The Minute I Saw You

by Paige Toon

  I nod. ‘Evelyn believes it’s because Anna and I promised each other that we’d never get married, that we’d only ever depend on each other and never be separated. She thinks that I still hold firm to that vow. A small part of me does, but mostly it’s because I know that three would be a crowd. And if it comes to choosing between a man and choosing Anna, I choose Anna. No man could ever stop me from speaking to her.’

  ‘No man who loves you would ever try.’

  My eyes fill with tears.

  ‘Hannah,’ Sonny whispers in an anguished voice, folding me in his arms and bringing me close. ‘Do you know how much I care about you?’

  ‘Not really,’ I mumble. ‘But I care about you too.’

  He holds me tight and eventually our breathing slows us to sleep.

  Chapter 39

  That night I dream of Anna, as I often do. She’s reading aloud to me and I’m brushing her hair.

  Then Colleen is there and Anna wants to go to her and I want to stay away. We’re one being, pulling and tugging. I’m stronger, but she is my weakness. I go because she cries, but I don’t want to. I feel like a ghost; vacant and empty as I let her lead the way.

  I’m sulky on the sofa. Anna is doing the talking and Colleen is eager to listen. She keeps trying to prompt me to open up, but my jaw is clamped shut.

  Anna wants to go across the room to get a book. I want to stay where I am. She tugs at me, pulls from me, raises her voice with frustration at me, so I contemplate doing as she bids.

  But then she tugs one last time and tears herself from me. The shock on her face and the shock I feel is so severe that I scream.

  ‘Hey, hey!’ Sonny soothes, gathering me in his arms.

  A cold flush has come over me and for a moment, I’m disorientated.

  ‘You were calling her name,’ Sonny whispers.

  I hug him tighter, knowing it’s probably dawning on him now that it was her name I called out in Amsterdam, not my own.

  *

  He makes me breakfast again while I get ready for work. The last two nights he’s slept in a T-shirt and the one he’s wearing this morning is crumpled and white. It looks like an old favourite.

  I walk up to him from behind as he stands over the Aga and press a kiss to his back, right between his shoulder blades. The fabric of his T-shirt is soft and worn.

  He spins around.

  ‘I like seeing you in this kitchen,’ I whisper, breathing him in as he pulls me into his arms. His aftershave ran out ages ago and he still hasn’t replaced it, but I’ve come to appreciate the everyday smell of him: the grapefruit shower gel he uses, his deodorant, his warm bare skin.

  ‘Did you just sniff my neck again?’ he asks with amusement.

  ‘Might’ve done,’ I mumble, pushing my body firmly against his.

  ‘Er,’ he mutters, and before he edges me away, I feel him harden, an involuntary kick against my stomach.

  Desire bolts through me.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ he says under his breath, adjusting his chinos as he turns back to the hob.

  I have an overwhelming urge to touch him. It’s so powerful that I’m shaking a little.

  He finishes flipping the eggs and glances over his shoulder at me, his face gratifyingly flushed.

  ‘You all right?’ he asks in a low deep voice that turns my insides molten.

  ‘Um . . .’ I waver. ‘Not entirely.’

  He looks apprehensive.

  ‘I am enormously sexually frustrated,’ I admit.

  ‘You are not helping me,’ he chides, trying to keep things light.

  ‘Are you seriously going to last six months?’ I ask.

  ‘I was originally thinking a whole year,’ he reminds me as the muffins in the toaster pop up.

  ‘I think I would die.’ I start to butter them.

  He emits a small laugh and waits on hand with two fried eggs, using a spatula to slide them onto the muffins. Beneath his outwardly amused exterior I sense a certain amount of trepidation.

  I feel like the worst human.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say as I pull a chair out from underneath the table and sit down. ‘I’m being selfish.’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ he says as if to be kind, tucking into his breakfast. ‘Have you thought any more about what your plans are?’ he asks between mouthfuls. ‘After Australia?’

  He wants to know if I’m coming back. I’ve been thinking of going travelling – that was my plan – but the bug hasn’t caught me yet. I don’t know what I want to do or where I want to go. It occurs to me that my heart isn’t in it.

