Page 87 of Midnight Wishes

‘I can’t believe you two aren’t even having a honeymoon,’ Sarah said, sipping the coffee that had mercifully arrived at their table.

They hadn’t slept much either.

Abby shrugged. ‘We’ll do something next year, when my PhD’s done and Erik can take more time off work. For now, this is all we wanted.’ Her left hand fell on her husband’s, the slight scrape of gold audible as their rings touched.

‘Yeah, but now I have to live with you as newlyweds.’ Sarah wrinkled her nose. ‘No offence, but you were painful before. I’m not sure I can endure this.’ She gestured vaguely between them. ‘I could go stay with my parents for a few days. At least you’d have some privacy.’

Alex’s head shot up, his back straightening. She wasn’t leaving him the day after they finally got together. The conversation continued, and when their side of the table fell into a lull, Abby and Erik engaged quietly in each other once more, Alex said, ‘Or you could stay with me.’

‘Yeah?’ Sarah’s eyebrows drew together. ‘You won’t get sick of having me around so much, so soon?’

Despite all she might have said about sharing his feelings, he suspected the truth of how much he wanted her around could send her running scared. Never mind that his real fear washergetting sick ofhim, realising he wasn’t worth as much as she thought. ‘It’s not a trip abroad, Princess. You can paint there during the day, if you want, then it’s really just dinner together before bed. And I know I’m on board with that last part.’ He winked. Lowered his voice. Tucked a loose, now slightly frizzy curl behind her ear. ‘Besides, I don’t think I can handle another week away from you.’

There’d been those four days thanks to his job, followed by the two days of awkwardness after the night with the handcuffs, when he’d asked her out. A six day stretch where he thought he could feel the tightness in his heart brought on by her Barcelona news and their fight. Now that knot had released, relaxed, and he wasn’t ready for it to seize up again.

Sarah’s teeth pulled at her bottom lip. ‘You’re sure?’

He had to remind himself how similar they were. That she’d also been hurt. That his wounds around not being wanted were hers too. And as they ventured through the opening stages of this relationship, there would likely be a not insignificant bit of reassurance needed on both sides. But her words last night, thecare she’d taken, had already begun to heal him. He would do the same for her. Showing up for her every day until she realised he was utterly, irrevocably stuck.

‘Would it convince you if I told you I have a hot tub?’

Epilogue

ALEX - 1 month later

Sweet Nothing | Taylor Swift

‘How the fuckare youpregnant?’

Alex’s head jolted up from his laptop to find his girlfriend walking through his kitchen door, a tote bag filled with groceries over each shoulder and her phone pressed to her ear. He’d mock her for that later.Geriatric behaviour, indeed.

Abby?he mouthed, already reaching for his phone to check on Erik.

Sarah shook her head, leaning in to kiss his cheek as she passed him. Muffled words came through the tinny speaker.

‘Yes, of course. I’ll be there in half an hour.’ Her voice was astonishingly calm, given the state on the other end of the phone. But her hands betrayed her, shaking slightly as she cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder before attempting to shove vegetables, wine, and cheese into the fridge.

Alex touched her waist gently, moving her aside so he could take over. He supposed date night was cancelled. They’d planned to cook together—a carbonara, with chocolateand raspberry puddings after—before she introduced him to something called90 Day Fiancé. But everything she’d bought would keep until tomorrow, including the fresh pasta.

When she’d ended the call, now looking shell-shocked in the middle of his kitchen, he went to wrap his arms around her. If not Abby, there was only one other person who would call her to share that kind of news.

‘Zoe’s pregnant,’ she confirmed, voice muffled against his chest. ‘I’m sorry. I know we had plans, but—’

‘Your concerning taste in entertainment can wait another night. Want me to drive you?’ From the moment she’d walked in,pregnantexclaimed in a harsh tone, he’d known she’d be turning right back around. His personal plans, like the food, could wait.

Sandalwood floated around them as Sarah shook her head, tightened her arms. ‘I’ll get the train.’

‘Okay.’ Alex kissed her hair. ‘Text me when you’re ready to come home though, yeah?’ It was an intentional slip, one he’d been dropping into conversation for a while, waiting to see if she’d respond, correct him. She hadn’t yet.

‘She’s meeting us at the Ealing flat.’

He’d noticed that phrasing more in the last week too, when referring to the flat she shared, at least on paper, with Abby. Notmy flat. Butthe Ealing flat. A level of detachment that made him hopeful.

‘I’llbehome, technically.’ Her last word was spoken softly, almost as an afterthought. And it was a technicality at this point. She was at his place most nights. After that first week post-wedding, when she’d stayed with him to avoid theclaustrophobic newlywed bliss, he’d kept encouraging her to stay. When he left for work in the mornings, she took the train back to Ealing and spent the day painting. Then they’d meet for dinner—her place, his place, or out—and inevitably spend the night together. And because he was both too old for flatmates and too tall to comfortably sleep in Sarah’s bed, he normally tried to steer them back towards Holland Park. In practice, her bedroom had been reduced to a studio space. By contrast, his pillows smelled like her, even when the sheets had just come out the wash.

‘I won’t, though,’ he said, grateful her face was pressed to his chest. It still went against his nature, sometimes, to be so open. To let her see that he needed her. ‘Not till you’re back.’ But he tried. And it became a little easier each day.

‘Are you ever going to let me sleep in my own bed again?’ Sarah’s voice was muffled against his chest.

---