‘Are you used to it?’
‘I don’t know. I was. It’s been a while.’
‘Seems like riding a bicycle for you.’
‘Much, much better than riding a bloody bicycle.’
He leaned over and gave me a coffee-flavoured kiss.
I could still feel where he had been the night before and it made sitting in certain positions deliciously uncomfortable.
I felt skinned, raw and tender, both physically and emotionally. He was my blind spot, my Achilles heel, and there was no escaping it. I loved him more than I’d ever done.
‘Joss,’ I said, my heart skittering madly.
‘Mm hmm?’
‘Christmas is a long way away. Don’t you think we could … bring the plan forward?’
‘Plan?’ He didn’t seem to know what I was talking about.
‘You know. You and me at one of your big man’s kinky weekends.’
‘Christ.’ He blinked for a while and then laughed. ‘Lucy. Do you know? I haven’t thought of that since we arrived here. In fact, I’ve thought of it less and less over the last few weeks.’
I smiled, tore off a piece of croissant and popped it into his mouth.
‘Are you saying you’ve had other things on your mind?’
He nodded, chewing then swallowing the croissant.
‘I’ll admit, when I first approached you, the Hall was uppermost in my mind. Though the idea of getting you back in my life ran a very close second. But now … ah. I don’t know. I was a bit obsessed, really. Making myself ill. I think you’re saving me.’
‘From yourself.’ I took some orange juice. ‘But don’t say that. I’m not saving anyone. I’m not doing anything I don’t want to. We need to talk about the Hall, though.’
‘I still think Christmas …’ he said.
‘Well, I don’t. I think I’m ready for this. I could do it.’
Joss looked away and sighed.
‘I don’t want this to end,’ he said quietly.
‘What?’
‘If you file your story and everything goes to plan, then …’
‘Listen, Joss.’ I put my hand to his neck, making him turn back to me. ‘I’m not going to file a story. I don’t think that’s a good plan. I never really did.’
‘What? Then why …?’
‘I’m doing this because of you. I think you know that. I think you always did. Yes, my career could do with a boost, but if we play this carefully, we could all get what we want without the nastiness of a sex exposé.’
‘Really?’
‘When you met me and pitched that idea, Joss, it showed me how desperate you were. That was what reeled me in. Not the thought of journalistic glory or claiming a high-profile scalp. You, and your alcohol-soaked delusions.’
‘Thanks. OK. I know.’