Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
I keep staring at my phone. The message is definitely sent.
And I can’t unsend it. Even tossing my phone from the train can’t undo things.
And it won’t make the feelings go away either.
That despite feeling betrayed by Florian with the Rose, I want to see him more than anything else.
Like seeing him yesterday just brought the feelings back even stronger.
Which doesn’t help anything. But maybe if I see him, there’s a way through this mess.
Florian I’m sorry please come with me to the opera x
Staring at the phone in my hand, I realize I put a kiss on the end of the message, and it’s definitely sent, and it’s too late to take it back.
Shit. I blame the lager. I slump back against my seat by the window.
The train is conveniently stalled out between stations.
The sun shines on me, and I’m warm between the sunbeam and the pints.
Are you sure?
Yes
I would love to go with you to the opera x
Fuck. Now Florian’s put a kiss on the end of his message.
Florian isn’t usually a text-kiss-leaving sort of person.
I mean, it’s happened before. But that was…
before. And he’s left one for sure this time.
I hold up the phone with both hands close to my face.
Yes, it’s definitely a kiss. What would Billy think?
Which is only a few days away. And it means more black tie, and I have precisely zero tuxedos.
This time, though, I’ll take care of things myself.
Dad’s paying me for my shifts at the pub, which helps.
I can totally do this. I can totally see Florian again.
It’ll be absolutely fine. I just won’t think about the Rose. Easy.
I’ll come get you at 3pm. Leave the picnic arrangements to me.
Fuck. I totally forgot about the picnic part of Glyndebourne. Where people are dressed for a ball, but they picnic either by booking a table or ordering a picnic hamper or bringing your own. I wonder which option Florian would go for. Probably the package deal, ordering a table.
See you then
When I get home, I immediately pass out on the sofa for a nap. And when I wake up, still with the beer buzz, but more alert, I wonder what the hell I’ve done as sobriety creeps back in.
In the end, I go down to Brighton to rent a tux after Noah gives me sage advice on the best tuxedo place in town. And so, on opera day, which happens to be a Friday, I’m in black tie, and Mum’s fussing over me just before 3:00 p.m. The girls are still at school, and Dad’s working.
She brushes off imaginary lint from my lapel.
“I promise to take you to the opera another time, Mum,” I say again.
But she’s grinning. Probably, Mum’s happy I’m not moping around when I’m not working in the pub. “I think you and Florian should spend some time together,” is all she says on the subject.
When we hear the gravel crunching as Florian pulls in, Mum beams at me. “Have fun. Tell him he’s welcome to stay over if he likes. The opera gets out late, and it’ll otherwise be quite a drive back to London at that hour.”
“We’ll see.” I kiss her cheek.
She tugs on my bow tie one last time. With a deep breath, I head out. Florian’s unreadable in his sunglasses as I walk over to the passenger side and get in.
“Hey,” I say as nonchalantly as I can manage. The usual riot of emotions pummels me, as it seems to happen whenever Florian’s around me.
“Hey,” he echoes, gazing at me for a long moment. “You look stunning. Ready?”
“Ready.”
He smiles, and my heart jump-starts, and it’s terrible feeling so mixed up, and yet I know what I want. Which is him. And it makes me so upset. I work my jaw, gazing out the window as Mozart plays on our way to see Tosca tonight. Heat rises in my face.
We don’t talk on the short drive from my parents’ house to Glyndebourne. When we park, Florian looks at me. “Alright?”
I bristle, my tone sharp. “I’m well past alright.”
Florian looks taken aback. He takes off his sunglasses. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” I gesture at him. “You have some nerve looking all… I don’t know—gorgeous and sexy, and I’m all mixed up over you, and I don’t know how to sort out my feelings.
You’re buying a place I care deeply about, and it’s important to me and my friends, and you want to knock it down and build some luxury flats—I’ve seen the council notes in the listing.
But every time I see you, all I want is to kiss you and pull you tight and, frankly, do very bad things to you.
And I’m fucking furious about it all.” I scowl deeply at him.
Florian’s wide-eyed. “I see…”
“You’re still buying the Rose? Even after all of this?”
“Yes…”
“Are you aware there’s a community rally coming up to save the Rose?”
He blinks. “A rally?”
“Well, I don’t know if it’s an actual rally. But an event to raise funds to try to buy the Rose. Which is probably like trying to climb Everest in swim trunks. Apparently, my friend Ellie is spearheading the movement with my other friend Caden. You were at his wedding.”
“Of course I remember him, yes.”
Satisfied, I lean back in my seat. “Good.”
Florian’s quiet, giving me side-eye.
“I’m going to go to that rally, Florian, to support my friends. Because otherwise, it feels like betrayal.”
He swallows hard and nods. “I understand.”
“And you know what really fucks me off?”
“Tell me.”
“I hate you. And—I’ve—I’ve fucking fallen in love with you, Florian, and it’s stupid and impossible, and I’m so fucking upset about it all.
I don’t know which way is up. Or down. And all I can think of is you.
