Page 90 of Paper Roses

“Did you do that?” I ask tentatively. “Were you honest about what you needed?”

“No, I didn’t, and we were incompatible in a lot of ways.” He stops talking, and I’m just thinking the conversation is over when he speaks again. “He wanted to bring men into our bed.”

“Really?” I blurt loudly. I’m surprised. Jed has never struck me as the kind of man to share. He seems very possessive, but who am I to judge those things about him? He’s a stranger to me in many ways.

“The first time he invited someone, I was hurt. And that’s why I’m telling you to make yourself clear in a relationship.” He pauses and his next words are passionate. “I would hate to see you unhappy.”

Would seeing me in a relationship upset him? A short while ago, I’d have said no, but my opinions have been changing over the past weeks. I caress his hip soothingly, feeling him slowly relax under my touch.

“I’ll be clear about what I want,” I finally say. Of course, what I want is him, but it’s not the time to tell him that.

“Good. Because that way lies trouble. There’s nothing wrong with an open relationship. Lots of people do it, but it has to suit all the partners. He said he wanted to introduce new men because he didn’t want me to get bored with him.” He pauses and then says softly, “It took me a long while to realise that he was actually talking about himself getting bored.”

I twist to face him, touched by the doubt I hear in his voice. I want to reassure him and make his world right again. “I can’t imagine anyoneevergetting bored with you,” I say honestly.

A smile crosses his lips. He boops me on the nose. “It’s very early days. You don’t know me.”

I’ve just had the same thought myself, but I do know a lot about him. I know that he takes responsibility for everyone and doesn’t seem to know how to turn that off. I know he’s kind, funny, and a bit geeky when it comes to music. I know he can more than physically stand up for himself, but he doesn’t like to use his strength and the power of his body in that way.

Fortunately, I don’t have to debate saying all this for long, because he stands up and grabs a towel to swaddle me in.

“Bed,” he says.

Our conversation is over, but I’m still happy we had it. He’s opened up to me and he doesn’t do that with many people. Surely that has to mean something?

“To sleep?”

He winks. “Probably not.”

“Ohgood,” I breathe.

He laughs as he follows me into the bedroom. I know I’ll be thinking about all this later when he’s asleep, but hope is already a swelling pressure in my heart.

twelve

. . .

jed

I’m stringing white bistro lights along the roof of the cavernous barn, and as I reach out to hook the last strand, I feel the ladder wobble.

“Becareful,” Artie hisses.

I look down at where he has a death grip on my ladder. “It’ll be fine.”

“You’re being rather cavalier with your safety.”

“I’m safeguarding the future well-being of my eardrums. Our bride will be hysterical if her fantasy farm wedding isn’t perfect.”

He grimaces. “Oh my god,pleasedon’t do air quotes when you’re ten feet up a ladder.”

“I can’t help it. That sentence deserves as many air quotes as possible.” I step down the ladder.

Artie says, “She is rather more attached to a bucolic fantasy than the reality of a farm and the animals.”

I too was bemused when the bride, who’d screeched like she’d seen Armageddon on the horizon when she got a mark on her skirt, announced she wanted to get married on a farmwhere there is rather a lot of animal shit lying around. Then I discovered the attraction wasn’t the sheep, but the supermodel who owns the farm.

Sighing, Artie adds, “Grant is still out there scooping up the sheep poo.”

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