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‘Just so you know, I have always been yours.’ He closes the gap between us until his lips are just brushing mine. My breath catches in my throat. We kiss softly at first and then with more urgency than is strictly decent in a public place.
Joe insists on carrying my heavy overnight bag up to Denise’s ward, even though we take the stairs for privacy purposes. I cannot keep my hands off this man. The way he looks at me. The smell of his skin. The soft touch of his fingers. This hospital is full of beds and the fact that we can’t make the most of one without incurring a criminal record is killing me.
Joe leads me to Denise’s ward and we find her dozing, a tray with a half-eaten sandwich and a pot of jelly pushed to one side next to her. I hate to see her in a hospital gown, it makes her look frail.
‘Don’t worry.’ Joe takes my hand. ‘She’s fine.’
I give him a watery look. ‘Pretty sure I should be the one comforting you in this scenario,’ I sniff.
‘I can think of some ways,’ he says, eyes flashing.
So, it turns out we cannot control ourselves in any way. All these months of pent-up frustration are finally being released and now we’re the couple who kiss on hospital wards. I’d be embarrassed on our behalf if I wasn’t so deliriously happy. If this is how good Joe’s lips feel than I cannot wait to—
‘About time too!’
Startled, we pull apart.
Denise is now wide awake and chuckling to herself at the scene we’re making.
Joe clears his throat.
I take a good long look at the floor.
‘Don’t mind me, you two carry on!’
‘How long have you been awake?’ Joe asks suspiciously.
‘I saw you kissing all the way down the corridor. Pretended to be snoozing to give you a bit more alone time,’ she twinkles.
We both look mortified.
‘Oh come on.’ She giggles. ‘I could do with some good news. You know they’re calling me geriatric, Sophie? Can you imagine. I may be in my sixties but I’ve just launched a new business for heaven’s sake!’
Denise starts listing people who have found success in later life, her voice getting pointedly louder every time a member of staff walks by. ‘Martha Stewart. Vera Wang. Iris Apfel. Delia Owens. The list goes on.’
I rest a hand on Denise’s arm and give her a squeeze.
‘They’re treating me like I’m next in line to meet the big JC,’ she tuts.
‘They’re just caring for you,’ Joe replies gently. ‘You’re not used to it.’
She harrumphs. ‘Well, you can take me home now, son. All this fuss over a little fall.’
‘Just as soon as you’ve got your meds, Mum.’
Denise swings her legs off the side of the bed and offers me a seat.
‘Come on, love, why don’t you tell me all about what’s going on. Did this eejit manage to tell you how he feels about you?’
‘Why am I an idiot?’ Joe protests.
‘All this pussyfooting around,’ Denise bustles. ‘You could have saved yourselves a lot of trouble if you’d just been honest from the start.’
‘It’s my fault,’ I say. ‘I couldn’t see the wood for the trees.’
‘You had a lot to work through.’ Denise pats my hand. ‘Don’t beat yourself up. Why on earth my Joseph decided to terrify us all with that nonsense about moving to York, I’ll never know. Sons, Sophie, are a pain in the arse. It’s a good job you’re here. And it certainly looks like the pair of you have sorted things out?’
I catch Joe’s eyes and we mirror each other’s happy faces.
