Page 109 of Take My Breath Away
“Happy?” James asks.
“How can you even ask?” His hands are resting on top of the little garden table and I take them in mine and squeeze hard.
My phone’s lying next to our joined hands. We’d been flicking through the dozens of photos we’d taken throughout the day, and it pings as a text drops in.
“Who’s sending messages at this time?” I untangle my hands from James. Then I realise who.
Of course…Life in Spain is lived late.
“It’s Mum. Confirming the flight details for the beginning of next month.”
I can’t help smiling. The last time I saw them was soon after James and I reconciled. It feels like too long a time, but in just a couple of weeks that’s going to be put right. I glance up at James.
“Are you sure about them staying here?”
It’ll be the first time James and my parents will be meeting properly. Sure, there have been lots video calling — and calls from Mum to me afterwards telling me how much she and Dad like him. It’s been a huge relief, and one I’ve kept to myself, because I thought they might have had something to say about the age gap. After all, as James points out, he and they are both old enough to remember the New Romantics the first time round.Who…? What…?I say to him, making sure I turn away before he sees my grin.
“This is your home as much as mine, so of course they should stay here.”What a stupid bloody question, he may as well add.
“I’ll get back to them tomorrow.” I switch off the phone and put it aside, not wanting any other interruptions.
James pours us both another drink. After all the champagne I’ve had, I should be drunk but instead all I can feel is a bone-deep relaxation. Sagging back into the cushioned garden chair, I let go of a long, deep sigh.
Happy? It doesn’t even come close.
“I’ve got something for you,” James says, as he stands up. “I wanted to give it to you at the right time, not when we were busy getting ready for the wedding. Wait here.”
Where exactly he thinks I’m going to go, I’m not sure, as he strides into the house. Maybe it’s a new palette knife. He bought me one a couple of weeks back, the handle shaped like a very big, and scarily lifelike, dick.
Phallic kitchen utensils… That could be an interesting side business…
James returns, and places something down on the table. It’s oblong, wrapped in brown paper and bound up with string.
“This came the day before yesterday but, as I said, I wanted you to have it at the right time.”
Whatever it is, it’s not another dick themed baking accessory.
“James—?”
“Just open it. Please.”
Nervous anticipation wraps me in its arms. I don’t do as he says, not immediately. Instead I look from the plain little package to James. His eyes are in shadow, but I don’t need to see them to know his gaze on me is intense. The air around us, warm and balmy just moments ago, is now charged with skin-prickling electricity.
The string’s lightly tied, and it slips away easily. The brown paper’s crisp under my fingers. Unfolding it I gasp, as its hidden treasure’s revealed.
“I don’t believe it.”
I can barely breathe as I stare down at the book. Shadows from the candlelight dance over its worn cover, the cloth frayed at the edges. With trembling fingers I turn to the title page, and there it is, in Granddad’s spidery handwriting.
“‘To Perry, my favourite grandson xxx.’”
The words blur as tears fill my eyes.My favourite grandson…It was his little joke; I wasn’t just the only grandson, but the only grandchild.
“I’ve been keeping an eye out, on a few sites. I’m sorry I’ve only found the one, but I’ll keep looking for the others.”
“Oh, James, I don’t know what to say. God, I thought they were gone for good. Even if we only ever find one of them…”
My tears stream down my cheeks, but I don’t bother wiping them away. Putting the book aside, I jump up to hug this wonderful, thoughtful man who drags me into his lap and nuzzles into my hair.
