Page 37 of When We Are Old

My heart squeezed with such intensity, I inhaled sharply. “Like you used to?”

“Exactly like I used to.”

“In that case…”

“I’ll ring you back in an hour.”

I looked around at the empty living room. “Okay.” I went to hang up, but then called him back. “Hannah’s having a birthday party next week. She said you could come.”

“What?” I could almost sense him stopping walking. “Really?”

“She said it was so I wasn’t bored.”

“To keep you distracted she means.”

“Wow, you haven’t even met her properly and you know her so well.”

He laughed. “Told you. You’ve reconnected me to my teenage self.”

“Speak to you later, Matthew.”

But of course, he wouldn’t. Because I’d already be asleep on the sofa, my wine still in my hand.

Indegestion

Ronnie

Friday evening, I pelted down the motorway to Gatwick. There had been zero point me being in the office, so distracted all I could do was rearrange the things on my desk.

How long could a week be?

Seriously? Seven days had felt like seven years on a trajectory of being lost in space.

I circled around the drop off section once, and then when I didn’t spot my six-foot- four man with a face like beautiful thunder, I circled around again, accidentally ending up in the McDonald’s drive through.

This time he was there and honestly if my heart could have jumped out of my chest and run on teeny tiny red cartoon legs to get to him it would have done.

He stole all my air, all my thoughts. My palms slipped against the steering wheel in anticipation of him opening the car door.

When he did, I inhaled his smell of fabric softener and fresh air like a crack addict getting their first hit of the day.

“Are you smelling me?”

“Yes. It’s amazing. You’d make millions if you bottled it.”

“Ronnie.” He gave me a wry smile and kissed my cheek. I wanted to crawl into his lap like a cat and never move again. “I don’t even wear aftershave.”

“Must be all that Scottish air then. It’s fucking sexy.”

“Potty mouth.”

“Sweetheart, that’s not all my mouth is for.”

Oh my god. What was wrong with me? The moment he got close I lost all my brain cells.

“Sorry. Shit.”

Laughing, he caught my face in his cold fingers, drawing my lips to his. My eyelids fluttered closed and I held my breath as he brushed the surface of my mouth with his own and then darted his warm tongue along my lower lip, giving a firm tummy flipping swipe. “I’ve been waiting all week for that.”