Chapter 77
77
The sound of a car outside woke me. Thick-headed, I reached for my phone. I’d been asleep for over three hours.
“Anna?”
What?
“Anna?”
The room darkened; my mystery visitor had pressed their face against the window, trying to see in. Oh God, no. It was Joey.
“Go away,” I called.
“Can I come in?”
“No.”
“Can you come out?”
“No.”
I braced myself for another question so I could, once again, shout “No.” But nothing.
He’d yell something else soon. But still nothing. I felt as if I were holding my breath, so sighing heavily, I flung off my blanket, got up and wrenched the door open. “What?”
Joey, in a dark coat, his collar up against the cold, leant against his car.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“To tell you I’ve nothing to do with Rose’s venture. You wouldn’t take my calls so I came in person.”
“There was no need. She told me herself.”
“Wait, you already know? You believe it?”
“Yeah.”
His eyes moved over me. I couldn’t read his expression but he wasn’t happy. Pushing himself from the car, he moved to the driver’s door.
“Hey,” I called. “She said she offered it to you first. Why’d you turn her down?”
He paused. “Would you believe me if I said it was because of you?”
“Nope. See ya.”
“Okay. Bye, Anna.” He opened the car door.
I turned back into the house, then asked, “Would you have made a lot of money?”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “Tons.”
“Seriously?” I was genuinely interested. “How much?”
“Enough to keep my four children in private schools for the next academic year.”
“You shouldn’t send them to private schools,” I said. “They’ll get the wrong values.”
“Isn’t it lucky then that I turned it down?”
“Yep, it all worked out.”
“Except it didn’t.”
“How’s that, then?”
“I thought it might convince you that I’m not a terrible man. But it hasn’t. To you, I am a terrible man. I always will be.”
I shrugged. His face changed. To my alarm, he seemed about to cry.
“Hey. Wait. Joey, wait.”
Mutely, he shook his head and got into his car. I hurried out, catching the driver’s door before it shut. “Come into the house, Joey. Please.”
He looked at me, tears spilling from his eyes. I was appalled. Even Angelo didn’t cry. But to see it from Joey, of all men, broke my heart.
“Come on.” I took his hand, closing both of mine around it and led him into the house. “I’m sorry, Joey. I know you’re not a terrible man. I’m the terrible one, punishing you for something you didn’t do.”
Looking hollowed out with exhaustion, he sank onto the couch.
“What can I get you? Coffee? Something to eat? A nap?”
“Nothing.”
The room was cold. The fire needed to be lit. Making for the door, I said, “Two seconds.”
“Where are you going?” He sounded alarmed.
“Out the back to get briquettes.”
I was barely gone a minute but when I returned he’d fallen asleep, his head on a cushion, his beautiful coat abandoned on the armchair.
It gave me painful pleasure to drape the throw over his body and tuck it in around his chest, stroking it gently over his ribs. While he was oblivious in sleep, I could treat him with unending tenderness, stare at his beautiful face, at the scattering of little boy freckles across the bridge of his nose. As I stroked his silky hair off his forehead his hand shot up and grabbed mine. “Please stay,” he murmured, instantly disappearing back into sleep.
I sat on the floor, holding on to his hand, watching the lift and fall of his chest as he inhaled and exhaled. In and out, in and out, keeping himself alive—the miracle of it. Joey was breathing, Joey was alive. I was breathing, I was alive. We were both alive. That was no small thing.
With a sudden gasp, he jerked awake and sat up. “Oh, thank God.” His breath was coming hard. “I was afraid I’d dreamed you.”
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He studied me. “That depends on you. Am I?”
I nodded. “Sorry for being a bitch. A mad one.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about the Shithole. After Rose offered me the chance, I knew she’d keep trying with other brokers. I was freaked. But the research told me not to be. I’d heard that maybe she’d pulled something together but the little I knew was embargoed. And deals fall apart all the time, right up to the last second—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Hey, come up off the floor, would you?”
As soon as I stood, his hands closed on my hips and tumbled me down, to lie beside him, under the throw. There wasn’t really room for the two of us. His arm, tight around my waist, was all that kept me from falling off. My head had ended up in the crook of his elbow, so I shifted to see him properly. Suddenly our faces were almost touching, we were breathing each other’s air and as I watched, his pupils went dark.
“It happened again,” I said. “I saw your pupils dilate.”
“As I said, there’s a reason they do that.”
I could ask him. It was safe. “Tell me.”
“Because. Anna Walsh. I’m in love with you.”
The words, their impact, made me choke. “Really, Joey?”
“Anna.” He took a breath. “You haunt me.”
All at once, I saw right into his soul and he into mine. I believed him. He trusted me. Our final few barriers had dissolved, replaced by a miraculous bond.
“And I’m in love with you, Joey.” Such relief to finally say these words.
My mouth was on his, his was on mine and, oh my God, the taste of him, the touch of his tongue, the smell of his skin. He broke off and whispered, “Anna Imelda Walsh,” moving his fingertips across my face, as if checking I was real. Then, “Anna.” Kiss. “Imelda.” Kiss. “Walsh.” Kiss.
We gazed at each other. Cradling his perfect face in my hands, I moved my thumbs along his cheekbones and pulled them across his lips. I even traced the lids of his eyes. “You’re so beautiful.”
“You’re more.” Dropping a line of butterfly kisses along my scar, he murmured, “Sweet-face. Always.”
Skimming the front of his trousers, his sharp inbreath thrilled me. My fingers traced the outline of his erection and it twitched, like a living thing. Under the throw, his free hand slipped beneath the hem of my T-shirt. When his fingertips reached my skin, I shuddered.
He tensed. “Is this okay?”
I managed a gasp-laugh. “Are you insane?”
Sliding his hand upwards he met my bare breast.
“It’s No Bra Monday,” I managed.
I felt him smile against my mouth.
Lightly, his thumb circled my nipple, moving close, but not close enough. Agonizingly slowly, another circuit began, this time getting nearer. Striving for his touch, I almost wrenched myself out of my own skin. Then his thumb glanced off the sensitized tip and a sharp squeak escaped me.
He took a quick look at the window, realizing that all of Maumtully could come along and spy on us.
“Unless you’re into an audience…?” he said.
“No.”
“Me neither.”
“Upstairs.”
My heart pounded. What if, after all of this build-up, things went weird and sad?
“Hey.” He held my face in his hands. “We’ve got a lot of past, you and me. Good chance we’re gonna be reminded of it. But we don’t freak out, okay? We talk about it, we don’t give up and we practise until we get it right.”
But what if I’d gotten too old and…
“We’re both a bit older,” he murmured. “None of that matters.”
He’d read my mind. His fears were my fears. And we had a plan B.