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Chapter Five
I lift my head slightly and look past his chest to the clock. It’s six a.m., Christmas Day morning. I grumble and bury my face back in his chest, losing myself in his warmth.
“Uh, Jesus. I’ve still gotta wrap presents,” he grumbles.
I can’t help but laugh hard. “Me too.”
Lying in bed with him naked is probably the only thing I will ever need. I wish I could remember it ever being like this with Ian, but it never was. The sex was good in the beginning but he’s never been affectionate, not like Paul.
He pulls me closer and kisses my forehead. “Last night was amazing.”
“It really was.”
We didn’t get to sleep until two or three, and I lost count of how many times we did it. In the end we both got so tired, he fell asleep where he lay as we kissed and I nestled into his shoulder, dropping off instantly.
“I’d better get going or they’ll think I’ve fallen asleep in a park or something.”
“I’m sure they know you’ve been at a friend’s house. It’s not unusual, right?”
“Um, no, when I’m in the neighbourhood, I’m always back before two at the latest. Mum’s nerves, you see.”
He’s a good son, a good friend… a good fuck. What is there that he’s not good at? Oh, yeah… committing.
He plays with my hair at the same time as I’m stroking his back.
“I do love you, you know?” he whispers in my ear. “You know that. You know that’s why I’ve been trying to be in touch all year. You know how I feel.”
I curl into him even tighter, trying to fight my tears. “But you’re not ready for a relationship.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry.”
I push my face into his chest, shaking as I cry silently.
“You’re amazing, Lily. You should be with someone better than Ian. You know, none of us have ever liked him. He’s a bit of a twat.”
I ignore his tone of voice – conceited, with a hint of arrogance.
“Did you sleep with me to save me or something?” I lurch up in bed, trying to catch the sheet against my chest.
He laughs it off, but that only makes me feel worse.
“Lil, you know I’m here with you because I care, because I don’t want to see you end up living a lie with him.”
“It’s temporary,” I growl, “until you sort yourself out and realise what it is you want.”
He throws himself out of bed and dashes to the living room, pulling on his underwear, then his jeans and t-shirt. He’s looking for his socks and I’ve found my robe by the time we realise we’re not alone in the flat. The kettle is boiling in the kitchen.
Suddenly, Ian’s in the doorway, drying a mug on a tea towel.
“I think yas better explain,” he says, in his deadpan Irish brogue.
How much did he see? Did he only just get in? What the fuck’s going on?
“You’re meant to be in Ireland.”
“Ferries got cancelled. Bad weather. I drove through the night so I could be here with you in the morning. Should’ve stayed in a hotel and waited for the weather to pass.”
Ian gives me a look but never once turns his attention to Paul.
