Page 49 of Strawberry Kisses

“You know, I’m almost tempted to see that,” Mary said with a wry grin. “When he was little and he got angry, he’d just get very quiet and say he wasn’t going to be my friend anymore and then go and sit in his room.”

“Awww, that’s so cute!” I pressed a kiss to Patrick’s cheek. “That sounds adorable, babe.”

Patrick huffed, his cheeks tinting. “Thanks? I think.”

“I was nowhere near as nice when I got angry. I got petty instead—although that was mostly as a teenager. Once, Kyle Mitchell stole all my make-up and wrote insults all over my bag in Sharpie during PE, and in revenge I pulled a sicky next lesson and casually took all his clothes and put them in the showers with some bright orange dye I’d bought in Wilko.” I sighed almost fondly at the memory. “He looked like an Oompa-Loompa from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and that’s saying something considering how much fake tan most of us wore.The month’s worth of detention was almost worth it. I mean, his mum wanted me suspended, but when my own mum pointed out Kyle had stolen and destroyed a hundred quids’ worth of make-up and written homophobic slurs all over my possessions while the school had done fuck all, they decided against it. Not gonna lie, it wasn’t the greatest school ever.”

“Remind me never to piss you off,” Patrick said.

“Don’t worry, babe. You’re safe.”

“Thanks.” I smiled as Patrick leant down and pressed a quick kiss to my lips, my chest filling with warmth.

We spent the rest of the time before breakfast chilling in the kitchen, chatting with Aoife and John. Mary joined in occasionally, but she mostly just clutched her tea. She’d feel better with food inside her. I always did with a hangover. Mind you, I hadn’t had one that bad in years.

Eventually, breakfast was ready, and we helped ourselves to bacon, sausages, scrambled eggs, fried tomatoes and mushrooms, and mountains of toast. I carried my heaped plate through to the dining room, suddenly feeling ridiculously hungry. It felt like an alien was about to burst out of my stomach at any moment and eat everything it could get its greedy little mouth on.

I sat next to Patrick on the far side of the table while John and Mary sat opposite us and Aoife took the seat at the end. The conversation flowed easily but sporadically as everyone tucked into their food. I was far more interested in eating than talking.

I wondered if there was any cake left, and whether it was acceptable to have cake for breakfast. Although technically it would be dessert with brunch since it was nearly ten thirty. Since I’d eaten a full meal, having pudding didn’t seem like a terrible thing, and it would be rude to leave the cake uneaten. Especially since Patrick had worked so hard on it.

“The barn made a really good venue,” Patrick said offhandedly.

“It did,” Mary agreed. “There was plenty of space for everyone, and it worked well having the bar in the corner and the long tables.”

I nodded. “And there was plenty of room for dancing. It was perfect.”

“If you wanted to make some more money, you could offer it as a reception venue for weddings,” Mary said. “I bet loads of people would love it, especially because they could hire the cottages on the farm too. You could make some of the features permanent, like building a proper bar in that corner for example.”

“It’s a thought,” John said, nodding his head. “But I’d need someone to run that part of the business. I think your mum’d kill me if we took much more on. We’re supposed to be slowing down.”

“So unless you’re offering,” Aoife added with a smile, “it’s probably not going to happen. It’s a nice idea though.”

Mary paused. “I’m not going to say no. I mean, I’m not saying yes either, but if I’m being honest, work is driving me nuts, and I was looking for something new. Besides, it would be nice to work here.”

We stared at her. I couldn’t quite believe she was willing to jump headfirst into something new like that, but it was glorious to watch. Then John huffed out a laugh and shook his head.

“I guess we’ll be holding weddings then. You have a think and come up with some plans, and we’ll take it from there.”

“Perfect!” Mary beamed, suddenly looking a lot less hungover. “I might need some test subjects though.” She glanced at Patrick and me. “You don’t happen to know anyone who wants to get married?”

My heart sank, and I shook my head, my throat suddenly tight. “No… sorry.”

“Mary, don’t tease them,” Aoife said.

“I’m not.”

Somebody said something, but I wasn’t really listening. My stomach was churning, and it felt like my breakfast was suddenly about to make a reappearance across the table. Shit. I’d never, ever meant to let it get this far. Fucking fuck, fuck, what was I doing? It was one thing to pretend to be Patrick’s boyfriend and fool his family, but it was another thing entirely to make them think we were so in love we might want to get married.

That was so wrong on a million different levels.

And yet my heart tugged painfully because I wanted that more than anything else in the world.

I knew Patrick wanted to get married, and the idea of him celebrating here, with some faceless man, smiling and dancing together without a care in the world, surrounded by his family, made me more nauseated than ever.

His family that had welcomed me with open arms and made me feel like I belonged here. Who hadn’t cared that I wore make-up or taught pole or that I was cheeky and opinionated.

A family I wanted to be a part of forever.

My imagination took over, flooding me with visions of what it would be like to marry Patrick—a wedding full of our friends, his family and my mum looking on proudly, summer sunlight pouring down on us as we took photographs in the fields, drinking Pimm’s and eating a mountain of food, feeding each other cake and pushing it into each other’s mouths before kissing. I’d be able to taste the icing on his tongue. Dancing for hours and spinning in circles as the band played until the night sky was dusted with stars before we fell into bed, stripping off our clothes and slowly making love until we were sweaty and sated and I didn’t know where his body ended and mine began.

Christmases here on the farm—loud, joyful, and full of food.

Birthdays together at home, celebrating with friends, curling up with The President and boxes of takeout and Netflix’s cheesiest romcoms after a long day. Building a life together one day at a time.

I wanted that more than anything else, and it hurt because it was never going to come true. Because I was too scared to ever put myself out there, too afraid to risk it all for the one thing I really wanted. Too afraid of more heartbreak and rejection from the one man I loved more than anyone.

But just for today I could indulge. Today I could pretend it was real.

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