‘Is everything okay?’
I turn and see Dan approaching with my bag over his shoulder. I give a small smile. ‘Fine.’
‘I settled the bill. Here.’ He hands me my bag.
‘Thanks.’
‘Are you all right?’ He frowns.
No, I‘m bloody not. The stretched truth is stretching my patience. ‘Yeah, fine.’ I plaster on a cheery face. ‘So, what do you want to do?’
‘Tussauds?’ he asks with a big smile.
I return his smile. ‘Absolutely, let’s go.’
He holds his arm up for me to link and off we go. I’ve lost count of the amount of times we’ve roamed the halls of Madam Tussaud’s. It’s tradition. There is not one waxwork that we haven’t got a photo with. We’ve snuck around the place, entered restricted zones and done whatever it took to get the photographs we needed to keep our scrapbook up-to-date. Childish, but it’s our thing.
We have an amazing day. I’ve laughed so much my cheeks ache. As it turns out, the only new waxworks’ in Tussaud’s are royalty. I had a photo with William and Kate, and Dan was captured squeezing The Queen’s boobs. We had dinner at our favourite Chinese in China Town and a few cheeky wines in a bar. I felt slightly guilty when I took my first sip, but I could hardly ask for water – Dan would have asked why. Besides, once I got the first glass down, the second was easier.
I hug Dan tight as we say our goodbyes at the tube. ‘When are you going back?’ I ask.
‘Not for a few weeks. I’m going up to Manchester tomorrow to catch up with some university friends, but I’m back in London next Sunday so I’ll see you again before I leave, okay?’
I release him from my squeeze. ‘Okay. Call me as soon as you’re back in London.’
‘I will, take care, yeah?’ He kisses me on the cheek. ‘I’m on my mobile if you need me.’
‘Okay.’ I smile. He’s worried.
He strides off and leaves me wishing he could stay forever. I’ve never needed him so much.
As I enter the foyer of Lusso, Clive is on the telephone. I walk straight past his desk on my way to the lift. I really don’t feel like chatting.
‘Thank you, goodbye. Ava!’ he shouts after me, and I stop and roll my eyes before turning to face him.
‘Yes?’
He shoves the phone into its cradle and hurries towards me. ‘A lady stopped by. I tried calling up to Mr Ward, but he didn’t answer. I’m afraid I couldn’t let her up. Mature woman.’
‘A lady?’ I ask. He’s got my attention now.
‘Yes, nice woman with blonde wavy hair. She said it was urgent, but of course, you know the rules.’ He raises his eyebrows.
Oh yes, I know the rules and for once I’m relieved he has stuck to the rules. Blonde, wavy hair? Not Sarah, surely. ‘How mature?’
He shrugs. ‘Mid-forties.’
Okay. I don’t like Sarah but she definitely doesn’t look like she’s in her forties. ‘What time was this, Clive?’
He looks at his watch. ‘Only half an hour ago.’
‘Did she give her name?’
He frowns. ‘No, she didn’t. I met her at the gate. She was expecting to go straight up to the penthouse, but when I wouldn’t let her through and said I would have to call Mr Ward, she started getting a bit vague with me.’
‘No worries, Clive. Thanks.’ I pivot and carry on towards the elevators.
I board the lift and punch in the code. A lady? And a vague lady who thought she could march up to the penthouse unannounced?
The elevators doors open and I step out to find Jesse’s front door open. Does this man have no regard for home security? Granted, he has a twenty four hour concierge downstairs to monitor the comings and goings, and a team of security, but a bit of common sense wouldn’t go a miss. I shut the door behind me and instantly feel on my guard. The sound system is playing. It’s not as ear piercing as last time, but it’s the track playing that has me on edge. It’s the same one I walked in to last Sunday when I found Jesse drunk.
Angel.
I run through the penthouse, leaving the music on. Finding Jesse is more important than turning off the tormenting song which reminds me of that awful day. I head straight for the terrace, but he’s not there. I dump my bag and take the stairs two at a time and bolt into the bedroom. Nothing. Where is he?
Panic starts to flood me, but then I hear the shower running. I fly into the bathroom and come to an abrupt stop when I see Jesse sat on the floor of the shower, naked except for a pair of running shorts that are soaking wet and clinging to his thighs. His back is against the cold tiled wall, his knees pulled up and his arms resting on top of them. His head in slumped as the water crashes down around him.
