Chapter 35
Fia
The bed was cold when I rolled over. I couldn’t remember the dream I’d faded from into consciousness, but in the land of the living, I expected to roll onto that chest I’d admired and chucked out of the room before it was too late.
Maybe I’d get a forehead kiss and a cuddle.
Maybe if I went into his bedroom, I’d get that, and not the cold duvet.
He’d called it ‘our’ bedroom last night.
My perfume was still on the side. My toothbrush was still leaning against his in the holder.
Daily reminders that I was gone. Proof that I had been here.
Comfort or torture, I wasn’t sure.
I jumped out of bed into the cold February morning, because I was here now and I wasn’t about to waste it.
In the dark, I hadn’t really looked at the room, but now I couldn’t unsee it. The way he’d dragged me to the end of the bed, taking his time on my throat, the way he’d pressed his body against mine. The morning kisses. The sneaking back out.
The love we’d shared in this room.
And, in the mirror, I tried to calm my nerves. I threw my hair up and, knowing full well that it would be freezing downstairs with the dogs going in and out, and the fact that I had at least one other outfit to unpack, I wanted him to admire me just like how I’d drooled over him last night.
So, in nothing but his jumper, I went to make a coffee, Vincent in tow.
Zolt was already down there, his back bare and as muscular as I remembered. I paused on the stairs, watching his body move. The marks from my nails had healed in the months since I’d clung to him.
He was smooth and strong and mine.
His mouth was full as he waved over at me and smiled. “Morning.”
The dogs rushed over, a stampede of pitter-pattering paws and tongues licking at my calves.
“Morning,” I returned. The second the bannister no longer hid me, his chewing slowed as he looked me up and down, eyes lingering just as I’d hoped, then met mine. He breathed in deeply and swivelled back to the food he was preparing.
“Can you keep an eye on this?” he asked and gestured to the sausages in the pan. “I won’t be a second.”
Those words, and the way he ran up the stairs, deflated me.
I’d pushed a boundary. He might not hate me, but I’d still betrayed him, and here I was, parading goods he couldn’t have.
I rolled the sausages over with the spatula, cursing myself.
It wasn’t just me who needed time.
He crept up on me, placing something warm and heavy on my shoulders. I jerked back in surprise, then grinned, wrapping the fluffy dressing gown around me.
It was mine from that first weekend I’d stayed here.
“It’s cold. I know how much you feel it.”
“Thank you,” I said in Kriolu as he took over the cooking again.
He slowed and frowned at me. “What did you say?” he asked in Hungarian.
“I know a few phrases now,” I told him. “I’ve been learning in my spare time. Don’t think I did it for you, though.”
My grin told him it was a lie.
“Fucking hell,” he said in English, then slipped to Kriolu. “And I thought I couldn’t love you anymore.”
I laughed, somewhat awkwardly, looking at the floor.
“I know very little in the grand scheme of things,” I told him, back in Hungarian. He always put me on a pedestal. I didn’t deserve that.
“I can teach you,” he offered, his smile warm and excited.
I wanted that. But we needed to move slowly.
As I stepped back, I nearly tripped over one of the dogs.
Zolt rolled his eyes. “They’re too excited that you’re here. We’ll eat, and then I’ll take them out for a walk.”
If we wandered through the magic of those trees in the crisp, morning air, crunching twigs, smelling the damp earth, I’d end up holding his hand. Then I’d kiss him.
“Do you mind if I stay here? I have some work to finish up.”
He nodded and plated up our sausage sandwiches, guiding me to the sofas. Soft, lyrical music played in the background. English music.
“It’s helped me with my expression,” he said and nodded at the speakers. “Pronunciation.” He took a huge bite, tomato sauce dripping onto his plate. “What did you want to do today?”
There wasn’t one thing I wanted to do.
“It’s not a trick question, Fia,” he laughed, and his hand found my thigh.
“I just want to be with you. We could sit on this sofa all day, and I would be happy. I think I’d prefer that to going out.”
“It is very cold,” he reasoned. He took my plate and placed it on top of his on his lap. But he didn’t move.
“What’s wrong?”
He hesitated, looking at Vincent begging at our feet. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes.” Please.
“Is there hope for us? I can’t— I don’t know if I can do this if—” He swallowed, and his eyes met mine. “If there’s no chance.”
He needed to protect himself.
“I forgive you, Zoltán. I don’t really know what there is to forgive, because you’re innocent. I’m the guilty party here.”
He shook his head, dropped the plates on the coffee table, and took my hands. “No. You were right to go. I don’t blame you.”
