Chapter Fifty-One
“Barbeque and wedding leftovers,” Lady B tells me when we run into each other in the great hall, as I’m making my way back
to my room. “Thought we’d make the most of the weather and have a nice, low-key evening before all the glitz and glamour of
tomorrow. No need to dress for dinner tonight.”
“Sounds great,” I say. “Love leftovers and elasticated waists.”
“Yes, and there is surplus champagne too,” Lady B says. “Perhaps after a glass or two you can give us some more of your tips
on relationships as after-dinner entertainment,” Lady B calls after me as I start up the stairs.
“Ha. Ha,” I say. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“No, darling,” she says. “You never are, you wonderful creature.”
Then as I turn the corner into my bedroom hallway, I see Forrest standing outside my bedroom door, looking like he’s thinking
about whether or not to knock. My heart starts, and I force myself not to run in the opposite direction. I am a grown-up.
This is a grown-up situation. I shall approach it in a mature and sophisticated way. I can bawl my eyes out later.
“Forrest?” I say as I approach. He turns toward me and looks a little startled, and a little flustered, embarrassed even. I go for dignified and regal, detached and aloof. “Are you looking for me?”
“Yes,” he says. “Can we talk?”
“Why, of course,” I say, lifting my chin a little, opening my bedroom door and inviting him in. It’s very important I don’t
look directly at him. Looking directly at him might result in me flinging myself at him, and that would never do. The room
is flooded with early evening light, warm and dreamy. Forrest paces over to the window, and then to the mantelpiece, and then
back to the window.
“I can’t believe that I haven’t seen you all day,” he says. “Sorry about that. I knew that tonight we wouldn’t be able to
talk, and I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea, you know, the wrong impression. I wanted to be clear that . . .”
“Forrest, it’s okay,” I tell him, doing my best to be mature and detached. “I get it. I understand, of course I do.”
“Do you?” Forrest takes a step towards me and then pauses. “Just to be clear, what exactly do you get?”
“We had a great night together, I have no regrets. But I know you and Artie will be going back to the US soon, and that you’re
not looking for anything more than a lovely fling. You don’t need to worry. I’m not going to have a breakdown and cry like
a baby. I’m not going to fling myself at you, embarrass or stalk you or . . .”
“You’re not?” Forrest says.
“No.” I do my best to be dignified. “I enjoyed what we shared very much, and I wish you all the best for the future.”
“You wish me all the best for the future?” Forrest repeats.
“Yes,” I say, wishing he’d just take my word for it and go away so I can have a breakdown and cry like a baby. “Like I said, you don’t have to worry about me being an emotional mess. I’ve got it all under control.”
“Well, good,” Forrest says. “Because I haven’t. I am a total emotional mess, Ava.”
“You mean you do regret what happened?” I ask, scared of the answer.
“No, because I don’t regret it at all, not one little bit. Because it was the most amazing night of my life, in so many ways.
I mean the ghost stuff was life-changing, but the being naked with you stuff was like . . . wow.”
“Wow. Poor effort for a poet,” I say, wondering if this is going where I think it might be going, not daring to believe that
it could.
“I’m sorry, you do leave me dumbstruck.” Forrest looks at Cecily’s portrait as he searches for the right words. “I know it’s
crazy complicated, and that we live on the other side of the Atlantic from each other. I have Artie to think about, your whole
life is here, and maybe I haven’t had the same impact on you as you’ve had on me. There’s every chance you’re going to tell
me to pull myself together and get out, but I have to take the risk and put it out there. I can’t stop thinking about you,
Ava, and I think . . . I think maybe I might be falling in love with you.”
“Pardon?” I ask, blinking rapidly.
“I’m falling in love with you, Ava,” Forrest says. “I think I have been since the moment you ruined my shirt.”
“Well, that’s ridiculous. I was awful to you and then treated you terribly and . . .”
“Ava.” Forrest interrupts me. “Could we just get to the part where you say how you feel about me before I drop dead on the spot? Because if you aren’t feeling the same way, I need to know.”
