Page 83 of One More Day
My heart skips a beat when I get near to him again.
‘Come, sit down and get warm,’ he says, carefully taking a mug from me and bringing it to the floor. I lower myself down slowly, curling my legs beneath me. I do my best to focus on the orange flames that dance a jig in the hearth beside him.
I want to reach across and touch his arm again, but instead I focus on gripping the mug of chocolate in my hands. His arms look so strong and inviting, butImust stay strong of mind at the same time.
He is not mine.
My eyes dart towards his phone which is sitting on top of the magazines on the coffee table beside us. It lights up and vibrates every few seconds, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
‘Don’t you need to get your phone?’ I ask him. He shakes his head slowly, keeping his eyes on me as he sips his drink.
‘No, it’s fine,’ he replies. ‘I can deal with that later. It’s not important.’
‘But it’s late?’
‘It’s OK, it’s not important right now.’
And I am? I want to ask. Oh please, don’t let this be happening. I don’t want to be anyone’s secret. I don’t want to be the cause of another woman’s hurt.
‘Are you married, Charlie?’ I ask him. His face crumples into a smile.
‘Is that what you’re thinking right now?’ he replies, pulling his legs beneath him to mirror my own stance. ‘If I wasmarried, do you think I’d be here spending Christmas in a secluded cottage with you?’
I put down my drink and warm my hands by the fire, all the time feeling his steely blue eyes bore into my soul.
‘You’re not spending Christmas withme,’ I say, managing a smile. I shyly look away. ‘We are spending Christmas here, together, alone.’
‘Together, alone,’ he repeats. ‘Me and my big rules. Maybe it doesn’t have to be like that? Maybe we could relax the rules a little?’
My eyes widen more than I intend them to.
‘Relax them, how?’
‘As much as I’ve fought against it, I like your company, Rose,’ he tells me. My heart skips a beat. ‘I know I’d kick myself later for not taking this opportunity to know you, in whatever way you’re happy with.’
‘You mean, talking instead of texting?’
‘That’s it,’ he continues. ‘That’s exactly it.’
‘So, no more whiteboard?’ I ask him. ‘I’ve grown quite fond of that.’
‘Well, I’ve been resisting so far but my emojis are quite legendary,’ he jokes.
‘As is your cooking.’
‘You think?’
‘I do.’
He bites his lip. I nod.
Our hands are so close now on the floor. My fingertip is pulsating right beside his. I want to touch him, to pull him in, to feel his arms around me.
But I can’t do that – not when I still feel he’s hiding something from me. I desperately want to ask who Helena is, and why she keeps calling him. They might not be married, but that doesn’t mean they’re not romantically involved.
Why can’t I ask him that one simple question?
Maybe because I’m so very afraid of the answer.
