Chapter 47 Restoration
Restoration
Brandon
The days roll by, work a distraction at best—no longer the solace it once was. Not when she’s driving me insane.
At night, our hands wander, brushing, seeking, testing lines we haven’t quite crossed. Even when we bring each other to release, it never feels like enough. I want more.
I want to roll her onto her back and show her exactly what she does to me.
This morning nearly finished me.
I woke to find her wearing new satin sleepwear, glossy black fabric edged in red lace—utterly lethal. Leaving her for work felt like a punishment.
By the time I pull back into the drive eight hours later, I’ve thought of little else. Work kept my body moving, but my mind…every memory was an ambush.
The press of her mouth against mine.
Her body beneath me on the beach.
Her fingers twisted in my shirt like she never wants to let go.
Red lace.
It all feels unreal now, like a dream I never want to wake from.
But then I remember waking with her curled against me this morning—warm, trusting, impossibly precious—and it undoes me all over again.
Everything feels different, brighter and livelier. Even the air is crisp, full of possibility as I walk up the front path, whistling a low tune. That earns me a knowing smile from Barbara as she waters the roses out front.
“Did you have a good night, dear?”
Not ‘good day’ or ‘good afternoon,’ but I don’t care.
“Very,” I answer, which is an understatement.
I’m thinking of Lily.
I’ve been thinking of Lily all damn day, every day.
And if I don’t kiss her the moment I see her, I’m not entirely sure what will become of me.
I step inside, ready to sweep her into my arms—only to find the dining room full.
Catherine, Ellenor, and Lily are gathered around the dining table with snacks and a Monopoly board, Ellenor giving her latest monologue. The heat in my chest cools slightly.
Lily looks up first, smiling, hair in a messy bun with a few strands spilling loose in the sunlight. I want to pull her into me and kiss her properly—but with her mother and sister watching, I settle for a soft kiss to the top of her head.
I remain by Lily’s chair, leaning in to steal a chip and dip it in guacamole.
I like avocado, but Lily’s family have it religiously every day.
I wasn’t complaining—until they started combining it with Vegemite.
That little yellow jar of black, tar-like substance is an evil that should never have entered my house.
“How’s it going?” I ask.
“Ellenor’s a horrible landlord,” Lily says, tossing a wad of paper money onto the board. “She charged me nine hundred dollars in rent and then took my train station.”
“I warned you not to buy King’s Cross—I told you I’d be coming for you,” Ellenor replies primly, smoothing her new card on the table with a pleased smile. “Now to seal off platform nine and three-quarters.”
“You monster,” Lily hisses, then glances down when her phone buzzes against the table. She frowns, posture stiffening.
“What is it?” Ellenor asks, already leaning over to see.
“It’s…an email from Hilary Green.” Lily’s voice is slow, uncertain. “The scout.”
All movement around the table pauses.
She swallows and turns the screen so we can all see.
Email from Hilary Green—Silverpoint Records.
“They want to talk,” she murmurs. “About…opportunities.”
Opportunities.
Record label interest.
Everything she once said she wanted.
I don’t dare speak, neither to encourage nor to caution. I want this for her. But not if she’ll sacrifices herself in its pursuit.
“You’re not answering?” Ellenor demands as Lily locks her phone and places it face-down.
“I need to think about it.”
“What is there to think about? This is your career.”
Lily tilts her head at her, her words pointed. “Says the ex-lawyer.”
Ellenor bristles. “Hey. I’m still registered. I can go back anytime I want.” Then, softer, barely audible: “If I want to.”
Catherine sets her mug down, watching Lily carefully. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to decide anything now. Sleep on it.”
Lily nods slowly, then she turns to me, her question spoken in a soft voice. “Would you like to read in the garden with me? I could use some air.”
“Of course,” I say, leaving to fetch the special-edition Austen Lily bought at Sydney Airport from my bedside table.
“Hey, you can’t leave mid-game!” Ellenor protests.
“It’s been nearly four hours,” Lily counters, already stepping outside.
Catherine looks relieved and begins packing away.
