Page 190 of Brighter Together

“And chips.”

“Only the best for you.”

We sit side by side at the open van door.

The food is adequate but nothing special.

Neither of us cares.

The sun is dropping behind the mountains, turning the lake gold.

We eat without saying much.

A few months ago, silence used to mean I should probably be doing something.

Answering emails.

Checking tomorrow’s bookings.

Finding the next problem.

Now I can sit beside Ella with cold chips in my lap and feel no need to be anywhere else.

When we finish, she shoves the empty containers into a carrier bag and rearranges the pillows against the other side of the van.

I kick off my shoes and stretch out beside her.

Ella settles against my chest.

Her hand slips beneath my T-shirt and rests on my stomach.

She does that constantly.

Reading.

Watching television.

Falling asleep.

Apparently direct access to my skin is now a basic requirement.

I don’t object.

We lie there watching the last of the light disappear across the lake.

I have been carrying a small blue box in my pocket for nearly a week.

I bought the ring in Wellington whilst Ella was getting a haircut.

Then spent several days telling myself I should wait.

We have not been together very long.

Apparently there are rules about these things.

I don’t know who wrote them.

I only know that somewhere between Manchester, Ella moving into my flat and travelling around the other side of the world with her, the idea of going back to a life where she isn’t there has become impossible to imagine.