8. Iris
Iris
D ear Iris,
I thought, for old time’s sake, we could start writing to each other again, even though we’re currently living together. Sounds strange maybe, but I’m much better with written words rather than spoken ones.
I like you living in my house. Although, it doesn’t feel just like my house anymore. In almost every room I can catch the scent of the perfume you wear – I think I can pretty much figure out now how long it’s been since you’ve been in a particular room. Half of my clothes now smell of you, and pretty much all of my hoodies – I’d really like one or two back as I’m running short.
The only room that doesn’t smell of you is my bedroom and I can’t help but think that’s a mistake. It’s also the only room that doesn’t have your things in it, which means it now reminds me of a show home. Not that I’m complaining about your things – except maybe the number of cushions. Do cushions breed? I’m thinking there should be a scientific study done into this, although I suspect that most women already know the answer to that question.
Can I interest you in dinner tonight? 6.30? Do let me know.
Yours,
Gulliver.
I re-read it twice more, charmed and thrilled as well as overwhelmingly curious. We ate dinner together every night, which was arguably a bit intense, both of us going from living alone to living with someone else in a matter of a couple of months.
I looked over at him, his back to me as he typed away at his laptop, which was on a makeshift desk looking out of the living room windows over the garden and down to the sea.
The gorgeous weather from yesterday had been replaced with rain, which was disappointing but not unexpected. I’d been for a short walk along the coastal path to the lifeboat station, leaving Gully at home to carry on writing. It seemed he’d hit a sweet point as he’d been up for a large portion of the night, which I knew because I’d been like a stalker and watched him for a good ten minutes without him realising I was there.
I woke up at two am like clockwork every morning for some bizarre and unknown reason, and I’d gone to get myself a drink from the kitchen. Gully’s bedroom door had been open, a lamp still on, so I’d peered in, seeing him working away.
I hadn’t interrupted, knowing what it was like when you were in the flow of something. He’d been already up in the morning, coming into my bedroom at vomit o’clock, like he did every day to make sure I was okay.
It was a matter of course now, for him to hold my hair back and crouch behind me, his body keeping me warm. After I’d finished, which was happening sooner, thankfully, he’d pull me close into him for an enormous hug, which took longer than the sick bit, wrapping himself around me on the bathroom floor, me ending up sat on his lap, engulfed in his arms.
It was at that moment every day when I knew I was feeling a lot more for him than I’d ever intended to.
I didn’t interrupt his writing, simply responding to his request for dinner with a post-it note, which got me a crooked grin and twinkling eyes.
I sat on the sofa with my laptop, catching up with emails from various people about commissions and purchases. I had a trip to Monaco booked in three weeks’ time, a fashion shoot that also involved a couple of racing drivers, not that I had any idea who they were. I also had a request from Zoey Carter to do a shoot for her on the island that was an easy and interesting job. She’d lived next door to Amelie and Roman at one point, when she was just becoming famous. From what I’d heard, she had a close friendship with Roman’s son, Caleb, and visited the island every so often to see him and get some normality. Anglesey had been home to the heir to the throne at one point, so the residents were pretty good at letting people just blend in.
There was also an email from my sister’s solicitors, letting me know that royalties for the last six months were on the way to the savings account I’d set up. I didn’t need the money; my career was one that provided me with a healthy income and I’d been left the total of my parents’ estate. Ivy’s earnings from her books went into an account that would be for our baby, for university or a house or a year’s travelling across the world.
The day after tomorrow was the anniversary of her death.
Five years.
Half a decade.
Five Christmases, five birthdays, five summers. The firsts had been the worst, like everyone said, and the pain was different now, less fresh, less sharp, but it was still there. Grief was a cut that never truly healed. It scabbed over at first, but was easily knocked by a pretty sunset or a familiar scent. Gradually the skin grew closed, the scab smaller each time, but what was left was scar tissue, which felt different, looked different.
I was different.
Gully was different.
I put a hand on my stomach, feeling the very slight curve. I had my first scan in two weeks, which we were excited about. Ivy wouldn’t have been at it anyway, but she’d have been the first person I’d have sent a picture of the scan to.
Gully turned around as if he was reading my thoughts.
He stood up and strode over to me, covering the distance with a few easy paces. “You’re not okay.”
His arms gathered around me, pulling us close together.
“How did you know?”
“I was watching your reflection in the glass. It’s because of the anniversary, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “Five years.”
