Chapter 73
Sunny
We filed the story just after eight o’clock.
“Your first-ever Sentinel front page. Wonderful,” Ludo said, pulling me into a hug. I kissed him.
“How come you don’t faint when I hug you?” I said.
Then we sat around the retreat’s kitchen table with Leaf, Karma, Summer, and Torsten.
Leaf had cooked a scrumptious vegan dinner.
I was exhausted. I think we all were. But everyone was also smiling and happy, like we’d all had a weight lifted from our shoulders.
Before we could tuck in, Karma stood, raised a glass of organic red wine, and tapped it with the back of her knife.
The table hushed. She faltered, voice croaky. She tapped her chest.
“Sorry, I’m a bit emotional.” Karma’s eyes welled with tears.
Leaf reached across and held her hand. “I just wanted to thank you all for the beautiful energy you’ve brought into our lives.
Leaf and I have had so much fun, and feel so blessed for everything that has happened these past couple of months.
I’m so grateful to the universe for bringing us all together.
I just wanted to thank you for coming into our lives and sharing this part of our journey. ”
Karma was crying, Leaf was crying, Summer was sobbing. Torsten was a blubbering wreck. No one said healing was pretty.
“And to think, as a result of all the fun we’ve had, we might yet get rid of both that stupid nuclear power plant and a barrowload of corrupt politicians.”
Leaf raised his wine glass above his head.
“To changing the world for the better,” he said.
“To having clever friends who help you change the world for the better,” I said, nodding at Karma and Ludo.
“To fearless journalism and the relentless pursuit of truth,” Ludo said, winking at me.
“To the great guiding energy of the universe for bringing us all together,” Summer said. She kissed Torsten on the forehead—the only bit of his face not wet with tears.
“To soulmates,” Karma said. And, finally, we drank.
* * *
Later that night, in the chalet, it was finally just Ludo and me. Freshly showered, exhausted from a crazy day, we climbed into bed, Ludo wearing nothing but a pair of my pants.
“I can’t believe you planned this big romantic gesture and you didn’t think to pack.”
“Surely that makes it even more romantic?”
“I never realised I was so attracted to other boys wearing my pants. Maybe that’s my kink now?
The jury is out.” I shuffled a little closer and rested a hand on Ludo’s hip, sending a (metaphorical) charge of electricity through my body.
Ludo smiled. We hadn’t really had a chance to talk properly yet, and there were things that needed to be said.
“I’m so sorry about Uncle Ben. I know how much he meant to you. I should have been there for you. That was unforgivable. I’ll always regret that.”
Tears welled in Ludo’s eyes. “Thank you for saying that. But it’s fine. Really.”
“It’s not.”
“It wasn’t at the time. But it’s fine now. I know you were angry, and I understand why.” Ludo sat up on one elbow. “What I don’t understand is why you would think I would do that to you? Publish early and ruin everything.”
I squirmed, embarrassed.
“Because we’re journalists. Because journalists can’t be trusted. You were still the competition. I thought you been using me to get the exclusive.”
“Why would I do that?”
I shrugged. “Kudos? Reputation? To get ahead?”
“Is this the same guy who told me at Maxime’s I got my job because of who my father is?” I looked into Ludo’s sapphire eyes, holding his gaze.
“I know. I’ve been an idiot. I’m sorry.”
“I think if we trusted each other more, we could have saved ourselves a lot of pain,” he said.
I lifted my hand to Ludo’s face, tucking an unruly curl behind his ear.
“You mean if I trusted you more,” I said.
“I didn’t exactly trust that your motives for being nice to me were pure. I was waiting for you to fail. I’m sorry for doing that.”
I forgave him and girded myself for a confession of my own.
“So… I originally apologised to you for our fight at Maxime’s because I was terrified you’d trash-talk me to every editor in the country.”
Ludo squawked like a parrot, ripped the pillow out from under me, and hit me with it.
“I knew you didn’t mean that apology!”
“I’m sorry!”
He was laughing, thank God, and I laughed too.
“In the end, we made a pretty good team,” he said.
“We did.” I looked up into Ludo’s eyes and lifted myself onto an elbow so I could kiss his soft, sweet lips.
Ludo’s phone pinged. How on earth did he have reception this far from the house? I’d be taking this up with Vodafone. To my astonishment, he checked the message.
“Father wants to know if you’re free for dinner at the house tomorrow evening.”
“Me?”
“Unless he meant to invite Stormzy and autocorrect changed it. I expect he’s going to offer you a job. There’s a vacancy on the politics team.”
“At the Sentinel?” My pulse quickened.
“No, at Arabella McPhee’s Café. Yes, at the Sentinel.” Ludo replaced his phone, took off his glasses, and plonked them down on the bedside table. “And when he offers it, you should take it. You’d be brilliant. And it’s what you’ve always wanted.”
He rested his head against the headboard, his stunning blue eyes shining like sapphires from behind his uncontrolled curls. He was beautiful—and I’d only just got him back.
“I know how you feel about that,” I said. “I’m not going to lose you again. The price is too high. Besides, I don’t want the job if I’m only being offered it because we’re together.”
Ludo put his forehead against mine and looked deep into my eyes.
“My father doesn’t give someone a job unless they deserve it. I told you that at Maxime’s.” His eyes sparkled.
“You wouldn’t mind working together?” I said.
“Sunny, it’s my job. I’m leaving.”
Ludo’s expression was absolutely sincere. I sat upright in disbelief.
“Why would you leave? You’re brilliant.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to think lately. Politics isn’t for me. I want to write about something I actually care about.”
The penny dropped.
“You’re filling your uncle Ben’s old seat? Ludo, that’s perfect. I’m so happy for you.”
“Noooo, I’m certainly not ready to fill Uncle Ben’s shoes.
No, Wilhelmina Post is going to be the Sentinel’s new theatre critic.
She’ll be magnificent. I’m joining Stage as a junior reporter.
It’s well-read and respected, but it’s also somewhere I can learn my craft. Earn my stripes. Work my way up.”
I kissed him, then. Firmly. Passionately.
“I’m so proud of you.” I slid down into the bed and pulled Ludo closer to me, our bodies pressed together under the covers.
“Is that what you call it?” Ludo said, squeezing me through my underpants.
“In that case, I look forward to making you jolly proud indeed.” Then he kissed me.
He kissed my lips, and my jaw, and my neck.
He followed the line of my freckles across my shoulders, then pushed me onto my back and kissed his way across my chest to my hardening nipples.
He kissed his way down the midline of my stomach, to the place where the freckles disappeared beneath the hair.
His mass of black curls vanished beneath the bedclothes, and Ludo kept on kissing.