Page 62 of The Wedding Pact

‘But we probably shouldn’t do it again. I’m not able to give a relationship enough oxygen right now.’

‘Me neither.’

‘Then let’s call this a hiccough.’

‘Really? A hiccough?’

‘Okay, call it whatever you like, but we shouldn’t do it again… right?’

I feel simultaneously disappointed and determined to be cool about this. ‘Sure. Fine. Like I say, I wasn’t expecting it either and have no expectations of doing it again.’

‘Right. Me neither.’

There’s a slightly tense pause where we both take a moment to process this.

‘So, I guess I should head off to my own bed and let you get on with some work then,’ I say.

He looks surprised by this. ‘Err, yeah. Sure. Okay. If that’s what you want.’

I slide out of bed and redress myself, intensely aware of his gaze on me.

I really want him to say, Actually, don’t go. Sleep here with me. But he doesn’t. Which, I guess, is probably for the best.

We should both take a beat, get some sleep and reassess the situation in the morning.

As I reach the bedroom door, I hear him draw in a breath and I turn to look at him expectantly.

‘Sleep well,’ he says, then presses his mouth into a friendly grin.

‘You too,’ I say, hurriedly leaving the room before he can see the disappointment on my face.

Back in my own room, I get washed in the bathroom, then slide between my cool sheets, already missing the feeling of his body against mine.

I toss and turn for a bit, not able to get comfortable. My body feels wired and full of adrenaline. Like it needs to expend more energy somehow.

A loud knocking sound makes me jump and I sit up and stare at the door.

Was that a knock? Or did I imagine it? Conjure it up with wishful thinking?

But it comes again and it’s definitely someone knocking at my bedroom door.

‘Come in!’ I shout, a smile already pushing at the corners of my mouth.

Raffa opens the door and comes striding in. ‘I couldn’t concentrate. Or sleep,’ he announces in a frustrated tone.

‘Me neither,’ I say with a mock pout.

‘Want some company?’

‘Absolutely,’ I say, motioning for him to come and get into my bed with me.

To hell with being sensible. Where’s the fun in that?

11

RAFFA

I wake up the next morning with bright sunlight shining onto my face through a crack in the blinds.