Page 53 of When We Are Old

“It will always be hers and my dad's to me.”

“So you aren’t tempted to say you want to buy it from her?”

“I can't afford this!”

“You’ve got Paul’s money in it though?” He watched me carefully, gauging my responses.

“Yes, but I’ve spent loads on the business. The money I inherited from Dad is also in the house…” I huffed a breath, puffing my cheeks like a hamster after a feast.

“Do you want to stay here to be with me, or because you are avoiding your dad’s shop?” I narrowed my gaze, my shit detecting meter ticking over.

He pinched his eyebrows with his index and middle finger. “It’s hard for me to see myself in his shoes.”

I snuggled closer, wedging myself under his armpit. “You don’t have to wear his shoes though, do you? Isn’t this the time to make it yours? I thought that’s what I did with the rebrand.”

He nodded, kissing the top of my head. “You did. I guess during all those wilderness years working for Julie’s dad, I always thought I would get more out of life, that I would achieve something.”

“But you are.”

“Says the woman who runs her own business?”

“A business that has been dying for the last year. A shiny office does not a career make, take my word for it.”

Matthew sighed, pushing his ribs against my skin. “I think back to the dreams we used to have at uni. I remember you wanted to be a teacher.”

“And you said I’d just drop red wine over all the books I had to mark.”

“You would.”

“I know.” I snuggled further, trying to seep myself into his skin.

“Don’t you miss those dreams?”

I shrugged. “I think my biggest dream is you being here. It still doesn’t feel real.”

Reaching down, Matthew grazed a warm kiss on my lips. “I’m here. Will be here until Tuesday if you like.”

“I like.”

“So you had questions?”

It took a moment for me to remember the conversation from hours ago. “Ah! When did you stop smoking?”

His face clouded and I wanted to chase it away. “When my dad died.”

“Why are you so ripped? You were always slim and sexy, now you are built and sexy.”

I loved the pink on his cheeks. ‘I’m not ripped, Ron. I run, I run a lot.”

Laughing I shifted out of his grip so I could throw back the duvet. “Nope. This is ripped.”

“Although, I’m flattered you think I’m sexy.” He smirked and it made my stomach lick with warmth.

“When you say run… exactly how far do you mean?”

“A few miles, nothing major.”

I pulled a face and he laughed. “I might break into a gentle jog in the morning to get my coffee.”