Page 107 of If We Were Young

“You told me you didn’t marry her for her money.”

A deep hurt registered within the confines of heaven and slate. “I didn’t. I did it because it was the right thing to do.”

“For who?”

“Everyone.”

“But her dad bailed out your dad’s company. I thought you broke up with her that night you stood on my doorstep.”

His expression clouded. His hands came to my throat, slipping over my skin. I shivered in my slip of a black dress. “I was so angry with you. And…”

“And?”

“Dad said I needed to do the right thing. What sort of man was I to chase dreams? He said I needed something stable. He said you were a dream.” His lashes closed, resting on his cheeks.

“What then?” I whispered.

“I gave up dreaming.”

There was a space in his words, an echo.

“Ronnie… I…”

I pulled him in close, my nose trailing his skin, revelling in the warmth. Leaning into his ear, I pressed my mouth to the warm lobe, licking it with the tip of my tongue.

“Oh.” We both sprung apart at the sound from the doorway. Lynn’s expression morphed from shocked to sly in a split-second. “The doorbell rang, Matthew. Did you not hear it?”

“Ugh.” He grinned and the boyish glow made my knees weak. “I’ll get it.” I melted at the smile he sent me.

“Sorry.” I cringed in Lynn’s direction. “That’s a bit awkward.”

“Oh please. I’ve been waiting years to see that boy of mine smile.”

“Five years is a long time.” I nodded. I knew all about five years. Ten years. Fifteen years. A lifetime.

“Oh, sweetheart I’ve been waiting longer than that.” Another sly look. “So are you here as a colleague or girlfriend?”

“Ohh. Um. Colleague I think.”

Girlfriend isn’t a title I’d ever owned with Matthew. It always belonged to someone else.

“Perfect. Where did you say you were from again?”

“I didn’t. Surbiton, it’s a suburb outside the south of London.”

“Aye, Lassie, I know it.”

There was a loud shout from the hallway, and she gave me a smile that lifted her pretty rounded face and made it shine as bright as candlelight. “The Carlings are home.”

Panic mode commenced. “Okay.” I clung onto the table-top and breathed deep. Somehow, I had to keep myself together.

“MAAAM! Why’s the footie not on?” A deep voice thundered. I trembled down to my black shoes.

“It's okay, they don’t bite so much as shout a lot and eat all the food. Three boys; it’s just as well we owned a supermarket.”

I laughed, the tension ebbing a little.

“Nanny.” Jack ran in. “Uncle Ryan and Uncle Liam want a beer.”