Page 83 of The Way We Fell

“I’m just glad it’s finally athing,” Cam speaks up from the floor. “I don’t like keeping secrets.”

“Youknew?” Amie’s face snaps to him, her eyes pinning him with a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

“I might have had a little talk with Jay,” he confirms. “He swore me to secrecy. Bro code.” He holds his hands out, defending himself against Amie’s indignance, and she opens and closes her mouth a few times before exhaling in defeat with an eyeroll and another shake of her head.

“Don’t worry,” he continues. “I told him I’d help you hide his body if he ever breaks Katy’s heart.”

Now it’s my turn to be indignant, and I stumble over my words as Amie laughs.

“It’s all gonna work out, Katy,” Cam promises. “The man is crazy about you. Ruth loves you. We love you. It’s all gonna be just fine.”

By the time I get home, the sun is setting. There are lights on in my house—ones I don’t remember switching on before I left—and some 70s rock plays through the speaker in the kitchen as I let myself in and kick off my shoes. My home smells like tomato sauce andJay.

“Breaking and entering is a crime, you know,” I announce as I hang my jacket on its hook by the door.

“Not when you told me where you keep your spare key.” Jay emerges from the kitchen with my pink apron folded and tied around his waist and a red-stained wooden spoon in his hand. He leans down to press a chaste kiss to my lips.

“Smells good,” I say. “Food smells pretty nice too, what are you feeding me?”

Jay laughs loudly, a belly laugh with a low rumble, and I follow him into the kitchen like an obedient puppy. I hop up and sit on the counter beside the stove where something rich and spicy is bubbling away on a low heat.

“Penne a la Bevan,” he announces. “Sundried tomato and chilli sauce with chicken and peppers.”

My mouth waters. “Sounds good. Smells better. Come here.” I reach for him and he steps between my legs. From my seat on the counter, I can almost look him in the eye without stretching. He leaves the spoon on a plate beside the saucepan and wraps his arms around me, resting his hands at the top of my bum as he leans in for another kiss.

“Mmm,” I hum. “That’s better.” He grins and kisses me again.

We move around the kitchen together in tandem, like a perfectly choreographed dance. Like we’ve been doing it for years. It’s natural. It’s what I want to come home to every night, the words caught on the tip of my tongue but not quite ready to leap.

“Guess what I learned today,” he starts, returning to his sauce-stirring.

“Uhh—the grass is actually purple?” He guffaws, flinging the tea towel from his shoulder and smacking me lightly in the chest with it. “Tell me.”

“Pup’s litter—I mean, the litter he came from. Their names.”

“Go on.”

“One girl in the litter—Mari. Short for Marinara.”

I snort.

“His brothers are Meatball and Anchovy.”

I can’t even try to hold back the giggle that bubbles from my throat.

“That’s so perfect. I can’t wait to meet him.”

“I have to be approved first. And we have to be matched. It’s a done deal, in theory, but… we’ll see. I can’t wait for you to meet him, though, Princess.” Jay leans in and kisses me chastely. It’s full of so much tenderness, tears prick at my eyes and I have to blink them back. “You’re gonna love him. And he’s gonna love you.”

After we’ve eaten and I’ve washed the dishes, we compromise on the music playing softly through the speakers and settle down on the sofa, surrounded by twinkling lights. I sit at one end, facing him with my back to the armrest and my feet in his lap.

“What’s your middle name?” I wriggle my toes inside my socks, digging them into that warm space between his thigh and hip, dangerously close to his dick. He’s in his grey sweatpants era, and I can’t deny that I’m enjoying it immensely. He shifts, resting my heel on his thigh and lifting my foot into his hand. He digs a thumb into the arch and my head falls back on a moan.

“Fuck, that feels good,” I gasp. “Holy fuck.”

“Jay is actually my middle name,” he says in response. “My first name is Christopher. Like my dad and my grandad and every other male in the family line. They all have Christopher somewhere in their name. Mum wanted to keep tradition, Dad didn’t want a junior, so they used my middle name instead. And it stuck.”

“How did I not know that?” I twist my lips. “Christopher Jay Bevan. I like it.”

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