Page 95 of When We Are Old

I glanced over at the girl running on the sand. Ewan set chase waving a spade dangling vibrant green strands of seaweed.

“I used to be scared of your silences, but now I know what to read in them.” He turned my face, using a gentle finger to make me meet his gaze.

“Matthew, it’s not that easy.” I wanted to tell him about my blow job revelation, that we should probably go to the chemist on the main street and find out what we’d done, but I held back, muted by the intensity of his gaze.

“You gave me this, to be your best friend.” He pulled back the light wool of his jumper, pushing it up the muscles of his forearm. I watched in horror as he slid his finger under the faded strands of cotton I’d once plaited together one distant rainy afternoon. We'd been laying on our tummies on his bed, the future stretching before us in an unknown.

“Don’t break it,” I cried, but too late. He snapped it so easily, I could only wonder how it had stayed on there so long.

“So you gave it me to be your best friend.” He unravelled a strand and then lifted my left hand wrapping it around my ring finger. “I give it back in the hope of being so much more.”

Breathless, I looked up into his eyes and within the depths of heaven and slate I saw every single thing I’d ever wanted.

I nodded. My words lost, maybe never to be found again.

“I love you.” He pulled me in tight, kissing the top of my head.

“And I love you.” And we might be having a baby, or it could be early menopause. I didn’t know. I thought either of them could be equally bad, and how would we do this, be us, be all of this and live in two different places?

I didn’t say any of it. I snuggled into his chest and breathed him in.

“Come on. I think Hannah needs dunking in the sea.”

“Ohh.” I chuckled. “She’ll never forgive you.”

His smile stole my breath. “Course she will.”

I chased after him onto the sand, all my cares lost in the wind.

“Liam’s chasing about McDougall.” Matthew wiggled his eyebrows at me across the kitchen table.

“I don’t want to talk to Fred while I’m on holiday.”

Or maybe at all.

My cheeks heating, I dropped my gaze to my empty plate. I’d eaten everything and had seconds. I knew I was reading too much into it, but nonetheless, I still hadn’t had the conversation. Didn’t want to. Call me an ostrich, but I liked my head in the sand while Matthew laughed and looked so carefree in this little cottage.

“But you love Fred.” Matthew arched an eyebrow. “If I remember correctly, you got very territorial about him and said,” he folded his arms over his chest, “‘he’s very talented you know, I had to fight for him’.” I laughed at the poor mockery he made of my voice.

“That’s rubbish.”

“Aye, but you get my drift.”

“I said I’d give him more responsibility. If I call and check-up while I’m away, it looks like I’m not doing that.”

“True.” Matthew’s gaze lingered on my face. “But you’re the ‘Boss Lady’.” His fingers quoted the name Fred had given me.

My cheeks turned inferno hot. “Do not call me that.”

Matthew laughed and grabbed his wine glass, tilting it in the light and watching the ruby red liquid cling to the glass. I took a miniscule sip of my own—stupid I know.

He looked glorious in the kitchen, a thin navy sweater pushed up to the elbows. His dark hair was swept back, his eyes bright, smile easy and disarming. His wrist was now strangely bare without the cotton I’d placed there. I glanced at my finger, my heart tangling with my newfound hand furniture.

“He told you, didn’t he?” he asked.

I glanced up from my hand and met his gaze.

“Told me what?” Why did my voice have to choke like that?