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‘And for the record...’ she smooths out the creases, eyeing the fabric intently ‘...just in case you need it reiterating, I wholeheartedly approve of your car now that I’ve had the opportunity to test out its versatility.’
I come alive on a laugh, shaking my head as I slip the condom off. ‘You’ll hate the toy I have parked up at home then.’
‘I will?’
I grin as I imagine just how much she’d actually love it.
‘Now I really am intrigued.’
I reach across and open the glove compartment, pull out a rubbish bag and tuck the condom inside.
She watches me with a smile. ‘Are you always so prepared?’
I raise my brows at her. ‘Me? Need I remind you that you were the one with the condom.’
Now she laughs. ‘So true. It seems we make a good team, Boretti.’
I pause, midway to returning to my side. Her eyes are doing that soft little thing again, her voice too, both teasing beneath the walls I’ve had erected for so long. I swallow, my lips curving into what feels both smile-like and serious in one. ‘Does that mean I’m winning you over to my way of thinking?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t go that far...’ She leans towards me, her hand lifting, one finger pointing to tap my nose. ‘Don’t be getting too big-headed on me.’
I chuckle as I ease out of the invisible hold she seems to have over me. ‘I wouldn’t dare.’
‘So do I get any hints as to what it is?’
I frown as I right my clothing. ‘To what is?’
‘The toy at home.’
My smile lifts to one side. ‘Play your cards right and I’ll take you to see it.’
‘Now?’
‘Not now,’ I say with a laugh. ‘How about I take you back to mine after the football on Saturday?’
‘Okay.’ She smiles at me and I don’t have time to even question the suggestion, let alone the reason why I suggested it at all as she adds, ‘But now would be better.’
I laugh all the more, shake my head at her childlike impatience. ‘Do you have any concept of a bedtime?’
‘Sleep is full of missed opportunities; I prefer to make the most of my time.’
Whereas I wanted to sleep all the time. The thought writes itself, frosting up the moment so completely. The sharp contrast in how we approach grief, so marked. But when I was asleep I didn’t have to remember that the nightmare was real. The crash. Layla.
And there’s a part of me that admires Olivia for having the courage to face it, her loss...but then, isn’t hers just another form of avoidance? Distraction. Keeping herself too busy to dwell.
Isn’t it the same need that led to her car accident?
‘Is that why you were driving to Oxford in the middle of the night in your Bugatti?’
‘Oh, don’t you start.’ She huffs and leans back in her seat, looks out of the window, which is so steamed up the outside lights are just a blur. ‘You sound as bad as my sister, Fee.’
‘I do.’
She eyes me, quiet for a moment, and then, ‘So, are you coming in?’
She’s trying to change the subject and as I take in her appearance, her dishevelled hair, her over-bright eyes, her nipples that still strain through her dress and bra, it would be so easy to let her distract me.
‘What does your sister think of your late-night dash?’
