the last pillowcase when he makes his way upstairs. His big arms wrap around my waist from behind, my new favourite thing, and he kisses the back of my neck.
“Thanks for doing that, baby.”
“It’s nothing,” I reply. We strip, climb into bed, and I find my way back under his arm, burying my face in his armpit. He smells so richly of Aidan here, and I can’t fucking get enough.
“Can I ask you something,” Aidan says quietly from above me, his own weariness showing in the slight slur of his words.
“Mmhmm,” I mumble in reply, steadfastly refusing to lift my head from his armpit.
“When you left London?” Well, that’s enough to make me lift my head to his shoulder so he can look down at me, which he does.
“Mmm.”
“How did you decide to come here? To Fenside Common, I mean. It’s not exactly a well-known place.” I smile as the thought of how I decided to come here surfaces.
“What if I told you that fate sent me?”
Aidan looks confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean it quite literally. Fate made the decision for me. I snuck out of Dan’s apartment in the middle of the night and got in my car. I grabbed my ancient road atlas from the back and flicked through to a random page, then I closed my eyes and just” – I poke his chest the same way I did that road atlas, with my forefinger, right over his heart – “literally stuck a pin in a map.”
Aidan looks at me, dazed in surprise. “That is so not what I was expecting you to say! That’s, fuck, the chances of that?” He leans down and kisses me on the top of my head, which is low-key my favourite thing in the world.
“I know. Fate brought me here. To Fenside Common. To you.” My voice is a whisper now, and I stroke his beard as he gazes down at me, a host of emotions swimming through his eyes. He smiles, kisses my head tenderly, and my own smile of contentment settles over my face as I close my eyes and settle down to sleep. Today has been, quite possibly, the best day of my life. And I can’t wait for the next best day of my life, tomorrow. And every day after that with this man by my side.
Sixteen
Aidan
The next day is quite simply perfect. We stay at home on our own, only going out to the supermarket for groceries and the garden centre for a few things – like a Christmas tree – when Rain says that he has never once in his life had a real tree.
He cooks some absolutely delicious garlic, cream, and mushroom pasta dish for dinner after we take Pax on a lovely, long walk along the river, both of us bundled up in coats, scarves, and gloves against the frigid winter weather.
Christmas is in a few weeks, and Rain and I spend Sunday morning decorating the tree. I dig out all the baubles, lights, and tinsel from the storage shed, and we have a ball listening to Christmas music, drinking wine and Baileys, and creating what must be the gaudiest, most over-the-top Christmas tree I have ever seen.
“I love it,” Rain exclaims, a wide smile onhis face and the twinkling multicoloured lights reflecting in his beautiful eyes. I’ll take a chaotic tree if it makes him smile like that. And to be fair, they were all my decorations. I just normally don’t useallof them.
At about half past ten in the morning, while Rain is hoovering up the tinsel and tree detritus from the living room floor, I get a text.
NASH: You know what’s coming, brother. Mum says you’d better be coming for lunch, and you’d better be bringing, and I quote ‘that sweet angel Rain’.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter under my breath, just as Rain switches off the hoover. He turns to look at me quizzically. “Mum wants us to go over for Sunday lunch. That, erm, OK with you?” He immediately starts to bite his lip. He’s met everyone, of course, over the last few weeks, but only when they have turned up at the boat yard or we’ve bumped into them in Poppy’s or town. We went to the pub a few times for the quiz with my brothers and Wren, too. Rain and Wren get on like a house on fire. But now that things have changed between us, I can imagine he feels a bit nervous? Fuck!Ifeel nervous, and it’s my fucking family.
I’ve been going to Sunday lunch by myself the last few weeks, Rain staying at home and reading in the peace and quiet. I’ve been interrogated mercilessly, but I’ve never told Rain,as I didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable about the idea of people gossiping about him behind his back.