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She shakes her head. “No, actually it’s not.”
I glare at Nathan. “This is your fault.”
He smiles alluringly. “Are we having a tiff?”
Throwing my hands up in the air I let out a growl and walk out of the room, grumbling the entire way.
“Would you like to explain?” Mum says to Nathan.
“Certainly,” he states. I wait for him to continue. He doesn’t.
My mum loses her patience. “Well? Go on.”
“Go on what?”
“Explain.”
“Explain what?”
My mum lets out a growl similar to the one I just did only moments ago. “Explain what the hell is going on with you and Gwen.”
“Oh, you could have said that.” She’s going to hit him, I just know it. I snigger slightly, wanting to see my mum’s face but not daring to look around the doorway for fear of being pulled into the conversation. “I’ll have pudding,” Nathan calls. “If you’re still offering.”
“Why will nobody answer me?” Mum whines to herself because nobody answers her. “We’ll talk tomorrow, Guinevere.”
I hope not.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Climbing into bed with Nathan after settling Dillan in his cot, I lie on my back beside him, our arms touching. He turns onto his side, propping his head up with his elbow. His hand traces my face, starting at my brow and brushing over it softly before moving down my nose.
I close my eyes and ask the question that’s been gnawing at me ever since he confessed his secrets earlier today. “Why did you hit Caleb? Was that because of me?”
His fingers, that were moving over my cheekbone, go still. “That’s a long story.”
I peek at him through slightly parted lids. “We have time.”
He sighs, flopping backwards onto his back. “I’m tired. Can we discuss it another day?”
I roll onto my side and prop myself up on my elbow, much like he did seconds ago. “You’ve already told me some of it. Surely you can…”
He gives me a look, the same look he used to give me when I was living with him and he found me irritating.
“Fine,” I snap and roll over, putting my back to him. “You promised no secrets.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not discuss the man who took your virginity whilst I lie in bed beside you.” He says this softly, his tone not matching the look he gave me. “Why did you used to walk backwards on the beach? I used to sit and worry you’d fall. Not that you’d hurt yourself; apparently sand is soft to land on when you’re not too high.”
“Footprints.” I gulp, thinking back on the days I was, as he said, carefree and innocent. “I used to be amazed by footprints.”
He moves closer. I feel his chest against my back. Again, he props himself up using his elbow and starts stroking his fingers through the side of my hair. “Footprints?”
“Yes. Footprints.”
“Why footprints?”
“Because on the sand you can see them, but only for a short while.”
He runs his chin over the curve of my shoulder. “I’m still not following.”
“It’s silly. I used to be obsessed with wondering who had walked over that spot before me. Were they sad? Were they happy? What had they been doing?” I laugh a little at the thought. “I miss having such a clear mind, where those kinds of thoughts were the only ones I woke up with.”
His lips press against my shoulder. I feel them smile against my skin before his arm comes around my waist and his face nuzzles into my neck. “Go to sleep.”
My eyes close and my body relaxes, especially with his heat smothering me in the most delicious way.
Just when I think he’s fallen asleep, he shifts and presses his cheek against my ear. In the quietest voice, he whispers, “Tell me you love me, Gwen.”
My breath catches in my throat. I push back against him, snuggling my backside into his crotch as my hand finds his by my breast. I hold it tight and whisper in the quietest voice, “I love you, Nathan.”
He kisses the side of my jaw, directly below my ear and holds me even tighter.
Moments later, we fall asleep.
When I wake up in the morning I’m shocked to find the bed empty beside me. I’m also shocked that the sun is shining and Dillan hasn’t awoken yet. Upon further inspection, I see that Dillan is also missing.
Nathan.
Climbing out of bed, I rub my tired eyes and try to focus through the blurry coating of dryness that rests over my eyeballs. I don’t prevail, so I stagger into the bathroom and splash water on my face.
“Morning.”
“Jesus!” I yelp, spinning on the spot. My hands immediately clutch the sink behind me as I try to calm my beating heart. “What are you doing?”
“Bathing Dillan.” He says this like I’m stupid. Which I am, because that’s exactly what he’s doing and it’s clear to see. “He woke up four times last night. You didn’t wake up once. You must have been tired.”
