“Wow! Is that what you really think of me? That I am predictable?”
She laughed even harder now. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s cute. I think it’s cute you only wear black and dark grey suits to work, with either blue or maroon ties. It’s cute that you eat a bowl of Hi Fiber bran every single day of your life with one cup of almond milk and one spoon of sugar, and that you eat your lunch at precisely ten minutes past twelve, and that you have the same sandwich every single day, without mayonnaise, because you think it’s messy.”
He looked at her for a moment or two and then swerved off the road. “Predictable?” He turned the ignition off and unbuckled his seat belt. “Would someone who’s predictable do this?” He undid her seat belt and then yanked her towards him.
She laughed. God, he loved that laugh. The sound of it, the way it made him feel.
“Would someone predictable do this?” He pushed his seat back and pulled her onto his lap.
She gasped and then giggled.
“And I’m guessing a predictable person wouldn’t do this either?” He unbuckled his belt and pushed up her skirt.
She widened her eyes and looked out the window. “We’re on the side of the road.”
“I know,” he said. “And guess what?”
“What?” she asked.
He pulled her panties aside as he managed to free himself. “I’m going to do this.”
He guided himself inside her and they both moaned.
CHAPTEREIGHTY-SIX
Poppy
“Butterfly world?” I asked, standing in the parking lot and looking up at the sign. “But it’s closed.” I read the operating hours.
He walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. We smelt of sex and sweat and unpredictability. “For you, I’ve opened it.”
“What?”
“Well, technically Ayanda opened it. She promised that we’d give them a small donation.”
“Told you Ayanda was good.” I turned around and kissed him on the cheek.
“Yes, you did.” He let me go and moved to the trunk of the car, where he pulled out a bag.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Picnic,” he said, closing the trunk.
“What exactly is this place?” I asked. I’d never been here before.
“I came here with Emmy and my sister once, many years ago. And I wanted to bring you here because I know you’re going to love it.”
“Am I?” I asked.
“Let’s go inside and find out, shall we?” He held his arm out and I took it.
It felt good, the way it slipped into his, and the way that when it did, we felt like we belonged like this. It had been a strange two weeks; I’d been staying in the guest house and we’d all fallen into a routine that, until now, I hadn’t known I needed. But now that I had it, I didn’t know how I was ever going to exist without it. We’d all eat breakfast together in the morning, and then he would go to work and Emmy would go to school. I’d spend the morning sending out my CV or going to meet agents or casting directors. In the afternoon, I’d fetch Emmy from school and we’d hang out until he got home and we would all eat dinner together. And the next day, we’d do it all over again. But I knew this wasn’t permanent, this wasn’t the answer to all my problems. I still had bills and no job and nowhere to stay, really—this was temporary.
We walked up to the entrance and someone opened up for us. We walked in and I couldn’t believe it. We were inside a massive greenhouse. It was full of streams and tropical plants and the hot, moist air was full of colorful butterflies fluttering around us.
“It’s . . . It’s . . .” I was amazed. I had almost lost the words.
“It’s all yours,” said the woman who’d let us in, and then she walked out.
