A Christmas Wedding(17)

‘Nah, I’m shattered.’

‘Bed?’ I step back and take his hands in mine.

His blue eyes smile down at me, and then he lets go of my hands and hooks his fingers through the belt loops of my jeans, tugging me forward so we’re hip to hip. Bending down, he plants his lips on mine.

It is the sweetest kiss we’ve had in ages, but all too soon it grows into something more. His fingers find the hem of my T-shirt and our mouths are forced apart as the fabric comes up and over my head.

‘Bed?’ I repeat, breathlessly.

He shakes his head. ‘Here.’

It’s been so long since we’ve had sex outside the bedroom – the idea feels strangely illicit. We both get very busy unbuttoning each other’s jeans and stripping down to our underwear. He pulls me against him again and now only the flimsy fabric of our underwear separates me from what is a pretty impressive show of how turned on he is.

Our lips lock together with increasing urgency as he lifts me onto the table and unclasps my bra. I wrap my legs around him, gasping at the intense sensation. A moment later, he steps away to wriggle out of his boxers, reaches between us to pull my lacy knickers to one side, and surges forward.

I grip his muscled back and hold on for dear life.

It is the best sex we’ve had in I can’t remember how long.

‘Lachie?’ I say the next morning as he sleepily traces circles on my arm in bed.

‘Mmm?’

‘I need to talk to you about Fliss.’

He sighs. Loudly. ‘You’ve got nothing to worry about.’

‘I can’t stand her,’ I state. ‘I don’t like the way you are with her. I hate the way she is with you. I don’t want her hanging around the flat when I’m not here.’ I say these three sentences without pausing, but, by the time I’ve finished, he’s already taken his arm out from behind my shoulders and is sliding out of bed.

‘You’re being unreasonable,’ he says, pulling on Friday night’s jeans. Yesterday’s are still out in the living room.

‘I’m not. I’m trusting my instincts and I don’t trust her.’

‘What about me?’ he asks emphatically. ‘Do you trust me?’ He irately tugs open a drawer and swipes a fresh T-shirt, pulling it over his head.

I don’t answer.

‘What. You don’t?’ he demands to know.

‘No, I do,’ I say reasonably. ‘But I don’t see why you have to be friends with someone who makes me so uncomfortable. I wouldn’t do that to you.’

He rolls his eyes, unhappy about being backed into a corner.

It’s true, though. I still feel unsettled by that whole episode with Alex. It might’ve helped me to see him again while he was here, but I didn’t out of respect for Lachie.

‘I saw the way you sang that Catfish and the Bottlemen song to her,’ I state.

‘What?’ He recoils.

‘You looked at her when you sang that bit in “Cocoon” about her outdrinking you and her friends all hating it.’

I’m startled to see that he looks guilty. ‘What was that about?’

‘It’s nothing,’ he says.

‘It’s not nothing,’ I bat back.

He can see I’m not giving in, but he looks sickeningly shifty as he speaks.

‘What I mean to say is you have nothing to worry about,’ he insists, his voice sounding forcibly calmer as he edgily meets my eyes. I wait for an explanation and eventually one comes.

‘Last week, when you were out with work, I went for a beer with El and we bumped into Fliss and some of her friends. She invited us to join them, but I got the feeling that a couple of her mates wanted a girls’ night, so, when Fliss ordered a bunch of shots for us to do, they refused to join in. It all got a bit silly.’

I feel ill. ‘What do you mean, “silly”?’

‘We just got a bit drunk and her friends ended up leaving and Fliss felt really bad about it the next day.’

‘She can’t have felt too bad, seeing the smirking look on both of your faces when you were singing about it.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ he snaps, but he knows I’ve caught him out.

‘Bloody hell, Lachie,’ I mutter. ‘That girl is into you. Are you really completely blind or do you just not want to see it because you fancy her, too?’

‘I do not!’ He raises his voice.

‘Bullshit!’ I raise mine in return. ‘I don’t want you hanging out with her!’

‘I have to hang out with her. I work with her!’ he yells.

‘Then get some fucking jobs off your own back instead of relying on her so much!’

He looks absolutely furious for a moment and then shakes his head rapidly. He’s completely pissed off, but to my relief he doesn’t storm out of the room.

A lump forms in my throat. ‘Lucy’s pregnant again,’ I tell him.

He glances at me. ‘Is she?’

My eyes well up and his expression softens.

‘B,’ he says quietly, sitting down on the bed and reaching for my hand.

‘I want a baby, too,’ I say past the lump in my throat. I’ve hardly acknowledged to myself how broody I am, but I can no longer deny it.

His hand goes limp in mine and he looks away. ‘I’m not ready.’