Page 77 of A Dark Fall

“Mmm, I do. She’s so happy there though, so I don’t think she’ll ever come back. Which I don’t blame her for at all—I’d go in a heartbeat. My parents would be devastated though. And I’d never want to leave Nick.”

“You’d leave the UK? Move there?”

I sigh longingly. “California is another world. The weather, the lifestyle. It makes everything here seem tiny and boxed in. Wet too.” I laugh. “I think about the life my children would have over there, and I’d really want that for them, you know?”

“So, you want children then?” he asks.

My eyes fly open. God. Did I seriously mention having children on a second date? Panic peels over me. I try to keep my voice distinctly non-nutcase-like as I answer.

“I meant more generally. That if I do, when I do, the idea of raising children somewhere like California really appeals to me.” I shrug, hoping it comes off as nonchalant.

“Does your sister have kids?”

I shake my head and sit up so I can see him. Tash and Brad have been trying for a while now, and though I know she isn’t too fussed about when it happens, I know he’s definitely more impatient about it all. “Not yet. I’m hoping for a niece or nephew soon though.” It makes me giddy thinking about it.

He’s looking at me now, eyes narrowed in study.

“What?”

“I guess I’m surprised at you wanting a different life from the one you have now,” he says, sounding genuinely bemused. “Your life here seems pretty fucking good to me. Respectable job, nice house, a family who love you.”

Something like guilt stings me. Considering his shitty start, I’ve had a perfect life here, and in loads of aspects, I do. Of course, to him, it makes no sense to move it thousands of miles away.

“I do have a good life. I’m really lucky, I know that. But I feel like ... I don’t know ... as though something’s missing in it, you know? I’ve always felt as if I should be living a different life somewhere else. As if I’m missing out on something.” I look away from him as I say this because I sound spoiled and ungrateful, and I’m failing to properly explain what I mean.

Though his gaze is heavy, pulling my eyes back to his, his expression is soft. “I know exactly what you mean,” he says, nibbling on the inside of his cheek. “I’ve always felt a bit like that myself, as if I’m living someone else’s life or something. Guess I’m surprised at you feeling that way too.”

I frown. “Why?”

He thinks about this. Shrugs. “I don’t know ... I guess because you’re sorta perfect.” His mouth is soft with the hint of a smile. I wait for him to laugh at his own line, but he doesn’t.

I can only frown harder. “I’m not perfect, Jake.”

“Yeah, well, to me you are,” he says almost dismissively before leaning over to kiss my open mouth. The kiss is chaste but deep at the same time, a steady build that turns my insides molten and soft. He finishes by sucking gently on my bottom lip then pressing his lips to the tip of my nose.

As he pulls back from me and I drink in the sight, his kissed red lips and green, sparkling eyes, a weird, nihilistic thought enters my brain. If this doesn’t work out between us, how on earth do I ever get over him? How do I forget these quiet moments in which he makes me feel so utterly and completely alive? It’s a ridiculous thought. Negative and silly, and I feel a little ashamed by it. But it doesn’t change the fact it’s true.

After, Jake moves our bodies so I’m lying with my head on his chest as we look out on the London skyline. He strokes his hand lazily up and down my spine. The night is clear and dark, and the reflection of the stars and the city lights across the water is picturesque, almost romantic. It’s as amazing as I thought it’d be.

The feel of his steady, vital heartbeat through his chest is loud against my ear, but it’s so reassuring, so strong. I feel that same nihilistic thought I felt on the couch: I’ll never get over him. It’s made all the more ridiculous by the fact I barely know him. But do you need to know every single part of a person for them to have such a huge and lasting impact on your life? I’ve never believed it.

I remember a man I met in the Louvre once. I went alone one day while Rob lay nursing her hangover in the hotel. I met him in the Denon Wing beside a painting of Napoleon where he told me how he was a descendant of Napoleon through his sister. We only spent about twenty minutes in each other’s company, but I think about him now and then whenever I see an elderly man at the deli, or whenever an elderly male patient comes in to see me.

In any case, I don’t need to know everything about Jake to feel what I feel for him. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to though.

“What are you like when you’re not with me?” I ask, my voice sleepy. His stroking across my spine doesn’t waver or stop.

“Hmm?” He also sounds sleepy.

“You said before that you’re different when you’re with me. I keep wondering what you meant by that.”

I feel his body tense slightly. “Did you come to any conclusions?”

“Not really. I have one context for you, and it involves you being naked.” I laugh.

He’s covered with his light gray sheet, but I see the faint outline of his growing erection. My mouth waters slightly.

“Well, that’s me at my best, baby. What other context do you need?”