‘Completely,’ Rosie promised, burying her face in his tanned, soap-scented neck as he walked them – seemingly effortlessly – towards what used to be the spare room.
As the door closed behind them, coherent thought deserted her – drowned in the tide of bone-melting kisses, overcome by the heady glide of skin on skin and the elation of being seen, known and desired.
Chapter 24
‘So,’ Niamh said, as she and Rosie sat on either side of her kitchen island the next morning. ‘How have you been?’
‘Er – good,’ Rosie replied, feeling like she needed to warm up a little before she could say,I’m marvellous, actually, on account of having slept with my hot flatmate three times in twelve hours.
‘You look good,’ Niamh said, narrowing her eyes. ‘Suspiciously good. Did you buy more new makeup? A different moisturiser?’
Rosie said nothing, but noted that Niamh, in unusual contrast to herself, didnotlook good. For the first time in as long as Rosie could remember – probably since Niamh’s break-up with Christian, the pretentious wannabe actor who’d dumped her during her second year at university – her friend looked harassed. Drained. She appeared more than tired, somehow: as if she was weary in spirit, and not just knackered from juggling work, childcare and the everyday business of living.
‘Ah. Thanks. I haven’t, though. Are you OK?’ Rosie said, changing the subject with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
‘I feel like a cat who’s been killed eight times and is merely awaiting the sweet release of death,’ Niamh said. ‘Or like I’ve been run over by a bus, which – for good measure – has reversed and then run over me a second time.’
‘That good, eh?’
‘Yeah. The twins’ night sleeping – or lack thereof – is pretty much killing me. It’s like they’renocturnal. And work is mad busy, too. But I’ll be fine. It’s just been a tough week.’ She waved a hand blithely, as if to indicate this subject was now closed.
Rosie couldn’t help thinking that, with two babies to take care of, a husband who worked long hours and a very demanding job, all Niamh’s weeks must be tough. She resolved to try and be a better friend – to check in more often, and perhaps take the twins out when she could for the sake of giving Niamh the chance to nap.
‘How goes the flatmate hunt?’ Niamh asked.
It took Rosie a moment or two to work out what she meant – not only because the question came out of left field, but because she genuinely hadn’t thought about trying to replace Aled in weeks. Barely at all since he’d moved in, if she was honest.
‘Well. It … doesn’t. Go, I mean,’ Rosie said, not able to bring herself to lie.
Niamh’s eyebrows knitted. She compressed her lips into a flat, worried line. ‘I thought the artist formerly known as Nameless Neighbour was set to move out after Christmas?’ she asked. ‘Aren’t you leaving it a little late to find someone else? Surely the renovation’s getting there now.’
Rosie bit her lip and stared at a particularly interesting pattern on the natural stone work surface. The thought of Aled moving out made her heart hurt, though she supposed there was no reason to think it wouldn’t happen. No reason except every kiss, every touch, every whispered endearment they’d shared last night.
‘Rosie?’ Niamh demanded.
‘Um … I haven’t found anyone yet. I’m sure things will work out for the best.’
‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘I don’t know yet.’
‘You’re talking in riddles,’ Niamh declared, her temper fraying. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘Nothing’swrongwith me,’ Rosie said, beginning to feel riled herself.
This wasn’t how she’d imagined the morning’s conversation would go. She and Niamh were supposed to drink coffee while the twins napped, eat a few biscuits and discuss – in gleeful tones – the incredible night she’d just had, as well as what it might mean. Rosie also needed to relay the revelation that James was engaged to Dylan, though this seemed far less important than the rest.
‘Oh my god,’ Niamh said, closing her eyes in understanding. ‘You’re shagging him, aren’t you?’
Rosie’s face was clearly all the answer her best friend needed, because she followed this up with: ‘Iknewthat “just boffed” glow couldn’t be down to cosmetics.’
‘It’s not like that,’ Rosie said. ‘It’s … more than that.’
‘Oh my god,’ Niamh said again, wearily this time. ‘This has disaster written all over it.’
Rosie felt stung. ‘A few weeks ago we sat in this very kitchen and youtoldme I should sleep with him! You were all in favour of – and I quote – a fling.’
‘But that’s not what this is, is it?’ Niamh asked. ‘I can see it in your ridiculously radiant face. The train has left the station – you’re well on the way to falling for him. I can’tbelieveI didn’t see this coming.’