As if he senses I’m here, he lifts his head and meets my gaze. He smiles mildly, but he can’t hide the torture in his eyes. How long has he been like this? I exhale a long breath of relief, mixed with a little exasperation, before walking straight into the shower fully clothed and settling myself in his lap, wrapping my arms and legs around his soaking body.
He buries his head in my neck. ‘I love you.’
‘I know you do. How many laps did you do?’ He has done this before. He runs circles around the Royal Parks to distract himself…from me.
‘Three.’
‘That’s too much.’ I scold him. We’re talking twenty miles here. It’s not a quick jog around the park to alleviate some stress. His body is not strong enough for this at the moment.
‘I freaked out when you weren’t here.’
‘I kind of got that.’ I say with only a light dash of sarcasm. He shifts his hands to my hips and tweaks my hipbone. I jerk.
‘You should have told me.’ he says sternly.
Perhaps I should have, but he probably would’ve trampled it, and he can’t be running a marathon every time we’re apart. ‘I was always coming back,’ I assure him. ‘I can’t be joined at your hip.’
He exhales on a long breath and snuggles deeper into the crook of my neck. ‘I wish you bloody could be.’ he grumbles. ‘You’ve had a drink.’
I suddenly feel awkward, uneasy. ‘Have you eaten?’ I ask, not knowing what else to say. He’s probably burnt off a million calories running like Forrest Gump.
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘You need to eat, Jesse.’ I moan. ‘I’ll make you something.’
He tightens his grip on me. ‘Soon, I’m comfy.’
So, I let him be comfy for a while. I sit on his lap, my dress clinging to my body, my hair sopping wet, and just let him hold me. It can’t be like this every time we’re apart, I’ll never settle. We most certainly haven’t turned a corner, and I’m sorely disappointed. What happens now?
‘I hate this song.’ I say quietly, after we’ve sat in a tight clinch for an age.
‘I love it. Reminds me of you.’
‘It reminds me of a man I don’t like.’ I never want to hear it again.
‘I’m sorry.’ He nips at my neck, drawing his tongue up the length to my jawbone. ‘My arse is dead.’ he mumbles.
It’s the longest shower I’ve ever had. ‘I’m comfy.’ I mock. He moves his hand and grasps my hipbone, causing me to flinch and yelp. ‘Stop!’ I cry. ‘I need to feed you!’
‘Yes, you do. And I want my Ava, stripped naked and laying on our bed so I can binge on her.’ He stands himself up with me wrapped around his body, and with little effort, considering his injured hand and depleted body.
My Ava? That’s fine. Our bed? I will file that away for now.
‘I’m all for that, but I need to feed my man.’ I’ve already caused him to run himself into the ground with no fuel in his body. I’m not going to be the cause of him starving to death as well. ‘Food now, loving later.’
‘Loving now, food later.’ he challenges as he walks us out of the shower and positions me on the vanity unit.
‘I’m feeding you. End of.’ I inform him sternly. I mean it. ‘Where’s your bandage?’ I ask.
‘End of, ah?’ He picks a bath sheet up from the pile on the shelf and starts rubbing the wetness from my hair with his good hand. It could do with a shampoo and condition. ‘It was getting in my way.’ He brushes off my worry.
I start to shiver, my clinging dress rubbing on the goose bumps that are engulfing me. Jesse drapes the towel around my back and uses the corners to pull me into him, kissing me hard on the lips. I catch him wince.
‘Yes, end of. My man is rubbing off on me.’
‘Your man wants to rub onto you.’ he whispers, pushing his groin into my thigh and taking my mouth gently.
‘Please, let me feed you.’
He pulls back on a little pout. ‘Okay, food now, loving later.’
Another submission? This certainly is progress. Nothing usually gets in the way of him taking me wherever and however he pleases. ‘How’s your hand?’ I ask.
He flicks his eyes to his fist that’s clenching the corner of the towel. ‘Not bad. I was a good boy and put some ice on it.’
‘You brave boy!’
He smirks and nuzzles our noses, then kisses my forehead. ‘Come on, you need some dry clothes.’ He goes to lift me off the unit, but I brush him away. ‘Hey.’ He scowls at me.