  ‘Not yet,’ I admit. ‘Why? Are you thinking of luring me back with sex?’ I raise an eyebrow.

  He freezes, his egg muffin halfway to his mouth. ‘Would that work?’ he asks, again in that low deep voice, his eyes dark and full of meaning.

  ‘Mmmhmm,’ I manage to say because my mind has conjured up an image of us doing it right here and now on the kitchen table and that’s taken up most of my mental headspace.

  He chuckles and devours the last of his breakfast and I want to attack his sexy mouth, suck his bottom lip and slip my tongue inside—

  ‘You’re thinking dirty thoughts about me, aren’t you?’

  ‘Do you have to sound so smug about it?’ I reply in a small breathless voice.

  ‘If you knew what was going through my mind half the time, you’d be the one feeling smug. Eat your breakfast.’

  ‘Bossy,’ I mutter, goosebumps shivering into place all over my body.

  He leans back in his chair, his eyes watchful as I bite, chew and swallow.

  I glower at him. ‘Stop looking at me like that.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like you’re still hungry.’

  He laughs. ‘Anything I say at this point is going to sound like a bad chat-up line, so I’ll quit while I’m ahead.’

  He gets up and clears our plates, taking them to the sink.

  ‘I think I’ll come back after Australia,’ I say.

  He spins around and stares at me. ‘Really?’

  I nod.

  His face breaks out into the biggest, loveliest grin and the next thing I know I’m being hauled to my feet and engulfed in his arms.

  I want to soak up this feeling forever.

  He pulls away and looks at me, his eyes sparkling, and then he kisses me, right on the mouth. Just once. And all of the hairs on my body stand on end.

  ‘How much longer . . .’ I’m struggling to inhale.

  ‘It’s supposed to be November.’ He knows exactly what I’m talking about. ‘But I’ll cut it short if you come back after Australia.’

  ‘You will?’

  He nods.

  ‘That’s still a couple of months away,’ I realise.

  ‘Call it foreplay,’ he says with a cocky grin.

  I let my head fall against his shoulder and bang it against him a few times.

  His chest shakes as he lets out a silent laugh. He moves his hands to my hips, his thumb tracing a line across my left hip.

  I lift my head to look at him, and now it’s me who’s full of trepidation.

  ‘I’m going to want you naked,’ he whispers.

  A tremor goes through me.

  ‘If we’re doing this, I don’t want anything between us,’ he says seriously. ‘No barriers.’

  I begin to shake my head, but his hands come up to still my face.

  ‘It’s all going to be new for me too,’ he reminds me. ‘I haven’t connected with anyone else before, not like this. You know me. You know what I’ve been through. That’s terrifying to me. At the same time, I believe it could be beautiful. I’m going to stop there because I’m sounding like a wanker.’

  I giggle and he smiles.

  ‘On the contrary, you’re being very persuasive,’ I tell him.

  But I know what he means. I’m scared too.

  *

  ‘When you got your test, was it only STDs that you were concerned about?’ I ask as he walks me to
work.

  Last night’s starry sky has been enveloped by thick grey clouds, the sort that make you feel as though you won’t see the sun for weeks.

  ‘You want to know if I did drugs? Yeah,’ he replies heavily, confirming my suspicions. ‘I never used needles, if that’s what you’re thinking, but I sometimes wonder if I was headed that way.’ He swallows. ‘Scott overdosed on heroin.’

  ‘Oh, shit.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He looks troubled. ‘He was very fucked up at the end.’

  ‘Do you know what led him down that path?’

  He clears his throat, hesitating before speaking. ‘We never spoke about it properly, but once, when he was high, he implied that something had happened to him when he was a kid. I think he might’ve been abused.’

  I breathe in sharply.

  ‘I’ll never forgive myself for not trying harder with him,’ he continues, sounding wretched. ‘I wish I’d had the guts to talk about what had happened to me. It might’ve helped.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  No wonder he fell into such a dark hole after Scott died. He said he could see himself in his friend, but I understand now that there was so much more to it.

