Page 49 of All Our Missing Pieces

Why had the woman who’d given birth to her not loved her like she loved the little girl who wasn’t even hers?

THIRTY-ONE

It was Sunday morning and I was woken by Luke’s kiss on the back of my neck. We were in my bed, the duvet tangled around our hips, the air around my body telling me that the day was already warm.

Luke’s body was warmer. I shuffled closer to him, into the angle where his torso met his hips, feeling his arm wrap around me and pull me closer still. My eyes were still closed but I could see brightness against my eyelids.

Still half asleep, I let myself luxuriate in the promise of a long, lazy Sunday: perhaps going for a walk by the canal, finding a pub for a Sunday roast, maybe helping Orla bake bread or scones or gather the blackberries that were ripening in the warm August sun on the brambles in the garden.

But there was something else I wanted to do first – wanted to do more.

I turned around in Luke’s arms, my eyes still closed, and my lips found his. His kiss was languorous, as if we had all the time in the world. In that moment, it felt as if we did – our relationship was still new, each kiss still full of promise of a future I was sure we could share. Whatever doubts I had about Beatrice, about what might happen to the life I’d hoped to build at Damask Square, vanished when I was alone with him like this.

He ran his hands over my bare shoulders. I could feel the roughness of his palms from manual work, the strength of his chest where it pressed against mine, his hair tickling my face. Like the first flicker of a candle flame, I felt desire ignite inside me, along with another, deeper feeling that was less familiar.

Is this love? Is this what love feels like?

Then all thoughts and emotions were swept away as his hands moved over my skin, his tongue teased mine and I moved on top of him, my body taking over so it felt as if he and I, the bedsheets and the sunshine, the room surrounding us and the house beyond it, were all just one living, gasping thing.

Afterwards, we flopped on our backs, sweat sheening our skin, holding hands and laughing.

‘All right?’ he asked.

‘Nah,’ I joked. ‘Terrible. B minus, please see me.’

He squeezed my hand. ‘Seriously, Liv. That was – you are – off the scale.’

I propped myself up on my elbow to look at him, suddenly serious too. ‘What does the scale look like, then? Am I in the top fifty? Top ten? Top five?’

I’d never asked him about his past relationships before – or not-relationships, the numerous casual encounters I assumed a man like him must have had before me. He’d mentioned an ex-girlfriend casually in the past, apropos of nothing much: My ex was obsessed with Coldplay; I never got what the fuss was about. My ex used to drink snakebite and black. Once, when I’d commented on Beatrice’s hair: My ex is blonde but I’ve always liked brunettes best.

‘Top one, for sure. How about me?’

‘Top one, too.’ My body cooling, I moved closer, resting my head on his shoulder. ‘But you haven’t had that much competition, to be fair.’

‘Really? You must’ve had loads of blokes before me.’

I shook my head, the hollow between his chest and bicep feeling like it had been made especially for me to lie in.

‘I was a slow starter,’ I admitted. ‘At school I kind of didn’t expect people to want to be with me, so I stood back and watched while everyone else snogged behind the bike sheds. Well, not exactly watched, but you know what I mean.’

‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’ His voice was teasing. ‘There’s a word for people like that, you know.’

‘Stop it!’ I laughed. ‘Anyway, I had a serious-ish boyfriend at uni but it didn’t work out. He cheated on me.’

‘I’m sorry. That must’ve hurt.’

‘Yeah, of course. But we weren’t right for each other, no matter what I thought at the time. I’m over it now.’

He kissed my forehead. ‘I should hope so.’

‘And if I hadn’t been, I would have got over it, like, five minutes ago. How about you?’

‘Oh, I’m over him too.’

I dug my elbow into his ribs. ‘I mean, what about your ex? The blonde one?’

‘Caroline? She was years ago.’