'You called. You said you missed me and wished I was here, so here I am. That's what normal boyfriends would do, isn't it?' he smiled, lifting his hand to tuck my hair behind my ear as I nodded, beyond happy to have him lying there. We were both new at this relationship thing, this being the longest for both of us, but we just gelled. We were passionate about our work, loved dogs, had the same sense of humour, music and film taste. We were content just being together or with friends, nothing flash or extravagant. 'Besides, I missed you too.'
'This is getting so hard,' I whispered, tracing the scar on his chin from our eventful trek home at Christmas, then following the line of his sexy lips with my fingers, still in awe that he was mine. He nipped one of my fingers gently, then kissed it.
'I know, I feel it too. So before I ravish you the way I've been dreaming of since I last saw you, how's our boy?'
'I won't know until this afternoon. They'll call me when they're done after lunch,' I replied. 'And speaking of, I'm so sorry, but it's the Joneses' day to come over for Sunday dinner and they were so looking forward to it. I had no idea you'd be here.'
'Would I rather have you to myself, to spend the day in bed with you?' he whispered against my lips, my body heating up in an instant. 'Sure, but I know how fond you are of them. When I come here, I fit into your life, and vice versa. That was the deal, right?'
'Right,' I sighed, as he started kissing my neck and made me forget my worries about my fur baby for a welcome moment.
'So, let me work some of this tension out of … us both, then we can cook together while we wait for the news.'
'I'm very tense,' I warned him with a giggle.
'Hmmm, me too,' he chuckled. 'This could take some time,' he added, as his lips found mine and he pressed me back into the mattress. God, Miller Davis was all man, and waiting for him for weeks, insisting we get to know each other first, had only made our first time all the more explosive. And so far each time since had been as well, so I had no doubt this time would be either. I switched off my mind for a while and let myself be in the moment with him. After all, they were so fleeting.
'Get off, you randy old fool,' Daphne scolded, slapping her husband's hand away as he tried to cop a feel of her arse when she came back from the cloakroom. He chuckled, then picked up her hand when she sat down and kissed it, making her bat her eyelashes as her face softened. Miller and I exchanged a smile as we watched them while we made some tea and coffee. It was so lovely to see a couple, who'd been together for the best part of sixty years, still so in love. I wished I had more free time to spend with them. They were almost surrogate parents, offering well-meaning advice, often without prompting. But with me having a job and an overseas boyfriend, life was so hectic. I saw Daphne more regularly, as she'd join Georgie and I on some of our girls' nights in, but every other week I did a Sunday roast and invited them both over. Georgie did the same on the alternate weeks, and we took it in turn to check on them and help with the ironing or shopping.
'So, what was wrong with Heath?' David asked, still holding his wife's hand as I set them both a cup of tea on the kitchen table.
'Nothing, he's an amazing gardener and handyman. He's really tidied up the place,' I replied.
'I meant to court. You had a perfectly nice, single young man, a local too, and you had to go and pick a foreigner.' I saw Daphne roll her eyes, knowing he was about to go off on a rant, as I stood there open-mouthed. Miller leaned back against the kitchen island and folded one arm across his chest, a bemused look on his face as he took a swig of his coffee. David had always been to the point, but honestly, in front of Miller? 'And after he sorted out your bush so well. Youngsters today, isn't it,' he added with a tut.
'He did what?' Miller spluttered, setting down his cup of coffee.
'My holly bush, not my actual … David, honestly, can we just put the whole bush nightmare to bed?' I begged.
'What did I say?' he objected. 'He sorted it out good and proper. At least it's not attacking Fred every time he tries to stick something in your box anymore, isn't it.'
'Who the hell is Fred?' Miller demanded, getting more annoyed by the second.
'The postman, and he means my letterbox. My God, it just turns into double entendre city around him, without him even knowing,' I groaned.
'Well, I think he's a lovely guy. Didn't I say that to you, Daphne, didn't I say our Heath would be perfect for Abbie?'
'You did, dear, and I know as he's your nephew, you were extra keen to match them, but the heart wants what the heart wants, you can't force these things. You tried to set them up, it didn't work, and now she's happy with Miller. Let it go.'
'Just saying. Perfectly good man on her doorstep, don't know why she had to pick some Yank,' he muttered.