“Five years,” he repeated, pressing one of his kisses against my head. “We should do something for the day.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “Go away for the night. Chester or Manchester or Liverpool. I know we could go to the arch and sit in the Puffin Inn, but your sister would never have done the same thing every year to remember something and you know that’s true.”
“It is. She’d probably visit a new city or go sky diving or bungee jumping.” I shook my head, my arms around Gully’s neck now, wondering how being this close to him managed to soothe everything every time, apart from one annoying itch.
“You’re not bungee jumping or sky diving. Even if you weren’t pregnant, that still wouldn’t be happening.”
I stepped back, out of his hold. “I would if I wanted to.”
His expression changed, his mouth opening and closing as if he was going to say something but wasn’t sure what.
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t do anything to risk this baby. You know that. And I won’t do anything to stop our baby from having a mother – I won’t put myself at risk, but I get to decide what’s risky. You don’t get to tell me what to do.” I felt fire rise.
Gully stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked a little like a rabbit caught in some very bright headlights.
“Bad choice of words.” He swallowed. “Let me explain it better, please.”
I nodded, knowing I’d jumped too quickly – I just didn’t like being told what to do. “Okay. Dig yourself out of the hole.”
“Ivy died because she made a risky decision to take a motorbike out during a storm along a path that wasn’t designed for bikes full stop. She was an adrenaline junky. She lived for taking risks and I lost her because of that. I am fucking petrified of losing someone else I love. When it storms, I worry about my brothers or Thane or Caleb going out on the lifeboat. I worry about Finn slicing something off when he’s pissing about with his woodwork. I worry that Roe’s going to put himself in harm’s way with his online antics – even though I know it’s unrealistic. I worried about you on the walk you did this morning in case you fell. It’s ridiculous, Iris. It’s fucking stupid. I’m scared of going through that loss again, of having someone ripped away.”
I nodded, needing words to fill the hole that was now obvious and not the one he’d dug for himself.
“I’ve seen a therapist. I talk to Freya too. My brothers probably know but we don’t talk about it, because it’s irrational. If you wanted to do a skydive or a bungee jump it wouldn’t be my place to stop you but I’d fucking research the hell out of the company you did it with.” He took a hand out from his pocket and rubbed his hair, a nervous habit I’d noticed.
“I’m scared of heights, Gul. I’m not going to be doing either of those things. I just don’t like being told what I can and can’t do.” I closed the distance myself this time, but I didn’t touch him. “I’m also really good at looking after myself and I’m not my sister. Ivy was an extreme and she lived life like she might die the next day because that was how she felt. Time was short, so fill it with everything you can. If today’s your last day then - ”
“Make it unforgettable. She said that to me.” His smile was watery. “I won’t tell you what to do. But forgive me if I get worried.”
There was a way to bring the light back in. I took it, even though it was a gamble. A twist instead of stick.
“There is a place where I like being told what to do.”
Gully frowned at me. “Where?”
“The bedroom.” And that was when I decided it was a good time to leave the room.
We headed out at six-thirty as planned, to a venue I hadn’t been informed of. We’d had an impromptu afternoon visit from Finn with Elsie and Elias, who weren’t much company as Finn had made them walk most of the way so they were shattered. Gully was amazing with them as usual, not just in a show-uncle kind of way, but actually looking like there was no place else he’d rather be.
“The day after tomorrow.” Finn had said, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Me and Ruby were wondering what you wanted to do.”
Gully looked over at me and cracked a grin. He hadn’t said anything about my bedroom comment and I got the impression he was saving it for later. I’d caught him looking at me more often during the afternoon, watching me when he thought I wasn’t looking. When I noticed, I made sure he knew he’d been caught out, giving him a not-so-shy-smile.
“We’re going away for the night. I wondered whether we could do something here at the weekend together. A barbecue or something, maybe walk down to the arch.”
It was a smooth move from Gully, not explaining where we were going or why, just giving an alternative.
I knew that each year, they’d gathered to remember Ivy and to give Gully support, the exception being two years ago when we’d been in New Orleans.
“Okay. That works out better for the kids as well. Zoey’s over too if you want to ask her and Caleb.” Finn knitted his eyebrows together but didn’t push it.
“Are Zoey and Caleb together?” Curiosity got the better of me. “She’s asked me to do some photos of her in a couple of weeks.”
Finn shrugged. “No one knows. They’ve been friends since they were kids.”
“Teenagers, you mean.” Gully corrected him. “They met when Roman first moved here and they’ve stayed in touch. But I think they’re just friends.”