  I reach over and take his hand, wishing I could absorb some of the burden he’s carrying.

  Remembering Charles’s advice about friends, I realise that I already am, just by being here.

  Still, I wish I could absorb more.

  ‘Do you think I should confide in Archie and Matilda?’ he asks out of the blue.

  ‘I do.’ I try to keep my voice sounding neutral. ‘But what do you think?’

  ‘I’m considering it,’ he replies. ‘I’ll get this session out of the way with Harriet and Evelyn first though.’

  ‘How are you feeling about it?’

  He shudders. ‘Awful. Harriet called me yesterday when I was on my way to the shelter. Wants me to tell Mum and Dad – and Jackie. They keep asking her what’s wrong because she’s been in such a state over it. They think she’s going through marital problems or having some sort of breakdown. She wants to tell them the truth so they stop worrying about her.’

  ‘And worry about you instead,’ I say.

  ‘Exactly. I’m not sure I’m ready to handle that . . . Their anxiety . . . Their guilt . . . It’s going to be a total head-fuck.’

  I squeeze his hand and he squeezes mine back.

  We walk the rest of the way in silence.

  *

  ‘What are you doing tonight?’ I ask when we arrive at Umeko and Robert’s.

  ‘I’ve got the girls,’ he replies, scuffing his shoe on the pavement. ‘Thought I’d take them to Wagamama in town.’ He lifts his gaze from the ground. ‘Would you like to join us?’

  ‘Do you think they’d be okay with that?’

  ‘Yes, they like you.’

  ‘Won’t they want their dad to themselves?’

  ‘I really don’t think they’d mind one way or the other. Anyway, they see enough of me on my own.’

  ‘Okay, then.’

  ‘Yeah?’ He smiles, seeming cheered. ‘Pick you up at six?’

  ‘Sounds great.’ That’ll give me enough time to take Bertie home and get changed.

  ‘See you later, then.’ He raises his hand to cup the back of my head as he did yesterday, but this time I turn my face towards him so his lips brush the corner of mine.

  He withdraws to stare at me. He’s mere inches away. He closes the gap between us, pressing a soft, lingering kiss on my mouth.

  My breath catches, my lips inadvertently parting.

  He growls and begins to retreat, but I lean into him and the next thing I know he’s pulling me in for a full, deep, toe-curlingly sexy kiss.

  Shivers are rippling up and down my body and I’m so turned on I could cry.

  Oh hell, he is too. When my hands pull him against me, he gasps into my mouth.

  Then Bertie whimpers and we jolt apart.

  As my giddiness subsides and our surroundings come back into focus, I remember we’re in broad daylight, standing right outside my uncle’s friend’s house, next door to my work.

  Talk about inappropriate.

  Bertie’s tail is bashing against our legs. Sonny is still standing close to me.

  ‘Right then,’ I try to sound breezy. ‘Guess I’d better get this little madam inside.’ I nod at the door.

  He shakes his head quickly, his expression strained. ‘Don’t press the doorbell yet.’

  I frown at him and his eyes dart downwards, his implication becoming clear. ‘I need a minute.’

  I lean against the wall and smirk at him.

  ‘All right, no need to be smug,’ he mutters, breathing in raggedly and keeping his back to the street in case anyone walks past.

  Knowing our luck, it’ll be Matilda.

  ‘Take my mind off it,’ he implores.

  ‘What are you doing today?’ I ask, pandering to him, because there’s a very real possibility of Robert coming downstairs and opening the door.

  ‘After I’ve been home to jerk myself off—’

  ‘What?!’ I interrupt, outraged. ‘How is that fair?’

  ‘Who said life was fair?’ he asks.

  ‘Are you still allowed to do that?’

  This is news.

  ‘I’m abstinent, not a saint,’ he replies, and now he’s the one looking self-satisfied and superior.

  I reach up and press the doorbell, intending to wipe the smirk off his face.

  ‘Hannah!’ he hisses, whitening as he hurriedly adjusts his crotch and backs away into the street. ‘You’re going to get me into so much trouble,’ he whispers loudly, shooting a look left and right before jogging across the road.