“I have hope, Zoltán.”
His breath shook. “Will you stay?”
“Careful, I’ll think you’re asking me to move in.” My laughter lacked amusement, filled with awkwardness, but it softened with sincerity to say, “I’ll stay.”
“You can move in if you want. But… this is a forever commitment. I won’t settle for less.” He squeezed my hands. “I will give this everything I have. The rest of my life. For however long you’ll have me.”
Forever always felt like a vow from his lips.
“Yes,” I agreed, squeezing his fingers back. “Yes, I want that. I want you. I couldn’t walk away from you if I tried. I want it all with you.”
I pulled my legs up to kneel beside him and wrapped my arms around his neck.
“I want everything. To hold your hand. To wake up beside you. To walk the dogs. To show you every day how much I love you.”
His smile, the crease around his eyes tightening, the turn of his mouth, the way his hands fell to my waist… I knew I was safe. I could tell him anything.
Slowly, I leaned in, and we knew it was coming.
He squeezed my sides, but it still surprised me when my lips met his.
Slowly, softly, but surely. He held me and tugged me onto his lap, pulling me close as his mouth moved urgently with mine.
Enveloped in that rich, earthy smell of his, I always got carried away, my tongue melding with his, rocking on his lap as my fingers threaded in his hair, treasuring the fact we were here together.
We were together.
When we stopped to breathe on quiet, relieved laughter, he kissed along my jaw, then neck, when I heard the commotion behind me and turned.
Vincent was chomping on the leftover crust from my sandwich.
“Vincent!”
He kept chewing, mouth open, looking as if he was smiling.
“He’s eating what was left on my plate.”
Zolt brushed my hair back and kept me still as I went to collect our plates. “Just give me one minute. One minute to look at you.”
I sat back, frowning, feeling the blush burn my cheeks, but he brushed my brows, and they relaxed on impact. I followed his hand to drop my cheek into his warm palm, and he stroked me with his thumb.
Our frost had thawed.
We stayed like that until my neck hurt, and I broke away from his lap. “Right,” I sighed, grabbing the plates. “Move the coffee table. You’re going to show me just how good you are. We’re going to play English Scrabble.”
Together, we went through the tiles and replaced the Hungarian letters with the common English ones by tearing up a piece of paper into little squares.
For an hour, we played, and I let him win, just to see the proud smile on his face. We went for a second game, but as I decided to go to war with him this time, teasing him every round, Vincent had decided enough was enough and walked right across our board, dispersing the tiles as he went.
Zolt sprang up. “Right. It’s time for a walk.” And he threw a jumper and coat on and took all the dogs out the back door, pressing a kiss to my cheek before he left.
I washed up our plates and started to clear away our game when the doorbell rang.
My hands froze on the lettered tiles.
It would be her. Zolt hadn’t told me her name, but she clearly knew who I was by the way she blinked at me on his doorstep. And she still decided to touch his arm before she left.
I threw my huge dressing gown on the pantry floor, checked in the hallway mirror that my ass was at least covered by Zolt’s jumper, and brushed back my hair before taking a breath and opening the door with a smile.
Which fell flat the second I saw who had rang the doorbell.
It wasn’t the translator. It was Zolt’s mother. Helena.
Shite.
She was dressed as she always was — long, beautiful dress to her ankles, her hair pinned back, but she looked me up and down with bulging eyes that stalled on the hem of Zolt’s jumper.
I’d screwed the pooch well and truly.
And words were not making it any better because they weren’t working, no matter how hard I tried. Portuguese. She liked to speak in Portuguese, but that wasn’t coming to me.
“Can I come in?” she asked in English, her accent as strong as her clipped tone.
I lunged back, trying to pull the jumper down.
The moment the door closed, her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”
“I—I—”
“You can’t hurt him more than you have. If that’s what you want—”
“No,” I cried. “No. I came here to see him. To… patch things up.”
Her narrowed eyes scanned the room for any signs that I might be lying. And then her shoulders fell, and she crushed me in a hug, her long coat cold against my knees. “You and he are back together?”
“Yes,” I wheezed.
She pulled back, taking my hands. “And did he ask you?”
He’d asked me to stay, to give us another go. To be hopeful.
“Yes.”
She was breathless with excitement. “And what did you say?”
“Yes?” My voice was coming out less sure with every answer.
“Ah! Welcome to the family!” she yelped, pulled me close again and then away, before lifting my hand for her inspection. “Did it not fit?”
My stomach dived as she twisted my hand round, hunting for a ring that wasn’t there.
A ring. On my left hand. A question.