“Probably with benefits.” Finn shook his head. “You can’t be friends like they are and not have something going on. No way.” He looked from me to Gully and shrugged, shaking his head again but at me and his brother now. “Where are you going to stay?”
“Good question.” I stared at Gully. “Because he’s not told me yet.”
“I’ve booked a hotel room.” He folded his arms, and struck a casual pose.
“Just one?” Finn’s grin was shit-eating. He looked from Gully to me. “Where?”
“York. Two nights. Can you put Mavis’ bins out on Thursday? I said you’d do it for me.” He frowned and tugged at a lock of hair.
I loved how he was so considerate of Mavis. They had a funny relationship as she really didn’t like most people and made an exception for Gully. I’d already had a warning off her not to mess him about, followed by a hand knitted baby’s blanket in a sunny yellow, which I really liked, even though it was a little too soon. I’d shown it to Gully and put it away in a drawer, hoping that all went well and we’d be using it in another few months.
Outside Gully’s family and Amelie, Mavis was the only other person who knew I was pregnant, for another couple of weeks anyway. Clover had even managed to keep it quiet.
“No probs. I’ll check on her while I’m there too.” He stood up, eyeing his offspring. “They’re sleeping. Can I leave them here?”
“How long for,” Gully said, frowning.
Finn shrugged. “Till you come back from York. Elias can fend for him and Elsie. They won’t trash the place. Honest.”
Gully slowly shook his head. “Take your children home, Finn.”
Finn shrugged. “Ruby’s going to kill me for letting them nap now. They’ll be up late tonight.”
“See if Roe will babysit and take Ruby out for dinner.”
Finn grinned. “Good idea. A cousin sleepover.”
We didn’t end up at the same restaurant as Ruby and Finn, although Finn did manage to con Roe into having Elsie and Elias for a sleepover. Gully was really entertained by the whole thing, especially when we were leaving at seven o’clock, which was Elias’ usual bedtime and Roe was complaining on the family text thread that Elias and Elsie were still up and very active.
No one heard anything from Finn, Freyaor Ruby.
We went to a restaurant in Rhosneigr that was based in a hotel, the food tasty and upmarket, the service discreet and polite.
“How come we’ve gone out for dinner? As in out-out?” I was dressed in what I’d call date clothes, making an effort for a long list of reasons.
Gully sat back in his chair, his gaze on me, studying. “I wanted to take you somewhere different.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought we’d enjoy being somewhere that isn’t Puffin Bay.” His eyes were making my skin burn. If only I could read his mind.
His leg brushed against mine under the table, stopping next to it. He’d been a perfect gentleman this evening, opening my car door, holding an umbrella over me so I didn’t get wet getting to the car and then to the restaurant, pulling out my chair.
He looked the part too, wearing smart trousers and a button-down shirt that I hadn’t seen before, the cuffs rolled up so I could see his forearms, dusted with dark hair, corded with muscle from running and playing football and gym work with his brothers.
I wondered if he was showing that flesh on purpose.
I wondered if he knew it was cat-nip for pregnant women.
I swallowed, aware that his leg was still touching mine. “Is this a date?”
“Might be.” There was that lopsided grin that made women swoon.
I nodded, just about holding myself together. “But you didn’t ask me, so it can’t be.”
“I did ask you. I even sent it in a note. You replied back on a post-it.” That grin again.
“You didn’t mention the word date.”
He shrugged, looking smug. “What would be different if I had?”
“I don’t know.”
“Would you have dressed differently?” He made an obvious glance at my dress, which was low cut and tight.
I felt my cheeks warm, remembering that he knew exactly what was under there.
“No. I wouldn’t actually.”
“So you dressed for a date. So you either knew, or hoped, it was a date.” He was smug now. “One or the other. I like what you’re wearing, by the way.”
“Thank you.” I sat a little straighter. “You look smart too.”
His eyes gleamed. “I didn’t say you looked smart.”
I managed to glare. “How do I look then?”
“Like you’d look better in my bed.” He sat back and folded his arms, as if he was watching a bomb go off now he’d dropped it.
My mouth went dry. I knew Gully was a flirt and he’d talked countless number of women into his bed or car, or anywhere with fifty percent privacy. I’d heard tales from Ivy before she’d died and then his brothers since being in Puffin Bay, once they were sure Gully and I were just friends.
“You see me with my head down a toilet every morning.” I decided now was a good time to remind him of that.
