Page 130 of Kiss Me Like You Mean It

‘And…’ I take a breath, ‘my husband doesn’t share.’

Nico takes the phone from my hand and hangs it up before throwing it across the bed.

‘I can’t believe you did that,’ I say as I slump back against his chest. The words are airless. I know I should be annoyed, but my brain is so confused, at cross-purposes with my body, which is lit up with pleasure.

Particularly when Nico pushes my pyjamas roughly aside and slides a finger inside me. I gasp, a shocked sound mingling disbelief and desire. He makes a noise of approval, deep in his chest at finding me so ready for him.

‘No pretending anymore, Daisy.’ His voice is low, as I ride his hand, and I can feel him hard and ready underneath me. ‘We’re in this for real. You and me. Only you and me.’

My head lolls back against his shoulder, and I’m sure there are things I should be saying, things about domineering, bossy men not being in charge of me, but I’ll have to do that later, I’m not convinced there are two working brain cells in my head right now.

I’m too focused on the touch of his hand, his mouth on the tender skin underneath my jaw, the warm, golden feeling in my abdomen, and the tendrils of slow heat spreading through my limbs.

‘Say it, Lee.’ His thumb flickers over my clit as I grind in his lap, and I whine with need. ‘Only you and me.’

‘Only you and me,’ I whisper, and then I come apart.

Chapter Forty-Two

Lee

‘So this is a Roseport Halloween?’ I say two nights later, observing the scene in front of me.

‘Is it everything you hoped it would be?’ Nico asks.

‘It’s… a lot.’

‘Yeah, well,’ Nico sighs. ‘Roseport doesn’t really do subtle.’ He looks around, appreciating it as well. He wasn’t here last Halloween, and it feels good that we’re doing something for the first time here together.

‘This really is excellent hot chocolate,’ I say, sipping from the steaming cup cradled in my hands. It’s cool out tonight, and Phoebe wouldn’t let me wear a coat because it would cover my costume.

‘I told you Kat makes the best hot chocolate every Halloween. I like the crunchy orange sprinkles on top of the whipped cream.’ Phoebe exhales blissfully as Nico holds the cup in front of her mouth and she slurps through the straw Kat gave her.

We’re standing on Main Street, surrounded by a sea of people in costumes. Every single store front is decorated to look like a haunted house with a different theme. There are motion-activated animatronic skeletons that keep making me jump out of my skin, thick spider webs stretching from awning to awning, and an entire plastic graveyard has sprouted along the lawns with names like IMA GONER and AL BEBACK on the tombstones.

On one side of the street a vintage-looking car has been pulled over, its bonnet popped open while several posed skeleton mechanics in high-vis jackets work on it. Rita is dressed as a witch and handing out her most horrifying ice cream flavours. It turns out Halloween is her time to shine.

I look around at the whole scene, delighted. Which is my predominant state of existence at the moment, by the way: delight. Kat had to switch me to decaf coffee because she was ‘genuinely concerned’ about my ‘unnatural levels of perkiness’. I don’t think anyone has ever accused me of being perky before so I can see why it might be unnerving. I actually think I could lift a car with the amount of endorphins flowing through my veins.

I might still be leaving in a few days, but I’m trying not to focus on that – it won’t be for ever. There’ll be FaceTime and phone calls and voice notes and flights booked in as soon as possible. It’s not perfect, but it’s more than I ever imagined would be possible, and more importantly Nico and I are in this together.

That fact still seems miraculous.

‘Well, if it isn’t the Hart family!’ Art suddenly appears in front of us, pumping Nico’s hand, while Annie stands beside him looking faintly confused by the entire world. Art is dressed as a scarecrow, Annie as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, and she carries Button, their sweater-wearing Yorkshire terrier, in a small basket. He doesn’t look impressed.

‘Nice to see you, Art,’ Nico grins. ‘Excellent costumes this year.’

‘Thank you, thank you, you too.’ He gives the three of us a long look. ‘Are you…’

‘We’re from Bringing Up Baby,’ Phoebe huffs.

We’re having to explain our family costume quite a lot. Phoebe came up with it, and she and Nico organised the outfits, telling me it was a secret until the big day. Apparently they co-ordinated with the Roseport Players costume department, raiding their supplies. I’m wearing a long, shiny gold dress that was once part of a Cleopatra costume but has been repurposed as Katharine Hepburn’s lamé evening gown. Phoebe wanted to rip the back off the skirt and have me walk around with my knickers on display like in the film, but I vetoed that pretty quickly, citing potential hypothermia and mortification.

‘I got you a top hat for Dad to hold over your butt, like Cary Grant does in the movie,’ Phoebe grumbled, outraged by the artistic compromises she was being forced to make.

‘I was quite looking forward to that part,’ Nico agreed.

Nico got off easy in a lab coat and a pair of round glasses, clean-shaven, his hair slicked back. Phoebe is the Brontosaurus that Cary Grant’s character is trying to rebuild, and Taco is resplendent in a leopard-print jumper and a headband with a pair of leopard ears on over the top of his actual ears.