Even though it hasn’t been that long since we first met.
But I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime since then.
” I’m trembling in my seat, gripping the door handle.
“Because I want you so badly. Except you insist on breaking my fucking heart. And the worst part is, I don’t know how you feel about me—” I choke out.
Florian reaches over tentatively to touch my arm. “Matty.”
I’m apparently having a meltdown in the car park at the opera.
Great. I’ve obviously lost the plot here.
And I can’t shove all those words back in my mouth and unsay them.
Mortified, I slouch in my seat, resting my head back against the headrest. My face is on fire.
I stare at the roof. He reaches up to stroke my cheek and runs his fingers along my jaw. Gently, he tilts my head to face him.
Tearfully, I look at him. “This is so, so fucked up.”
“Matty. I love you too,” he whispers. “Believe me. So much. And it’s killing me to see you like this—”
“Well, fuck.” And I promptly burst into tears, squeezing my eyes shut.
And Florian’s back to looking alarmed.
“I’m sorry.” My voice is muffled. I press my fingers against my eyes as if that will push the tears back in or Florian won’t notice I’m crying. When his fingers gently massage the back of my neck, I shudder and lower my hands. I open my eyes to look at him.
Florian’s stricken, pale, and his eyes are bright with tears too. “The last thing I want to do is upset you.”
“Well, you have. I wish I could shut my heart off and not care about anything, but it doesn’t work like that. Not for me, anyway. Maybe it does for you. I don’t know.” I shiver again.
His hand slides along my jaw, and his thumb brushes my lower lip. “Please don’t shut your heart off. The way you feel so passionately about what you care about is incredible.”
“It’s a curse,” I say darkly, then bite his thumb lightly. Then I draw it into my mouth and suck. I feel Florian’s shiver run up his arm, and then he’s wiping tears from my cheek. “Fuck you.”
Florian’s quiet, watching me. Deadly serious.
Then I shift. “Come here,” I whisper.
He looks at me uncertainly, then shifts slightly closer in his bucket seat, reaching down to take my hand. “Matty…”
I lean over to kiss him with increasing intensity.
Kissing with the salty taste of my tears on our lips.
Our kisses are urgent. I reach for his face, pulling him tight.
My tongue explores his with ferocity, like an interrogation.
And Florian yields to me, his kisses just as passionate.
My heart’s pounding so loud everyone in Glyndebourne must hear it.
And I wish it were just me and Florian somewhere private, and I would ravage him ’til he’s as messily undone as I am.
When we straighten, there are tears in his eyes. “Matty, please. Tell me what I can do.”
I lift my eyebrows at him. “You know perfectly well what.”
Florian sighs and rubs his own eyes. He draws out his handkerchief and carefully wipes the tears from my eyes while my gaze is riveted to him. He looks ill.
“Let’s… let’s pretend for tonight, okay?” I say softly. “Make-believe. That we can be with each other however we want to be.”
“Will that make things better or worse?” Florian asks carefully. “I don’t want to make things worse.”
“Better for now.”
Florian at last nods. “Okay, petal.”
I kiss him lingeringly, more gently this time, and I feel him shudder. And when we straighten again, we gaze at each other like we’re in our daydream and not in a car park surrounded by cars and well-dressed people.
“I want you to have a special night.” His voice is barely audible. “Because you’ve never been here before. And I want you to know how much it means to me to have you here with me.”
I swallow hard, nodding. Shivers run up my spine.
Right now, there’s no place I’d rather be than here in Glyndebourne with Florian.
Even if I’m acting like I’ve lost my mind.
I probably have. Probably when I was back in London.
Noah’s probably right that I need to get checked out for Florian-induced madness.
And I don’t know if there’s a cure to be found.
“Ready?” Florian asks in a whisper.
“Yes.”
Florian gets out of the car. I take a moment to compose myself, draw in a steadying breath to gather myself.
When he opens my door and reaches for my hand to help me out, I’m surprised, but I take his and slip outside.
We stand eye-to-eye, which is when I catch his face and kiss him so thoroughly he’s left flustered and reeling.
And then he’s taking a moment as I turn away, looking at the shine of cars under the brightness of the high afternoon sun, letting the warmth soak into me.
Florian’s soon rummaging in the back. “Okay to help carry a couple of things?”
“Yes.”
He passes me a pair of folded camp chairs in their black carry bags and another mystery bag, which I sling over my shoulder, followed by a rolled-up navy tartan picnic blanket with a chestnut-brown leather carry strap.
Then he takes two generously sized wicker hampers out and closes the boot.
He locks the car and slides his keys into his pocket.
“Let’s get set up, then. We’ll come out for the interval for dinner. We have ninety minutes to dine. Alright?”
“Yes.” I give him a shaky smile.
Then, Florian slips his hand into mine, and I squeeze his fingers. Hand in hand, we approach the opera house. I can’t stop shivering, despite the heat of the late-August sun, being here together with Florian as though we’re in a dream.