Page 43 of Charlie Sunshine
“I’m sorry,” he says, wiping his eyes. “You just looked so funny.” He snorts and starts to laugh again.
I sigh long-sufferingly. “Oh, just carry on laughing, twatface.” He gets himself under control, and I smile at him. “I’m so glad to see you.”
The honesty is stark in my voice. It speaks of how much I’ve missed him and how lonely I’ve felt.
He immediately nods in complete understanding. “I felt like I’d had my arm chopped off,” he says softly.
We smile at each other, and then I make hasty steps to undercut the mushiness. “Glad it wasn’t your right arm. You’ll need that for all the wanking you’ll be doing now you’re a single man.” He stares at me, and a thought stuns me. “Unless you met someone down there?”
The idea makes me reel. I’m struck by an image of him moving to Norfolk and marrying a farmer and spending his days spinning straw. I then realise that I’ve inadvertently made him into Rumpelstiltskin due to a complete absence of knowledge as to what farmers actually fucking do.
“No bloke,” he says, his dimple popping suddenly. “But maybe that’ll change now.”
“Why?” I whisper, thrown by how glad I am that he’s not met anyone. The idea has never bothered me before. He’s a serial monogamist, always looking for the one, while I’m the reverse and always looking for the anyone right now.
“Didn’t you say that you’d find me a bloke?” He grins. “Nowthat’ssomething I’d pay to see. You as a matchmaker.”
“Did I say that?” My stomach sinks like I’m standing in a lift.
He looks at me as if he’s finally realised that I’m steadily losing my mind. “I was joking, Misha,” he says.
“It’s still a good idea,” I say heartily. “It’ll besomuch fun.” Even I know that sounded like a lie. His brow furrows, so I break into more words. “I can do matchmaking.” I nod furiously. “I will mostcertainlydo that.”
I’ll find him the best bloke imaginable.He deserves nothing less. I rub my stomach. I feel sick.
CHARLIE
Misha is in a slightly odd mood, but I dismiss it as the strangeness of being apart for six weeks. I don’t think we’ve ever been separated for that length of time, so we’re bound to be a bit delicate with each other. Although not to the extent of me behaving like Princess Aurora as my prince carries my case for me. Mind you, I’ve experienced my fair share of pricks, so Aurora and I have something in common.
“I can do that,” I protest as he carts my case through to my bedroom before dumping it on the bed. His biceps bulge under his suit jacket and I cup one laughingly. “Been at the gym a lot since I’ve been gone? You have been bored.”
I’m so focused on his strange expression that I don’t notice he’s stepped away from me until he’s on the other side of the room. I frown at him.What is the matter with him?
Then I remember the tiredness that had been written all over his face when he’d come home a few minutes ago, unaware that I was watching him. Misha exudes such competence and security that people don’t realise he’s entirely human and can be quite vulnerable sometimes. I’m honoured I get to see that side of him. And the fact that he’s been reluctant to show that side to me lately is unacceptable. I’ve been leaning on him so much, and it’s high time I repay the favour.
“You’re tired,” I say, sitting down on my bed. “I’m going to cook you some nice meals now I’m back.”
“And bake?” he asks hopefully.
I smile. “Anything for you.”
A wry look crosses his clever mobile face as he watches me fold into a cross-legged pose. “How on earth do you manage to contort yourself like that, Charlie? It doesn’t seem natural to be that bendy.”
“It’s perfectly natural in flexible people,” I say calmly. “You should really try yoga or something.”
“I also should really try tightrope walking, but that’s never going to happen either.”
I shake my head at him as I rise from the bed. I begin hanging up the clean clothes from my case, separating the laundry and tossing it into the laundry basket.
“It’s good to be back,” I say, smiling at him. He’s leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. He’s wearing that odd expression again, almost as if he’s looking at a stranger. I pause en route to the bathroom. “You okay?”
He straightens. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“No reason apart from the fact that you’re looking at me like I’ve got ten heads.” I toss my washbag onto the bathroom counter and turn back to him.
“If you had ten heads, your hair would fill this building.”
I laugh, and he flings himself onto my bed, bunching my pillows under his head and settling with a sigh.
