‘Henry?’ River asks.
‘The love of my life,’ I explain. ‘We’re currently on a break. His decision, not mine. He left me four weeks ago and I can’t seem to—’
‘Yeah, yeah, got it.’ River waves me away as if I’m boring him.
I tut, look back towards the sky and continue my plea. ‘But instead of my writer’s block being solved, or Henry wanting me back,Riverhas somehow shown up. No blame from me, though, Universe. Mistakes get made. These things happen.’
‘Yeah, these things happenall the time,’ River snarks.
‘And, as you can see, River really really does not want to be here. And I really really do not want him to be here. There is zero point in him being here. So if you could kindly send him back to wherever he came from? That would be, um, much appreciated. Thanks and best wishes.’ I glance at River and gesture towards the clouds above. ‘You need to express your gratitude.’
‘Express my gratitude? To the sky?’ he scoffs. ‘Yeah, I don’t think so, lady.’
I huff, my normally healthy supply of patience startingto wear thin. Henry, writer’s block, my failure to once more make it through the gates of the cemetery and nowthis? River’s unhelpful attitude rankles. I fold my arms across my chest. ‘Look, obviously I know your fatal flaw is that you’re a stone-cold cynic, but we need this to work. I agree, it is ridiculous. Believe me, I know. But I’m trying here and this is the only idea either of us have. Can you just go along with it? You’re not the only person who has a life to be getting on with, so could you stop being an asshole and help me out a little?’
River’s eyes narrow.
I quickly cover my mouth with my hands. I’ve never had a short temper before. That was more Josie’s speed, so much so that my inability to get angry often got on her nerves. At my core, I’m a passivist. A lover, not a fighter. I’ve only ever fought back once in my life and the consequences of that incident have firmly stopped me from ever doing it again.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say immediately. ‘I didn’t mean to take that tone with you. It’s just … this isverystressful.’
River eyes me thoughtfully. ‘No, you’re right, I am being an asshole. Not the first time I’ve been given that note.’ He lifts his chin. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Oh! Okay then. Thank you. I accept your apology.’
We lock eyes for a brief moment. Then River blows the air out through pursed lips and looks up awkwardly. ‘Gratitude. Right. Um, yeah, thank you to whoever is responsible for …this. You have my gratitude. Now, please, for the love of God, could you make it stop?’
I hand River a biro and a blank sheet of paper from mynotebook. ‘Now we each need to write our manifestations down on a piece of paper and then burn them on the candle.’
‘So dumb,’ River mutters, then catches himself. ‘Sorry. I guess that cynicism runs pretty deep.’
We take a minute to write down our requests then hold our papers over the flickering candle flame, the pair of them catching into one single orange-blue blaze. They gently crackle and spit and just as they burn down to ash, an unexpected and almighty rumble of thunder booms from above us so loudly that it vibrates beneath our feet. A blinding flash in the sky lights up the whole rooftop with its bleached glow, the sharp snap of it making me jump.
‘Shit!’ I startle when the rain starts to fall, quickly gathering up the candles and my blanket and shoving them back into the carrier bag before everything gets soaked through. ‘What the hell?’
‘Wait! Is … is this it?’ River yells over the sound of the sudden rain as he scrambles up onto his feet. ‘What’s happening? Is it working?’ The lightning crackles right above us three times in quick succession, tinging the sky with an other-worldly purple hue. Another roar of thunder surrounds us, like it’s wrapping itself around us. I gasp.
River’s jaw drops. ‘Holy shit. Something’s happening. You were right. I think it’s working! Ha! It’s working! I’m going home, baby!’
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘Take me home, Goddesses!’ River calls to the sky, lifting his arms wide as if offering himself up. Another outrageous rumble of thunder – the loudest I’ve ever heard – calls out as if in answer. I’ve never seen anything like it! Gosh. I think thisisit. Somehow, it’s working. My God. Am … am Imagic? Can I domagic? River spins around in the rain like a man who’s just been given a reprieve from a life sentence. ‘Here I am! Take me back to Bedlam! I’m ready!’ I can’t help but start to laugh as he starts to kick at the fast-forming puddles like a wild-west Gene Kelly. ‘Take me home!’
River’s eyes meet mine. He sees me laughing at him and starts to laugh too. We shake our heads, full of shared relief and incredulity at what we’re witnessing. I start to spin in the rain too and then, to my surprise, his expression abruptly shifts, gaze travelling up and down my body, olive-green eyes suddenly glinting like a shark, if a shark had really pretty eyes. I peer down at myself to see that Mrs Casablancas’ kaftan is now fully soaked through with rainwater and fully clinging to the not insignificant curves of my body. My whole deal is pretty much available for the viewing. And River is very openly viewing.
‘Plot twist,’ he murmurs as if surprised, eyebrowsfurrowing, tongue swiping his lower lip like he’s hungry and I am lunch. And right there, in that facial expression, I see the River Oakley I wrote – the obnoxious, arrogant womaniser with the face of an angel; the cowboy who broke the hearts of endless good women all across Burnet County without a second thought.
‘Shame I couldn’t stick around for a little longer,’ he calls out over the downpour, blinking away the glittering droplets of rain that look like dew on his eyelashes. ‘We might have had fun, you and I.’
I am not the only one drenched through. The Shakespeare T-shirt clings to the planes of River’s chest and I find myself wondering what the skin beneath would taste like mingled with rain. Which is unusual because while I enjoy sex as much as anyone, I’ve never particularly considered myself a horny person. And especially not since Henry leaving put my self-confidence in the bin. I actually had to re-watch the Fleabag and Priest scene online just to double check the fire did still ignite given the right stimulus. It did ignite. Just like it’s igniting now.
And then, because this all feels like a fever dream, and because I’m a romance writer in the middle of a raging storm, standing in front of an unbelievably gorgeous wet cowboy who is about to disappear for ever. Because I’m tired and weary and want to feel better than I do for just a moment. Because he’s looking at me like it would be welcome. And because after a lifetime of good guys, I’m more than a little curious about this bad one, even if he is a figment of my imagination. For all of those reasons I stepforward onto my tiptoes, grab the collar of River’s drenched T-shirt and pull him towards me. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. It’s a pleased sort of surprised though. I’m about to do a very unlike me thing and boldly press my lips right on his when he shifts his head backwards, perusing my face like I’m a curiosity to him.
‘Hi there,’ he murmurs eventually, voice a low, intimate growl.
‘Um, hello,’ I reply, my heart starting to thud with the anticipation of what’s about to happen.
And then, eyes fastened on mine the whole time, River starts to unhurriedly dance his fingers down my back, stopping when his hands are very definitely on my bottom. He squeezes playfully, pulling me closer towards him, a slow half-smile on his face. My breath catches in my throat. His hardness feels certain and delicious. I press myself against him and … sigh. I actually sigh.
