‘Let me see?’ I scooted over and sat on the floor next to him for a minute. He handed me the camera and I rested it on one of his legs, and leant on the other one, as I cycled through the shots he’d taken so far. ‘Charlie!’
‘What? What’s wrong? Are they not what she wants?’
‘No! I mean, yes. They’re perfect. They’re absolutely perfect! She’ll love them! Promise me you’ll take my wedding photos!’ I laughed.
He looked down at me. ‘I thought you said you didn’t see yourself getting married.’
I tilted my head, still looking at the shots on the screen on the back of the camera. ‘True. But these are so beautiful. You might change my mind.’
‘Might I?’
I looked up and met his eyes, their blue enhanced by the deeper tan he’d acquired from travelling, alongside the great weather here at home. The white shirt he wore, sleeves rolled up to mid forearm, set both off perfectly. It was pretty damn easy to see why the bridesmaids were falling over themselves to call his attention. I was half tempted to find a spare corset and try it on myself.
‘What?’
‘Huh?’
‘You said something about corsets.’
Oops.
‘Oh, something for the blog,’ I blustered. ‘Thinking out loud. Sorry. Concentrating now. Promise.’
I pushed myself up from the floor, using Charlie’s knee as a crutch. ‘Right, Bailey, are you ready for round two?’
‘Will you throw in the towel for me if it looks like I’m losing?’
‘Nope. Not an option. Go get ’em, Tiger!’
He stopped and looked at me. ‘Go get ’em, Tiger?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It just came out.’
He gave me a full-wattage grin, snagged my hand with his free one and pulled me along to go get ’em together.
* * *
It was half past ten and Charlie and I were sitting, or rather slumped, on his sofa, each holding a very large glass of wine, and both trying to find the energy to actually make the move to bring them to our lips. The large windows were open and the muffled sounds of a summer evening in the city blew in on the faint breeze. A single lamp lit the room as the sky outside lost the last deep blue of twilight.
‘I’m shattered,’ Charlie said, eventually.
I made a ‘mmh hmmn’ sound of agreement and took a swig of wine.
‘Lie in tomorrow?’
Charlie rolled his head on the back of the couch to look at me. ‘I think we both deserve it, don’t you?’
‘I do. But I’m having the boys tomorrow. So, think of me when you’re lying sprawled in your bed with nothing to do all day.’
He raised one tired brow. ‘You probably shouldn’t tell blokes to think of you when they’re lying in bed.’
I whacked him with a cushion.
‘I get the hint. But my point still stands.’
I whacked him again because I was too tired to think up a clever reply right now. I’d probably have a zinger of one ready for tomorrow. He took the cushion off me and tucked it down the side of his hip.
‘What have you got planned with the boys?’
