Page 45 of Yours, For Good

"Enjoy. See you tomorrow," she said as she made for the hallway.

"Good night, Mrs. Semple," Nora called as I took the thermos out of the basket and sniffed its contents.

Quietly, I brought it to the liquor cabinet and added a splash of brandy into it.

"Ohhh, sneaky." Nora appeared next to me. "I approve. For a proper midnight toast."

"Ready?"

"Let's go."

When I had a second, I swiped the notification of her email away. I had no intention to read it until another time. Not when she was around, in any case.

I would leave the next day. I could read it then. Distance was a refuge I sorely needed, to keep myself in check.

Somewhere halfway to the beach, Nora hooked an arm around mine.

"It's cold tonight!"

"It's worth it."

People already gathered in the sand to wait for the show. A few children ran around and screamed, overexcited, and running on fumes that late at night.

"This is amazing." Nora squeezed my arm. "I want to be in the middle of it all."

We found a small space that fit us both. I lowered the basket to the sand, and spread the blanket down for Nora.

"Sit on the edge of it," I said. "I'll wrap you up. It's quite cold."

"What?" she asked, not immediately following my instructions. "But what about you? The blanket isn't very big."

"It's all good. I have the coffee."

"Oh, no way." She took the blanket from me and, even though she sat on a small fold she rested on the sand, she also made sure to use only a corner.

It made just enough room for me to sit next to her, and for us to share the blanket.

Holding the thick cloth in her hand, she opened her arm to invite me in. "We have our coats, and the coffee, and the blanket, and body heat. We'll share it all."

I rubbed my lips together and checked my watch, like it would gain me enough time to find an excuse. The thing was, I didn't want to find an excuse not to sit that close to her.

I took her invitation and hunkered down next to her. "Twenty minutes to go."

She took one corner of the blanket and tucked it in my coat, her hand practical and assertive under the wool of my jacket. I let her, halfway paralyzed; the gesture should feel innocent, but her face ended up close to mine. A curl of her hair tickled my lips, and maybe I was a bit touch-starved after the hug, because a shiver ran down my spine at her proximity.

"Christ," I muttered.

Distance was supposed to be my savior, and it was crucially— cruelly— missing at the time.

"Huh?" Her eyes turned to me and widened as she realized how close we were.

I gulped. Her hand stopped right over my heart. Enough layers separated us that I didn't think she'd notice the way the poor, confused organ stopped. I didn't move.

"Sorry." She took her hand away and sat back. "I'm totally invading your personal space."

"It's all right."

Invade me.