Page 91 of If We Were Young
He stopped walking right in the middle of Waverley station and turned to me. I almost whimpered as he removed his arm from my back, but then gave a silent cheer as he cupped my face instead, his thumb brushing my cheek.
“Stop overthinking everything. I don’t know what’s going on here anymore than you do. I’ve got no ulterior motive, no agenda.” His lips skimmed mine and I hiked in a breath. “I’m just glad we got on that train together.”
“You are?”
“I think I’ve shown you this morning just how excited I am that we got on the train. Ronnie, I’ve no idea how this pans out, but I wouldn’t change it for anything. That’s all I can say right now.”
I nodded. That was more than I could physically say. More than I’d ever said. I opened my mouth to respond with something equally profound, but nothing came out. He waited but then grinned and kissed the tip of my nose.
His words hummed around in my head like bees above pollen while I set them in order. “Wait a minute. What do you mean yours?”
He laughed, his icy breath fogging. “My house.”
“I’m going to see your house?”
“It would be rude for you to come all this way and I don’t even make you a cup of tea?”
“But I’m staying in a hotel tonight?”
My knees wobbled as I met his gaze. “If you like.”
“Or at yours?” My voice rose with the optimism of an overexcited teenager… because that's what I was. The teenager in me seemed determined to bulldoze her way out.
“Your face is giving me mixed messages.” His lips quirked.
Ooh my face. I tried to calm myself down and school my expression into anything other than insane excitement. I couldn’t. My cheeks wouldn’t drop, my eyes wouldn’t stop scrunching.
I tried again until he laughed loudly. People rushed past us, but we stayed an island on the platform.
“Now what are you thinking of?”
“Dead kittens.”
“Is it working?”
“No.” I eyed him. “So, you and me, in your house. Just us?”
“Who else will be there?”
“Uh. Your children, ex-wife… I don’t know, hundreds of brothers?”
He laughed and pulled me in tight, my legs sagged as he pressed a kiss to my temple. “The boys will be with my mother. She’s having them my weekends these two weeks while I work on saving the company, so, no, she won’t be there. And it’s too small and I’m there, are two very good reasons for Julie not to stop by; those and the fact we aren’t on speaking terms right now.” Interesting, his divorce was acrimonious—I should have asked questions like that last night instead of just snogging the face off him. “Oh and my two brothers will be falling down drunk at the party so I doubt they will want to be at my house.”
He gave me too much, my brain couldn’t work that quick. I settled for, “That’s nice of your mum to have the boys.” Swiftly followed by, “Party?”
“Ronnie. Stop.”
He dropped my face, disappointingly without a kiss, and caught hold of my hand. In his other he wheeled my small suitcase, his leather overnight bag balanced on top.
I hesitated as he pulled me away.
This was it. It was all the dreams I used to have. All the secret wishes I’d hung onto.
I was going home with Matthew.
The houses were smart: four storeys and black railings. The road curved a little in an arch, sloping away and around a corner, trees holding the first blush of blossom lined along smart green verges.
He stopped at door thirty-six. Two pints of milk sat on the top step and Matthew bent low to pick them up, passing them to me as he juggled his keys. “Here.”
