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It was exquisite and slow and they moved together, wordless, looking into each other’s eyes, saying all they needed to with their bodies while the cool air bathed them in the scent of mown grass and the sound of evening birdsong and, distantly, the music from where the people they loved were celebrating their marriage.
‘Come with me, Sophie,’ Cal whispered when the tension had built to the point of exquisite torture. ‘Come with me, my love, my darling, my heart.’
And she did as they flew free, came home, became one. Converts to love at last.
THE END