'Now, now, dear, no need to get racist. Nothing wrong with the Americans, and Miller's a very nice young man. Very easy on the eye, too,' she mouthed at me, making me giggle.
'As a matter of fact, I actually asked Heath out on a date and he turned me down, saying he wasn't over his ex. But – '
'So I was a second choice, was I?' Miller interrupted, flashing me an unimpressed scowl. Wow, jealousy was a seriously hot look on him.
'If you'd let me finish, I was about to say that I made a mistake. I realised I was only asking him out as I was annoyed at myself for not ringing you back the first time we met. For those months that followed, it was you that I was thinking about, not Heath,' I said firmly.
'So what was wrong with Heath?' pressed David, obviously not willing to let this go. 'He's a looker, keeps himself in shape, and has a lovely sense of humour. And he's really good with his hands. I told you how he sorted my plums out for me.'
'I can't believe what I'm hearing here,' Miller mumbled as he swallowed another mouthful of coffee. 'Are Brits normally so … open about their sexual practices?'
'He means his plum tree, not his … can we just move on from the whole bush, plum, Heath thing? Please?' I pleaded. 'I'm with Miller and I'm very happy to have Heath as my gardener.'
'Dear, it's time to let it go,' Daphne warned, shooting him a look when he opened his mouth to say something else that said she wasn't going to take any more nonsense from him. It was obvious who wore the trousers in that relationship.
'Just saying he's a nice boy, that's all,' David grumbled.
'Man,' corrected Daphne. 'And just because he's your nephew, he doesn't need you setting him up on dates. He needs some time to get over Rhiannon. Anyway, it's time we were getting back. You need your afternoon sleep and I'm sure Abbie and Miller don't want us oldies cramping their style all day.'
'You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like,' I offered. I felt bad for upsetting our routine, even though I wanted to spend some time alone with Miller.
'And that's why you're such a sweet girl, Abbie Carter,' she beamed, gripping the oak table as she stood up. Miller strode around to take her arm when she wobbled on her feet. 'But he's come all the way to see you, not us. You'll ring us as soon as you get any news on Mr. Sumo, won't you?'
'Yes, of course.' My heart ached at the reminder.
'I'll walk them home,' Miller offered. 'Why don't you call the vet and see if there's any update?'
We curled up on the sofa in front of the crackling fire, Miller spooning me as I reached down to pull another tissue from the box to wipe my tear-puffed eyes and honk my nose loudly. Sexy Abbie, or at least my best attempts to be her, had totally left the building. This was red-eyed, blotchy-faced, snotty-nosed, sobbing Abbie. Mr. Sumo had bowel cancer. I took in a juddery, chest-shaking gasp as I recalled the telephone conversation. It was in the early stages, but it was still cancer and there was a risk of it spreading, so they were keeping him in overnight to administer chemotherapy in the morning. Miller had driven us down in my car so that we could give Sumo some fuss and attention. Of course, I was virtually ignored, as Sumo was so excited to see his favourite man. And it had broken my heart all over again to have to drive away and leave him there.
'Sssshhhh,' soothed Miller, kissing the top of my head softly. 'You'll make yourself sick.'
'I can't help it,' I whimpered. 'I should have taken him sooner. I should have known, but in fairness, he's always been flatulent and pooey. It wasn't like there was that much of a change.'
'You couldn't know, Abbie. You heard the vet. You got him there sooner than most, thanks to Georgie suggesting he get checked over. You've done everything you can. And the chemo may work.'
'He's going to look awful. I mean, he's ugly as it is, his gold and white coat is all he has going for him. How's he going to look with no hair?' I howled, giving my nose another unladylike honk. 'He'll be pink and wrinkly, like a really, really old penis!'
'He won't lose it all,' Miller chuckled. 'It will just thin a bit. And it's not like he's strutting around the village on a daily basis sniffing out a girlfriend and needs to look his best.'
'I guess. But what about the poo if he has an upset tummy? It's not like he has the best control as it is. Do they do doggie nappies? Will he have to waddle around in one and I'll have to lift him up to sniff his butt to see if he's filled it? I'll end up needing surgery to my nose, his normal poos are toxic enough. And what about his walks to the village shop? He's a laughing stock on his skateboard as it is. I don't want people making fun of him when he's wearing a nappy too.'