The Bookshop of Second Chances Jackie Fraser (ebook reader macos .txt) 📖

‘Surely you could tell? I mean call me sentimental, or foolish or naïve, but it all seemed quite swoony and…’ I think back to that moment on the sofa, my hand on his chest, his fingers on my cheek, the hungry way we’d kissed, tongues entwined. ‘You know.’ I shrug again. ‘Sexy.’

‘Oh God,’ he says.

I shuffle my chair a little closer, leaning across the table, and he puts his hands in mine.

‘It’s difficult to talk about,’ I say. ‘Embarrassing and awkward. But it was nice of you to hug me and the kissing was a bonus.’

‘Okay.’

‘So please stop worrying about it.’

He laughs. ‘I’ll try.’

‘It’s not wrong to find someone attractive,’ I say. ‘I’m surprised that you do, but there we are. So now that’s all out in the open, can we be friends again?’

He tightens his hold on my hands. ‘I don’t know. Can we? Because I don’t imagine I’m going to stop feeling like this.’

I can’t quite look him in the eye. It’s so strange to hear him saying this stuff. His hands are warm; warmer than mine. It’s nice to hold hands, even if my arms are stretched further than is comfortable.

‘Yes, but you see, I think you’re missing the point,’ I tell him. ‘It works much better if you’re friends. I mean it’s more complicated, maybe, but if you’re not friends you can’t… there’s nothing to build on. Admittedly it’s hard to be friends afterwards, if you really throw yourself into it. I suppose we’d have to decide what was more important. It’s important to me to have a friend. And I don’t know how well I’d cope, at the moment, with someone being in love with me.’ I frown, because I’m still not convinced that he is, which is probably rude. But I can’t see why he would be. Lara was a bad example to give earlier, but it’s true there are a million women with good bones who haven’t slept with his brother who would be far more suitable. Anyway. ‘I don’t know. Once you sleep with someone, everything’s different, even if you try for it not to be.’

‘I’ve never tried to be friends with anyone I’ve slept with.’

I laugh. ‘No, I don’t suppose you have.’ I feel like this has all got a bit, I don’t know, impersonal almost. I’m not sure what to say now, as I lean here, my chin just above the surface of the table. Holding my head up is making my neck ache. It’s tempting to just lay my head on the table. I’m so tired. I put my forehead against the wood, and my nose, and close my eyes.

‘Thea. Are you all right?’

‘I’m just very tired.’

‘Should I go?’

‘We could sit somewhere more comfortable.’ I look up and he nods. I let go of his hands and get up. He gets up too and I lead him out to the hall. I’d intended to go through to the sitting room, but then I have a better idea. Or a more stupid idea. I’ve confused myself.

Going to bed would be mad, right? Can I ask him if he wants to? I’m not sure I can. Or what would happen if I did. I don’t know if I could do any of the things one does in bed. And taking someone to bed and then finding you can’t have sex with them is asking for trouble. I don’t think it’s a good idea. Even though now I’ve thought of it…

I know it’s a bad idea to sleep with people who are in love with you, if you’re not in love with them. I remember that much from my youth. Anyway, I still don’t believe he is, not really. It seems so unlikely.

And it’s not as though I’m completely not in love with him. There may be some grey areas.

I pause for a moment, and perhaps Edward notices my hesitation because he says my name so I turn towards him, and he pulls me closer. ‘May I kiss you?’ he says, which makes me laugh.

‘If you like.’

‘Sure?’

‘I’d like it, if you did.’

I’m glad it’s quite dark here in the cold passageway, on this wet Thursday afternoon in late October, because I know my face is red, and my hair has dried oddly, and I am, after all, wearing a pair of old man pyjamas that may well be almost as old as I am. Edward slides an arm round my waist and moves his other hand to my face. I close my eyes and we kiss very slowly. I’m shaking. I feel I’m all lips, conscious of my breasts against his chest, my own hands in his hair, amongst the curls. I’m breathless when he pulls away. He kisses my forehead, and squeezes me until I squeak. Then we look at each other for ages. Eventually I say, ‘Did you want to sit on the sofa?’ and he laughs. ‘Shall we?’ and we go into the sitting room.

It crosses my mind that it’s been a long time since I had sex on a sofa, and this thought makes me blush. I sit down hurriedly. I mean we’re not going to… There’s no need, is there? I have a perfectly serviceable bed hardly any distance away. Not that we’re going to have sex. Not yet anyway. Right?

We look at each other. I have no idea what to do.

‘Come here,’ he says, so I move slightly closer. I’m embarrassed, for some reason. Edward is entirely familiar to me – I’ve seen him at least three or four days a week, every week, since May. I spent twenty-four hours with him at the Shed. I’ve looked at his face more often than anyone else’s face since I got here, and yet now he looks quite different because we’ve kissed twice and he’s told me he… My brain shies away from the phrase, stupidly. Come on. He’s told me he loves me. These things have changed him