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it?’

‘Don’t let it be tricky. Come to bed.’

I close my eyes. ‘I’d like you to say that again.’

‘Thea, come to bed.’ He comes closer, his face in shadow. He puts his hand to my cheek, and I close my eyes. I’m shaking. He dips his head to kiss me, and I feel as though I might just melt away, knees weak. He’s warm, his arms round me, our bodies pressed together.

‘Oh God,’ he says. ‘I just… I really like you.’

‘I know. I really like you as well. It’s okay.’ I pat him gently. ‘You shouldn’t worry.’

‘I do though. I worry that–’

‘We can worry later; give it a couple of days, right?’ I slide my fingers between the buttons of his shirt, feel his skin warm against mine.

‘Yes.’ He kisses me again. ‘I never usually worry about this sort of thing.’

‘You surprise me. But anyway, try and channel that careless freedom. It’s no good both of us being tense.’

‘Are you tense?’

It takes me a while to answer this. ‘Less tense now,’ I say, finally. ‘Mm. Gosh you’re good at kissing.’

He rests his forehead against mine. ‘You say the nicest things.’

‘I also think you’re quite handsome,’ I say. ‘And you make me laugh.’

‘This is all good news.’

‘Isn’t it.’

I begin to undo his shirt, kissing his collarbone, his chest. I lay my ear against his heart and hear it beating. I put my finger on his nipple, and then my tongue. He groans, and I lay my hands flat on his belly, his sides, smooth skin, stroking, two fingers pushed into the waistband of his jeans, my other hand pressing against him, my palm against his erection, firm through the denim.

‘I think you should take off your clothes,’ I say, and he hurries to do so, wriggling out of his jeans and abandoning his shirt. Then he’s in bed.

‘Your turn,’ he says, so I unzip my dress and let it fall to the floor. I unpin my hair and take off my bra and knickers and climb in beside him, skin on skin.

‘Oh God,’ he says, which makes me smile to myself. He glows golden in the candlelight. I feel powerful, alluring even, full of sexual strength, confident in my ability to please and arouse. I don’t always feel like that, and I’m not saying it will last, but that’s how I feel now: lustful and filled with desire. It’s a long time since I felt like this; I’d almost forgotten what it was like.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ he says.

‘Especially when I’m not wearing my socks, eh?’ I say, which makes him laugh.

Later, he says, ‘Have you spoken to him? Chris, I mean?’

‘Not for a long time.’

‘How often do you talk to him?’

‘Oh, hardly ever. We email. Not often. But occasionally. I sent him a birthday card. Which is more than he managed for me.’ I smile. ‘That was the last time we spoke – on my birthday.’

‘In June? That’s ages ago. What does he think about you staying up here?’

‘I don’t know. Probably relieved to have me out of the way. Makes it easier for them to do coupley things with all our friends. I hope that doesn’t sound bitter; I don’t mean it to.’

‘But you haven’t heard from him since… last week?’

‘Has he told me himself, do you mean? That he’s going to be a father? No. I don’t know if he will, or if he’ll assume I know, or…’ I shrug.

‘And how do you feel about that, now?’

‘Oh, well, I think he’s mad,’ I say. ‘Think how old he’ll be when it’s twenty. I don’t think it can have been his idea. I know I was worried, last week, about that. But I’ve thought about it, and I don’t believe he… I think you were right. That if he’d wanted that, he’d have told me.’ I frown. ‘Have you never wanted children?’

‘God no. No. Complicated business, isn’t it? Never met anyone, and anyway, even if I had… The whole thing’s screwed, the inheritance bollocks. I’d hate for my great-grandchildren to be all, “We could have had a title. That bastard.”’ He laughs.

In the morning, as we eat breakfast in the kitchen, he says, ‘You should move in here.’

I choke on my toast. ‘What?’

He pours more coffee. ‘Move in. Here. Live with me.’

‘You’re properly mental. Oh my God.’

‘Why?’

‘What d’you mean, why? Jesus. You don’t have sex with someone once’ – I hold up my hand – ‘okay, twice – or whatever – and then move in with them.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it would be ridiculous. Anyway, you’ve never done that before. Asked someone to move in.’

‘No, but that’s no reason not to, is it? I think it would be good if you lived here. In fact, I think we should get married.’ He grins at me.

‘You flipping what?’

He laughs. ‘I don’t expect you to agree with me about that.’

‘No, well, I can’t anyway, can I? Even if I thought that was a good idea, instead of thinking you were… unbalanced. I’m married to someone else.’

‘Yes, but you’ll be divorced, won’t you, in a bit. So you can move in straight away, and then we’ll get married later.’

I shake my head at him.

‘Why not? It’s easier, isn’t it? I mean what’s the point of driving backwards and forwards? I’d like it if you lived here.’

‘You barely know me.’ I frown. It’s more tempting than I’m going to admit.

‘That’s not true, is it? We’ve been working together for six months. I’ve never met anyone I’ve liked even half as much. And I know we’ve only just started sleeping together, but I’m planning for it to be a long-term thing.’

‘Are you?’

‘Aren’t you?’

I look at him, and then look away. ‘Well, I’m not planning for it not to be,’ I admit, grudgingly.

We open the shop. It’s quite odd to be there doing ordinary shop things. I expect everyone knows he fired me, so there’ll be questions when people see me in here. I guess I’ll just have to suck it up. Strangely, the idea is

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