Love Your Life(21)

All afternoon I’ve been thinking with anticipation, Tonight…tonight…maybe tonight…And now here we are. The two of us. With an empty night in Italy ahead of us.

As I meet his eyes again, my chest feels constricted with lust. It’s almost painful, this desire of mine. Because we’re not done. We are so not done. I can still feel his mouth, his hands, his hair entwined in my fingers. My skin is longing for his. My everything is longing for his.

    “No point joining the others,” says Dutch, as though reading my mind, and his fingers brush against mine.

“No.”

“My room’s at the end of the corridor,” he adds conversationally. “Kind of secluded.”

“Sounds great,” I say, trying to contain the tremor in my voice. “Can I…see it?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Without any further words, we turn and walk along the corridor, our footsteps matching, our fingertips touching. My breaths are short. I’m nearly dying of need here. But somehow I manage to put one foot in front of the other like a normal person.

We get to a wooden studded door and Dutch produces an iron key. He gives me a long look which makes my stomach swoop, then reaches to unlock the door.

“Your personal question,” I say, remembering suddenly. “You still haven’t asked it.”

A trace of amusement appears on Dutch’s face. He surveys me for a moment before leaning forward to kiss me, long and hard, his hands gripping my hips. Then he bends in still farther, gently bites my neck, and whispers, “We’ll get to that.”





Five




Oh my God.

I can’t move. I can’t think. I’ve had barely any sleep. My skin prickles every time I think back over the night we’ve just had.

There’s a rustle of sheets and Dutch turns over, blinking as a ray of light catches his eyes. For a moment we look at each other. Then slowly his face creases into a smile and he murmurs, “Good morning.” He draws me in for a long, lingering kiss, then gets out of bed and pads to the bathroom.

As I flop back on my pillow, my head feels like a marshmallow. All sweetness. All bliss. Dreamy and soft. When Dutch reappears, freshly showered, I say impulsively, “I missed you!” and it’s true. I don’t want to be apart from him for a second. It’s not chemistry we have, it’s magnetism. It’s a pull. It’s a scientific force. It’s inescapable.

But does he feel like that too? Where are we with this? Where do we go from here? I sit up and wait till Dutch looks round from putting on his shirt.

    “What now?” I say momentously—then remember that this is what Clara asks Chester as he gets on the hay wagon. For a ridiculous moment I imagine Dutch saying, “When next you see me, Aria, you will know that I am a man of my word!”

But instead he blinks and says, “Breakfast, I guess.”

“Right.” I nod.

I mean, that’s the obvious answer.

As we walk along, brushing shoulders, the morning sunshine dances on our heads and I feel lighter than I have for months. Years. We approach the courtyard and I suddenly realize we’ve been absent since yesterday lunch. It might seem conspicuous; people might ask questions….

But as we join the group around the big wooden table, no one bats an eyelid. It turns out quite a lot of people ducked out of yoga yesterday afternoon—and a few went out to supper at a local restaurant. (Verdict: not as good as the food here, don’t bother.) So no one asks or guesses or hints at anything. And I’m glad. I don’t want any scrutiny. I want to be able to gaze at Dutch over my orange juice, undisturbed, thinking delicious, private thoughts.

Except I need to share this with the squad. (That still counts as private.) After breakfast I get my phone from reception, citing a family emergency, and head out to the corner of the street, where I’ve heard there’s a patch of good 4G. And after standing there for five seconds, my phone starts to come alive. It’s kind of magical, as though the world is talking to me again.

    All my WhatsApp groups flood with notifications, and I feel a pang of longing. I can’t believe I’ve gone this long without chatting to anyone. But somehow I force myself to ignore the 657 messages beckoning me. I’ve promised I won’t look, because once I look, I’ll get sucked in. Instead, I turn to a new group, entitled Ava’s Emergency Hotline, which Nell set up for exactly this eventuality.

Hi, I type, and after only ten seconds, Nell starts typing a response. It’s almost as though she’s been waiting for me to make contact. A moment later it arrives:

He’s fine.



Then a photo of Harold pops onto my screen with a caption: See? He’s happy. Stop stressing. Go and write!!

A moment later Maud chimes in:

Ava! How’s the book?



Now Sarika is typing too:

How come you have your phone? Isn’t this against the rules?



They’re all online, I realize. This is perfect timing. Joyfully, I type:

Never mind the rules. Because, guess what, I’ve found a guy. I’ve found the perfect guy!!!



I send it off and watch the responses arrive, my mouth curving into a smile.

What??!?!?!

Wow.