“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “I’m so close.”
“I know,” he said, breathing deeply. He reached down to remove a clump of hair from her eye. “You know I love you, don’t you?”
“Yes. Of course I do.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Always. I’ll always trust you.”
“’Cause I was wondering, maybe when your divorce comes through, we could…”
Flipp yelped and tried to wriggle her way around to face him, succeeding only in spearing herself deeper on Rocky’s prick.
“You can’t propose to me in the middle of fucking me doggy-style,” she objected, giggling hysterically. “What’d we say when the grandchildren asked us?”
“I know. I’m sorry. I think you’ve driven me a bit mad. I just need to know that you’ll be mine. A guarantee.”
“You’re insecure.”
“I couldn’t bear to lose this.”
“Neither could I. You need to trust me too, Rocky. I feel the same way you do. Unless you turn into a monster, I always will. Okay?”
He smiled his crooked smile, bent down to kiss her cheek.
“Okay. I’ll stop being inappropriately romantic now. And fill you up. Watch out, babe, here it comes.”
Flipp was still laughing when she came, storming into a hiccuppy, giggly, howling tornado while Rocky poured himself into her with all his might—which was considerable.
“So why are you so insecure?” she asked afterwards as they lay spent on the bed, contemplating room service. “I thought you must know how much I love you. But you still have doubts?”
“I doubt myself more than I doubt you, really. I’ve spent all my life hating myself. Thinking I didn’t deserve anything good, that the life I had working for Cordwainer was going to be it. Never thought I’d have a, you know, proper relationship that wasn’t just a shag and a promise. Having something good in my life is new. To tell the truth, it’s a bit worrying. I’ve never had something I cared about keeping before. Well, apart from the bike.” He chuckled, as if embarrassed at this unburdening.
“It’s easier not to care, in a way,” Flipp whispered, kissing the underside of his neck. “I get that. Unhappiness can be addictive. Hard habit to break. I thought Rhodes was my saviour for so long—because of the way he warped my mind, it never occurred to me that I could do better, find real love. It was easy to let him manipulate me. Didn’t require any thought, any strength. But we’ve found our real strength now, Rocky. Now we’ve got it, we can’t let it go. Can we?”
“No.”
Flipp put her hand over his where it lay on her stomach and looked up at the discolourations on the ceiling. This was how their lives looked now—blank, endless, stained, but not disastrously so. Now they finally had what they deserved.
From her spot on the crowded beach, Michelle took one last look at the Fairhaven. Huge For Sale boards hung over the windows of the promenade bar, though the place hadn’t closed—some kind of temporary manager seemed to be installed. She doubted it was at Cordwainer’s instructions—he still hung on by a thread in Goldsands General, according to Jeremy—but all the same she felt too frightened to enter the building and reclaim her belongings.
She turned a slow 360 degrees on her beach sandals, taking in for the last time the perfect confluence of blue skies and sparkling sea and golden sand. The season was in full swing now and yacht sails dotted the horizon, a backdrop for the nearer inflatables and pedaloes. From the rickety-rackety pier, thin screams from the Dive of Doom carried through the warm air. Caesar’s Palace was boarded up, pending auction. Small children dripping ice cream from cones wove past her. Sand castles were everywhere, along with windbreaks and shouty, slightly drunken parents.
Michelle raised her eyes to the distant chalky cliffs. That was where she was headed. Onwards and upwards. Out of here.
She pushed back her shoulders and made the effortful trudge through the hot sands until she reached the steps to the Esplanade. Her eye-rolling cab driver, parked on double yellow lines, gestured impatiently, and she jumped back in.
“All right?” he asked brusquely. “Can we get going now?”
“Yes. Take me to the railway station, please.”
“Right you are. Where you going? Anywhere nice?”
“I don’t know really.”
The cab driver narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Perhaps he thought she was another runner. They were common enough, especially around the station, where they could slip so easily into the surrounding maze of crumbling terraces, all one-way streets.
“So what you going to do when you come to buy your ticket, then?”