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‘I know that. I’m saying no.’
Jesus Christ. Everything inside me protests. I need her not to dig her heels in about this.
I want her to stay. I need her to stay. But I’m not my father. I will never be him. I’m not going to force her, nor pressure her. She’s saying no. I owe it to her to listen to that.
‘Fine.’ I shrug, like it doesn’t matter. ‘But you’ll come back tonight?’
She hesitates and I feel like my nerves are about to snap.
Then she smiles. ‘For a few hours.’ She nods. ‘And I expect you to make the most of them.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I MADE THE right decision. I know I did. The rush of temptation that consumed me when he asked me to spend my last two days in Ireland here, with him, was all the reason I needed to leave.
Because Michael is quicksand. If I stand still for long enough around him, I’ll sink into him for ever. I won’t let that happen. I won’t let myself down like that, I won’t let Mum down like that. This trip...this adventure...it means everything to me.
I made the right decision, but sitting here now, propped up in his bed, listening to the shower running, knowing this is the last morning we’ll have together, knowing he’ll go to work soon and I’ll be heading to the airport, my throat is thick with tears.
I shouldn’t have come over here this morning. I should have stayed at the flat, sent him a goodbye text. He’s supposed to be convenient sex! A fling!
My eyes sting and I dip my head forward. This isn’t about Michael. I’m emotional because of Mum. Because I’m moving on to Paris, the place we talked about over and over, the place she most desperately wanted to see. How can I not be an emotional mess?
I need to concentrate on how exciting this is, to visualise myself stepping off the plane into French air, breathing in Paris, wandering through the cobbled streets, eating by the Seine. All of the things that have been calling to me for years.
‘Your suitcase is packed?’
He steps out of the bathroom wearing only a towel, wrapped low at his hips. I stare at him unashamedly—I won’t get to feast my eyes on him like this again. Something grips in my chest cavity. ‘Yeah. It’s at my place. I’ll grab a cab back there...soon.’
His frown flashes across his features. ‘Why?’
‘Because I kind of need it to go to Paris?’
He smiles—a tight smile. He grabs some clothes out of his huge wardrobe, jeans he pulls on without jocks. Then a sweater. Casual clothes?
‘I mean, why would you catch a cab?’
‘Isn’t it self-evident?’
‘I’ll drive you.’
‘I thought you were going to work.’ That’s why I came to his place so early—because I needed him. I wanted him. I craved him, and I know his schedule like clockwork now.
‘It’s Sunday. I think I can take the day off, don’t you?’
Something like delight curls my insides. I suppress it. ‘Don’t do that.’
A muscle jerks in his jaw. ‘Stop fighting me on shit like this, Millie.’ His face is serious, like a thunderstorm. ‘Of course I’m going to spend these last few hours with you. Run you around. Get you to the airport.’
But it’s moving into relationship territory and I swear I won’t cloud this, won’t cloud my plans.
‘It changes nothing,’ he says, holding out a hand to me.
Reluctantly, I step out of bed and move to him, completely unselfconscious with my nakedness, even when his eyes roam my body slowly, with seductive intent.
He wraps an arm around me, holding me to his body, and flames leap inside me. For the briefest moment I wonder what it would be like if I wasn’t going. If this wasn’t temporary. If there hadn’t been a time limit on whatever we’re doing, right from the start.
But isn’t it more likely that the temporary nature of this is what’s made it so damned hypnotic, so utterly enticing?
