Chapter 7 #3
He makes an involuntary wanton noise that makes me grin because I feel the same way about the prospect, but when he goes to get up and gather our empty plates, my hand shoots out and grasps the sleeve of his hoodie, forcing him to stop.
‘Let me. I’m not your guest, I’m your wife, remember? You’ve had a long day and…’
And if I don’t fill my hands with something right this second, I’m going to hug him, which would be totally inappropriate, and I’m pretty sure I’ve already been inappropriate enough for one evening.
He murmurs a thank you and leans back in his chair again, stretching with a tired-sounding groan as I gather up our plates and carry them back to the other side of the kitchen.
I dump everything in the sink and clatter around, digging out two more bowls, finding the tin Nancy has left the mince pies in, and rooting out a tub of vanilla ice cream from the freezer.
‘That wasn’t a long day,’ Ollie says as I heat up two pies in the microwave. ‘I’m home before 7 p.m.’
‘Then what on earth is a long day?’ The microwave pings and I spoon ice cream onto the hotter-than-lava mince pies and carry them back to the table before it melts.
‘I work from our field office in Tarbert, about an hour away, but a couple of times a week, I have to commute into Glasgow. A long day is leaving at 5 a.m. and not getting home until after 10 p.m.’
I wince. Getting across London in rush hour suddenly looks easy. ‘Not the seaplane?’
‘No flights early enough.’
‘That’s one hell of a commute.’ I’m so distracted by what he’s saying that I shove a spoonful of mince pie into my mouth without enough ice cream to cool it down and jump when I burn my tongue.
‘It’s not too bad,’ he says softly, making sensible steam vents in his pie with the spoon.
‘At the risk of sounding completely tragic, I don’t really have anything in my life besides work.
It’s not like I’m missing out on family time.
If I wasn’t commuting, I’d be knocking around here alone, so…
’ He shoves a too-hot mouthful into his mouth too and then continues after it’s gone.
‘And it’s the most beautiful drive. Right along the banks of Loch Lomond and across the Rest and Be Thankful. No one can complain about that.’
‘You must be exhausted though.’
He shrugs again, even though he clearly is.
‘I get home, shower, Nancy’s left me something for dinner, I catch up on anything I didn’t get done at the office or get ahead for tomorrow, and then sprawl on the sofa in front of the TV and usually wake up in an uncomfortable position a few hours later and drag myself to bed.
I don’t lead a very exciting life. You’re probably used to, I don’t know, city vibes and vibrant nightlife, and it’s not like that here. ’
I almost laugh at the thought. ‘My pay doesn’t cover the cost of renting a flat in London, so I rent the spare room in my sister’s house because she feels sorry for me.
I spend my evenings holed up in my room, feeling like an inconvenience and trying not to encroach on her family time with her husband and son.
Trying not to make my presence known, to be invisible so no one remembers I’m still there when I should’ve moved out months ago. ’
His teeth are worrying his lower lip as he looks at me, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. His voice is a low rumble when he speaks. ‘Don’t do that here. Make your presence known, always. I want you here. I want to know you’re here.’
‘I leave glitter everywhere I go. You can’t miss me.’
He holds his hand out, and when I slip my fingers into his again, he gives my hand a tight squeeze. ‘Good.’
It’s such a simple word, but it makes my breath catch in my throat and tears threaten to fill my eyes, and he quickly lets go.
After one short conversation, he feels like the antidote for everything that’s been so wrong in my life lately. ‘Thank you. That’s one of the loveliest things anyone could say to me.’
He mumbles an unintelligible accord and shoves another mouthful of mince pie into his mouth, and I do the same.
When the mince pies are gone, Ollie washes up and I dry while he shows me where everything goes, and when that’s done, we both seem reluctant to let this moment end.
‘I’d better go and do some prep for tomorrow,’ he says eventually. ‘I’ll be in the office if you need anything.’
‘And I’ll be down here, playing with loo roll Christmas trees, measuring up for lights, and definitely not scoffing another one of those mince pies before bed.’
He laughs and it warms something inside me more than the lava-esque mince pie did. ‘The only reason there’s any left at all is because I didn’t want you to know I’d eat the entire tin if left unattended.’
I laugh as we walk towards the door together and he holds it open for me to duck through under his arm.
‘I’m really glad you’re here, Lula.’
‘You said that last night.’
‘Okay, well, I am really glad you’re here, and in the past twenty-four hours, you haven’t done anything to change my opinion. How’s that?’
‘Much better, thank you.’ I bite back a giggle and he’s fighting a losing battle to stamp down a smile. It’s been a long time since I felt wanted anywhere, and not just butterflies, but everything flutters inside of me.
There is something truly special about this place, and I’m beginning to think it’s not just the building.