“Because you’re pregnant with my child. I see you every morning when you’re on your knees throwing up and you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. You always have been.” The cockiness to his words was mixed with something else, a roughness that was badly hidden vulnerability.
“I was your friend’s little sister.”
He nodded. “That doesn’t exclude you from being more to me than that. I can still want you in my bed. Under me. Me inside you again.” The volume of his words dropped. “I can remember vividly what you were like when you came and I want to do that again, to make you forget everything apart from my name.”
I sipped my water, wishing it was wine.
“Why didn’t you – why didn’t bring this up after New Orleans?” Two years ago tomorrow. That was when we’d spent that single night together.
He shook his head. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever been with who’s had my number and not followed up afterwards. I assumed that we were drawing a line under it. Then you were dating and being semi-serious with some bloke whose head I wanted to crush. I wanted more, but not at the expense of our friendship.”
“And now? What’s changed? I’m pregnant and we’re having a baby?” I felt a jolt of fear. Worry for some reason.
“No. You’re in my house and in my life and if I thought that was all you wanted, I’d keep quiet. We’d co-parent and be friends and I’d always be your biggest cheerleader. But I don’t want to be just that and I don’t think that’s all you want either. I see the way you look at me sometimes and when I touch you, I know it makes you shiver in the best fucking way. You don’t let friends see you like your camera captured, Iris.” He shook his head slightly. “And this isn’t just because you’re having my baby. In fact, it doesn’t have anything to do with that.”
I swallowed, wondering how his words could be having this effect on me, sitting here in public with waiters mooching about and a woman who kept glancing at us who probably recognised Gully.
“If Ivy was alive - ”
“She’d already know what I felt. I don’t think you being Ivy’s sister has anything to do with how I feel about you, or how much I want to fuck you right now, other than she’s how we met and we would’ve met anyway, even without her dying.” He reached under the table and pulled on my leg.
I raised it, feeling Gully’s hand knock off the slip on shoe I’d been wearing.
“Feel.” He shifted, guiding my food to between his legs where I could feel his thick erection through his pants. “That’s just me imagining you in my bed.”
He looked pained. I wasn’t sure if it was frustration or something else.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t tell you how I feel.”
“You haven’t. Apart from that you’re horny.” I tried to laugh. It didn’t come out right, mainly because my foot was still assessing his erection.
“You drive me mad. In the best way.”
I shook my head. “It’s probably because I’m pregnant.”
“It isn’t because you’re pregnant. Not just that anyway.”
A waiter came over, pleasant smile in place. “Can I get you any dessert?”
The dessert menus had been in front of us for about fifteen minutes. “Can I have the strawberries and cream, please?” I looked at Gully, letting him know we needed a response.
“Nothing for me, thank you.” He pushed the menu away slightly, giving the waiter a friendly smile before he headed away.
“I drive you mad?” I pushed at his cock with my foot, imagining how it would feel in my hand instead.
“Insane.”
“How? What I’m doing now?”
He shook his head. “What you wear in the house, when I hear you in the shower, when I’m holding you in the morning. When I was touching your tits, I just wanted my brother to fuck off back home so I could have you there at the bottom of the garden.”
So it wasn’t just Gully who was aroused now.
“Let’s go home and do it.”
He shook his head. “Not tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want you to combust as much as me first.”
Dear Gully,
I’m writing this while lying in bed, thinking of you. You’re two rooms away and I know you’re awake, probably thinking about me, probably wondering what I’m doing, whether I’m touching myself, whether I’m going to think about you when I make myself come.
I thought a lot about that night in New Orleans. I thought about how you fucked me against the wall as soon as we got into my hotel room, how desperate we were to touch each other, like it was the end of the world and those were our last few hours. The night was sultry and filled with feelings and freedom.
I remember how it felt when you first entered me. You were big and wide and you filled me better than anyone else ever had and I came too quickly which made you grin like the smug fucker you are some times.
I think about that night when I touch myself. I think about you. I thought about you a lot over the last couple of years, even when I was having sex with someone else because it was the quickest way to get off.
Did you think about me?
I’m going to push this under your bedroom door and then I’m going to close my eyes and think about you and what could happen if you come into my room after you’ve read this.
Would you touch me? Would you use your fingers or your mouth or your cock?
Would you tell me what to do and would you treat me like spun glass?
You don’t need to, because I know you’d never let me break or fracture or fall.
Or are you all talk, Gulliver Holland, and was our night in New Orleans a one hit wonder?
Yours, about to test out my fingers,
Iris