“I thought you were coming here to let me down gently,” I tell him. “You know, thanks for amazing sex, nice knowing you, great
breasts, have a good life. That’s sort of thing.”
Forrest shakes his head and laughs, kind of exasperated with me.
“That’s not why I’m here, Ava. I came to say the exact opposite. To practice what I preach and let my heart lead. To tell
you I don’t want to say goodbye to you in a few days and to ask you, that if it was okay with you and Artie, to come back
home with us. Because I don’t think I can stand having a whole ocean between us, not even for a second.”
“Ohhhhhhhh,” I say, looking at the wardrobe and wondering if it would be too weird to get in it and close the door.
“I’m freaking you out,” Forrest says, taking a step back. “I’m sorry, I’m going too fast.”
“This is a lot to take in,” I manage to say, “and I do feel extremely awkward right now and I’ll be honest with you. I have
no idea what I might say or do in the next few minutes, Forrest, because when I’m on the spot or overwhelmed, there’s a really
high chance I can do something that many people find weird.”
“You can do and say what you like with me,” Forrest says. “You’re not weird. You’re you, and I am in love with you. But I’m
going now. I’ll go. You need some time and space.”
He reaches for the door, opening it slightly.
“But before you go, can we do some kissing?” I hear myself saying. “I really like the kissing and you look so handsome in
that T-shirt.”
Before he can answer I flight myself into his arms and kiss him as madly and passionately as a girl that was just thinking about getting into a wardrobe can kiss a boy. And that is actually quite a lot.
“I like you too,” I tell him, a little breathless, when I break the kiss. “I was only role-playing aloof.”
“You like me too,” Forrest says, smiling. “You like me too.”
“An embarrassing amount,” I say.
Then all the anxiety and awkwardness fades away and we kiss, slowly and lazily this time. Certain of one another as we stand
barefoot on the sun-warmed carpet. It would be so easy to fall onto my bed and lose the rest of the day in his arms.
“You are doing kissing, Daddy!” Forrest and I bounce apart as we turn around to find Artie, a teddy tucked under one arm,
wearing her Viking helmet at a jaunty angle, observing in the same way you might look at something interesting but also kind
of gross. “Are you and Ava boyfriend-girlfriend now?”
“We do like each other in a sort of boyfriend-girlfriend kind of way,” Forrest says. “I was going to tell you, Artie, once
I . . .”
“Gross,” Artie says. “Anyway, Ava, I wanted you to come with me to fight the Saxons please? We will drink in Valhalla tonight!”
“Juice,” Forrest says. “We will drink juice in Valhalla tonight as long as it’s before nine p.m.”
“I think bedtime is a violation of my free speech,” Artie says. “How can I do speaking if I’m asleep?”
“Honey, come here.” Forrest beckons Artie over. He crouches down and she steps into his arms.
“Nine thirty?” she offers.
“Would it be okay if Ava and Daddy are boyfriend-girlfriend?”
Artie thinks for a moment.
“It’s okay, I like Ava, she is clever and funny, so it’s okay, I guess, if you don’t kiss in front of me because it’s ick,”
Artie says, and then she thinks for a minute. “And let me stay up until ten to kill Saxons.”
“Nine thirty.” Forrest offers her a hand as she shakes it firmly. “Well, you’ll have to fight Saxons after dinner. Come on,
let’s go and get you washed up.”
“Vikings don’t mind being dirty, Daddy,” Artie says, as he picks her up.
Forrest graces me with the most beautiful smile, as she continues to make a case for grubbiness in girlhood.
“Well,” I tell Cecily’s portrait. “Forrest Faulkner of the improbable name likes me back. Forrest Faulkner, with the biceps
and abs, says he can’t bear the thought of the whole Atlantic between us. Forrest Faulkner, whose kisses make me dizzy and
delirious, says he’s falling for me. And his daughter thinks I’m silly and fun, Cecily. Who’d have thought it?”
This is one of those rare happy moments that are so perfect, you know right in this second that you will remember it forever
no matter what happens next.
And then the sadness comes, like a twist in the gut with a knife.
How can I tell Forrest that I can’t go back to the States with him?