  I clutch my hand to my chest and laugh, trying to keep the sound in as I hear Robert come down the stairs.

  The next couple of months are going to be interesting.

  Chapter 40

  ‘Our mummy wants to know if you’re daddy’s girlfriend,’ Imogen tells me breathlessly as Sonny climbs back into the driver’s seat.

  ‘Does she?’

  ‘What’s this?’ Sonny asks offhandedly as he buckles his seat belt.

  ‘Rochelle wants to know if I’m your girlfriend,’ I tell him, my eyes widening expressively.

  ‘Is that right?’ He looks over his shoulder at his giggling daughters. ‘I’ll talk to Mum, all right?’ he promises, putting the car into gear and pulling out of the driveway.

  Later, when we’re safely ensconced at a bench table in Wagamama, the girls diligently working their way through the activity sheets given to them by a friendly waiter with brilliant blue hair, Sonny catches my eye across the table.

  ‘What are you thinking? Or is that not safe to ask in present company?’ he adds in a murmur that I can only just hear over the hubbub of the restaurant around us.

  ‘I’m wondering what you’re going to tell—’ I cut my eyes to the left where his daughters are sitting.

  Natalie is beside me. Imogen is across the table, next to Sonny. They’re both too busy competing with each other to find all the words in the word search to pay us any attention.

  ‘Hmm,’ he says, a half-smile gracing his lips, but his eyes serious. ‘I’ve been thinking about that too.’

  ‘And?’ I shift on my seat. ‘What will you say?’

  He stares at me for a couple of seconds before replying: ‘Yes?’

  It’s a question.

  Yes, I am his girlfriend?

  I like the sound of that.

  I nod.

  His smile grows.

  A plate of gyoza arrives at the table.

  All conversation stops.

  I go back to Sonny’s after we drop the girls home. I won’t stay because of Bertie, but I’ve been dying to see the photographs he showed Archie.

  He leads the way inside, switching on lights as he goes.

  The studio flat is not as tidy as it was the last time I came over. It looks more lived-in. There are a couple of dirty plates
still on the counter and the sofa is laid out in its bed position, the sheets looking rumpled and slept in and the pillow still featuring an indent from where Sonny’s head last lay. That must’ve been three days ago.

  ‘Haven’t been home much,’ he apologises, gathering the bedding together.

  ‘Don’t bother doing that,’ I say, presuming he’s going to return the bed to its sofa configuration. ‘You’ll be sleeping in it soon. Unless you’re coming back to mine again?’ I’d like him to.

  He gives me a rueful look. ‘Can’t tonight. I’m off to London early in the morning.’

  ‘Why are you going to London?’ I’m slightly unsettled that this is the first I’ve heard of it.

  Not that he has any obligation to tell me when he’s disappearing to different cities. Or even different countries, for that matter.

  Except that I am now his girlfriend. He said so.

  ‘I’ve got a meeting with a picture editor at a magazine,’ he explains.

  ‘Fashion magazine?’

  He nods.

  Urgh.

  ‘That face!’ he chides, grinning as he crosses the room to where I’m standing by the island. ‘You know you never have to worry about me, right?’ He dodges left so he’s in my line of sight. I look away so he moves his head again. ‘Those days are behind me,’ he promises.

  I allow him to hold eye contact.

  His smile fades. ‘I never felt good about anyone I slept with,’ he says soberly. ‘And I never felt good about myself. I’m so much happier these days.’ He places his hands on my hips. I close my hands over them.

  ‘What you said . . .’ His voice trails off and his brow creases. ‘I hate the idea of you feeling . . . I don’t know. Like I’d compare you or something.’

  ‘I wouldn’t blame you,’ I say with a grimace, removing his hands from my hips.

  He places one hand over my heart. ‘You are more beautiful to me than anyone else has ever been or ever will be. I need you to know that.’

  My heart thumps against his palm.

  ‘Anyway,’ he says with a roll of his eyes. ‘How do I know you won’t compare me to one of your no-strings-attached blokes. Giant Germans and all that.’

  I can’t help but laugh, but he’s finding his comment surprisingly unfunny.