Lily and I settle in wicker sun chairs in the shade, the leaves overhead already patchy with autumn gold.
Despite my best efforts, I struggle to concentrate on the story. So does she, her uninjured foot sliding along my shin, tracing sensual lines that make my hair stand on end in the best way. I’m soon on my feet, taking her hand.
“Come with me.”
I lead her along the side path towards the far wall of the cottage, where the hedge grows thick and the shade deepens—a pocket of privacy that feels stolen. Before she can ask what I’m doing, I gently press her back to the blue rendered wall.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” I confess quietly.
“You have?” she says, breathless.
“Yes,” I say, my voice low as I lean in, eyes drifting half-closed. “You’re all I can think about.”
The moment my mouth finds hers, all reason deserts me. She pulls me closer by the collar of my shirt, rising onto her toes, and I’m lost. My hands slide to her waist, her fingers threading into my hair, and we’re kissing like we’ve been waiting years for this.
It certainly feels like that.
Heat floods me, flames gathering, spreading, intensifying as we press closer, my body flush against hers, soft moans sighing near my ear as I move to her neck, unable to stop myself.
I have one hand braced beside her head, the other gripping her hip. She arches into me with a gasp that nearly breaks my restraint entirely.
And then Barbara appears, because of course she does.
“Elderflower cordial!” she trills, opening my gate with the spare key I should never have entrusted her with. She bears a tray of tall glasses beaded with condensation, the droplets sparkling.
Lily jerks, startled, cheeks flushed, lips beautifully swollen. I step back at once, dragging in a frustrated breath.
I used to believe Rupert and Barbara wanted to see me fall in love. Now I’m convinced they simply want to insert themselves in my business.
“This is delicious,” Lily manages, accepting a glass and very deliberately not making eye contact with me. I’m still staring at her lips, red and puffy from kissing. “Like lemonade, but…floral?”
“Homemade,” Barbara says proudly. “I boiled the elderflowers with sugar, lemon slices, and water. I foraged the elderflowers myself.”
None of this interests me. Irritation slips into my voice. “Found them in my hedgerows, did you?”
“Nonsense, dear. Your hedgerows are elder. Which, ironically, don’t grow elder,” she explains to Lily.
Barbara appears to have no remorse for having commando-crawled through my garden in the dead of night.
“Well, enjoy, dears. Don’t let me interrupt.”
She glides away with her tray, leaving us standing in the shade of my cottage.
Lily sips her cordial, cheeks still pink as she swirls the pale liquid with her straw.
“Shall we…go back and read?”
I follow her back to our chairs without protest, even though every part of me would rather I take her to bed.
As we read, my gaze drifts to her foot. The cast is gone, replaced by a lightweight neoprene ankle brace. She’s far more comfortable, but one thing she didn’t anticipate—or refused to think about—was that she would still need crutches for a while longer.
Which has delayed everything.
“It’ll be snowing by the time I can walk properly,” she lamented the other day.
“You should ask for a refund on the surgery,” Ellenor had replied lazily, only for Lily to point out that travel insurance had covered it.
For once, I knew enough about Harry Potter to spin it in their favour. “Look at the bright side—if you delay even longer, you might just spend Christmas at Hogwarts.”
A comment that seemed to have cheered both sisters up, except…
“That’s too long. My visa runs out before Christmas,” Lily pointed out.
That time I stayed silent. There are ways to extend a visa—and I have one in mind.
I finish my elderflower cordial, letting the sweetness pull me back to the present—to sunlight, and Lily, and this gentle afternoon that feels borrowed from another life entirely.
Catherine comes and calls us to dinner.
“One more chapter?” Lily pleads, though I’m not sure it’s the book that holds her interest. “You don’t mind, do you, Brandon? I want you to meet the Colonel.”
“I’ll like him, will I?”
“I think so. He’s my favourite character.”
“Hmm.” I smile and, without standing, drag her chair closer to mine for no other purpose than to be able to hold her hand.
With our fingers interlaced, I flip open the book with my free hand and begin to read with renewed concentration—curious to discover her favourite character.
And determined to not be jealous.