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I frown. “See there lies a problem just there. You don’t call me your girlfriend. I call you my boyfriend but you don’t use that term.”
He flips the eggs as he puts his hand on his hip. “That’s bullshit. I call you my girlfriend and I call you my wife sometimes actually.” He passes me my cup of tea and I smirk as I take a sip.
“And I can tell you I love you … can’t I?” He raises an eyebrow in question.
I smile. “Yes, but why now when last time we saw each other you were telling me that you hate the hold I have over you and that you don’t want to miss me.”
He turns back to the hot plates. “I was just worried that’s all and I thought you were going to die, and it scared me.”
I nod as I take another sip. “And?” I ask.
He turns and looks at the egg flip he is holding as he contemplates saying something. “And I read your diaries.” His eyes meet mine.
My eyes widen. “You read my diaries?” I whisper, mortifie. He nods. “Joshua. They are private, how dare you!” I stand in a rush and he comes over and grabs me in an embrace.
“Tash, I couldn’t help it. I found them when I was looking for pads and shit and then I was just going to read the one where we had sex the first time and then I couldn’t stop.”
I pull out of his grip. “And that’s why you told me you love me, because you read my diaries?”
He shakes his head in a panic. “No, I told you I love you because I do and before I read the diaries I didn’t believe that you actually loved me. I thought you just thought you did.”
“I told you I fucking did!” I scream. “For once it would be nice if you believed what I said!” He is unbelievable, what the hell have I written in those bloody diaries?
He grabs me again. “Baby, stop fighting me. I love you. It doesn’t matter anymore. All of this bullshit that goes on between us doesn’t matter one bit.”
I don’t have the energy to struggle as he wraps his arms around me, and we stand still in an embrace.
“What matters is the two of us being together and me making you happy. I am not going back to America.”
I pull back and frown at him. “Why not?”
“Because I am not leaving you again.”
I smile stupidly. “You’re not?”
He smirks as he shakes his head. “No, I am not.” He bends and kisses me gently.
“And you are going to stop being a drama queen and leaving me every minute.”
I smile. “I am?”
He nods and kisses me. “You are.”
“And you’re not going to America?” I repeat as I rub my hands over his broad shoulders. Hope blooms in my stomach.
“No, presh, I’m not.” He bends and tenderly swipes his tongue through my lips. “Now eat your breakfast because you are going to need your strength.”
“Why will I need my strength?” I ask.
He smirks as his eyes drop down my body and he gently cracks his neck. “Because I have the worst case of blue balls known to man and as soon as you are well enough you are going to cop it … both barrels.”
I giggle as he sits me back onto the stool and he serves up my breakfast.
He bites his toast as he leans over the bench onto his elbows. “You do know I am going to kill Christopher next time I see him, right?” he remarks casually.
My eyes widen and my fork stops midair.
He takes a bite of his toast then smirks and raises an eyebrow in a silent dare to say something.
