Page 126 of Only Ever You

She’d known he’d meant it teasingly, but in reality, he’d been right.

“Whatever you want to do, Peanut, I’m here with you.”

Twenty days. That’s how long Faye had before she left. There was every chance that things between them could end – go back to how they always had been – as soon as she set the wheels moving towards Manchester. But for now, Bash was here with her.

“Can we pick up some of my things first?” she’d asked.

“I was really hoping you’d say that.”

So here she was in Bash’s warm hallway – which Faye welcomed, given how her flat had indeed been the ice box he’d named it when she’d hurried to collect her pyjamas and toothbrush.

A bead of giddy apprehension rolled through her; this was the first time she would step into this checkerboard and soft cream parlour as not just Bash’s friend, but something more. She didn’t want to get used to the champagne feeling of experiencing new things with him.

Reverent in her realisation, Faye took off her boots and let Bash hang her outerwear up in the cloak cupboard. Now that she knew how long he’d pined for her too, it was bittersweet to realise how much time they could’ve had together already like this. Instead of get-togethers anddinner party nights, he could be coming with her permanently to Manchester instead.

Don’t think about it.If all they had were a few weeks, then Faye promised herself to live in the moment, and hopefully not break her heart too much on the day she left.

“Are you alright?” Bash came up behind her and gently took her bag from her shoulder, which Faye gratefully let go of. After the day of preparing doughs and deciding which recipes to include inBaked’snew menu, her arms were heavy too.

“I was just waiting for you,” she said humbly, reaching for his free hand.

A knowing look crossed Bash’s soft features as he tilted his head and guided her towards the curving staircase. Usually by now she’d have been halfway up it.

“You don’t ever need my permission to do anything in this house, Peanut,” Bash said, taking two of the steps to the first of many floors at a time while Faye followed behind. “You’re always welcome here, you know that? Go anywhere you want. Do anything you want.” They turned the bend in the landing and Bash took the safe second to flash her a smile. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

Who wouldn’t be comfortable in Bash’s home? The ground floor was still furnished as it had been in the roaring twenties, set up with a kitchen and space for dining off of the reception hall, but the rest was as though he’d built it with the comfort of his friends and family in mind. Faye couldn’t wait to dive into her favourite mountain of soft fluffy cushions on one of the sofas in the living room, which was where the group of their friends piled into when they were here together.

“Fais comme chez toi,?*” he said finally – though Faye had no idea what that meant – before depositing her bag at the foot of the next set of stairs and redirecting her towards the living room.

“Do I get to pick my bedroom?” Faye knew exactly the kind of trouble that question would get her into, and she hoped to start the night off right.

Bash looked at her squarely. “I don’t know where else you think you’re possibly sleeping other than in my bed.”

“I’ve never slept over here before.”

The frown that dented his brow was a surprise. “What? You must have.”

“Nope.”

He made the last stride into the living room and flicked on the switch of a standing lamp. As far as Faye was aware, the main lights overhead didn’t ever get used. The bulbs might only be for decoration at this point.

“But … how?” If the dent creased any more between Bash’s brows, she’d need to smooth it out with a cranked palette knife like he was made of buttercream.

“You must be confusing me for some other woman.” Faye batted her lashes to exaggerate her tease.

“I’ve never brought a date back here.” A flash of a grin broke through Bash’s strange defensiveness. “Not to my bedroom, anyway.”

Like someone above her pulled on a string tied to her spine, Faye rose up straighter. “You haven’t?”

He shook his head once. “No.”

So … she was going to be the first? By the end of the night – she hoped, at least – she would be the first woman to cross into Bash’s bedroom. Faye shouldn’t be as excited about that thought as she was. She wasn’t his first girlfriend, or his first mistletoe kiss, but she was the first one here in his home.

Continuing around the room, Bash flicked on various lamps and, wall by wall, illuminated large sketches and artworks and the bookcases stretching on either side of the old Georgian fireplace. The warmth of the lights touched the room’s gold accents, and the slate greys ofthe sofas and chairs faded into the darkness outside of the tall windows.

In a true luxury of a time long ago, the view looked over the private gardens belonging to the square, blanketed in a thin sheet of frost, trees and hedges edging towards being overgrown for the winter.

Neighbourhoods like this didn’t exist where Faye lived. And perhaps her mind jumped the gun for a moment and got ahead of itself, but she could imagine what it might be like to look out across this quiet view every morning. Her chest went all warm and fuzzy at the idea.

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