Cecelia Ahern - The Time of My Life

‘Uugh,’ I laughed, slapping him playfully. ‘Besides, I’ve no curtains.’

‘No,’ he said, looking at the curtain pole with amusement. ‘You haven’t much of a rug either.’

‘True,’ I smiled, and we laughed.

‘So,’ he said in a more serious tone, turning on to his side so that we were facing one another. ‘Tell me about life.’

I groaned. ‘This is very serious pillow talk.’

‘No, I don’t mean your life, I mean the guy who was in the apartment. Jesus, what do you think I am, interested in you?’

‘I should hope not,’ I laughed. ‘I was hoping you were just using me for my body.’

‘I am.’ He moved closer.

‘What do you know about this kind of thing?’

‘That Life contacts you and you have to meet them and make some changes. I read an interview with a woman in a magazine while I was at the dentist.’

‘Did she have an over-the-top blowdry and was standing beside a vase full of lemons and limes?’

He laughed. ‘I can’t remember the details. But she was happy afterwards, that’s what I remember.’ He studied me and I waited for him to ask me if I was unhappy the way everybody else did, but he didn’t, probably because I’d tensed up and was as stiff as an ironing board beside him. ‘I’ve never met anyone who’s actually met with their lives before. You’re the first.’

‘How proud I feel.’

‘Well, whatever about pride, you shouldn’t be embarrassed.’

I went quiet.

‘Are you embarrassed?’

‘Tell me a fart joke or something. This subject is too serious.’

‘I’ll go one better than that.’ I felt him move beside me, then a disgusting smell.

I couldn’t help but giggle. ‘Thank you.’

‘Anything for you.’ He kissed my forehead.

‘That’s very thoughtful of you. We’re practically married now.’

‘Nah, if we were married, I’d have wafted it.’

It was disgusting but I laughed, loved the closeness and the level of comfort with him, but I was worried. It had been a long time since I’d bedded a stunning man. It had been a long time since I’d slept with any man – a stockbroker who liked my tits ten months ago, but a longer time since a man like him who I’d truly felt at home with – and never had I brought a man back to my flat. Don had seen my world, he had entered my bubble that I’d created for nobody else but myself and though I’d enjoyed every second of it and hadn’t thought of Blake once, now as he was looking at me with the eyes that I felt belonged more on my phone screen saver and less in my bed, all I wanted was for him to leave. I thought I’d made a mistake. The adrenaline I’d felt when I’d discovered my true feelings for Blake mere hours earlier had returned. I was thinking of Jenna, Jenna the slut from Australia, and wondering if they lay like this together, naked and contorted, and it made my heart twist.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked cautiously.

‘Yeah.’ I snapped out of it. I suddenly wanted to be alone again but it was dark, it was ten o’clock on a Sunday night, I wasn’t sure if he intended on staying over or if he was going to leap out of bed any second thanking me for my time.

‘Didn’t you say that you were late for an appointment earlier?’ I asked.

‘No, it’s okay, it’s not important now.’

‘I won’t take it personally,’ I said, perking up. ‘If there’s somewhere you have to be then please feel free to leave.’

‘I was supposed to have dinner with my parents but really you’ve done me a favour. Sex with a stranger is far more important.’

I tried to figure out another way to make him leave; wanting them to stay was usually enough.

‘What were you thinking about a few minutes ago?’

‘When?’

‘You know when.’

I didn’t say anything.

‘It’s just that, I lost you,’ he said tenderly, stroking my hair in a hypnotically relaxing rhythm. I battled to keep my eyes open. ‘You were right there, and then you were gone.’ He was speaking so gently, so melodically, that I was present again. He moved closer and kissed me.

‘Ah. There you are,’ he murmured, then kissed me more intensely.

And despite my inner emotional protestations and despite feeling torn inside about my love for Blake, my body couldn’t help but respond to him and I got lost all over again.

He didn’t snore. He slept so silently I barely knew he was there. His skin was warm, not blazing hot like Blake’s. He kept to his side of the bed, not a foot or a knee or an arm across the line. His skin smelled of marshmallows, tasted salty from sweat. And despite the fact that I lay there planning what to bring in my half-packed suitcase beside our strewn clothes on the floor, and working out what I would do and say when I met Blake, I reached out to the warm sheets and felt for his hand. The silent sweet-smelling sleeper opened his closed palm and wrapped it around mine. We held hands and I slept. Then Life came knocking, or in my case, let himself into my flat with his own set of keys.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I was woken by the clatter of keys on the kitchen counter. Don jumped beside me, startled, probably disoriented, and immediately sat up in bed, ready to defend.

‘It’s okay,’ I said groggily. ‘It’s just him.’

‘Who?’ he said, alarmed, as though there were a secret love I hadn’t told him about, which technically there was but that certain secret love would not be bursting into my flat with his own set of keys and singing ‘Earthsong’ by Michael Jackson.

‘My life,’ I said, trying to speak with my mouth closed to avoid travelling morning breath. I offered him an apologetic smile. For my life interrupting him, not for my breath.

‘At six a.m.?’ He looked at his watch.

‘He’s a twenty-four-seven kind of man.’

‘Right.’ He smiled. ‘Of course. Will he approve of this?’

Life had suddenly stopped singing and the rustles of plastic bags had stopped.

‘Do I hear talking?’ Life asked in a sing-song voice. ‘Do I hear the voice of a man in little Lucy’s bed?’

I rolled my eyes and ducked under the covers. Don chuckled and protected his modesty by pulling the sheet to above his waist.

‘Oh, Loo-ceee,’ my life sang, his voice getting louder as he got closer. ‘Have you been a naughty girl? Hey, it’s you,’ Life said, standing at the end of my bed. ‘Yes!’

I had to laugh as Life whooped with delight.

‘I take it you approve,’ Don said.

‘Approve? Of course I do. Does this mean she doesn’t have to pay for the carpets because if so, your plan worked, Lucy. You should have seen what she did to the window cleaner.’

I crawled up to the surface. ‘I didn’t sleep with him to pay for the carpets,’ I said, insulted, then turned to Don. ‘Though that would be a really lovely gesture, thank you so much, Don.’

Don laughed. Life sat at the edge of the bed. I kicked him off and he wandered away without a fight and then made his way back with a tray, which he placed on Don’s lap. ‘I didn’t know if you liked marmalade or jam or honey so I brought all three.’

‘What about me?’

‘Make your own.’

Don chuckled. ‘This is great. Do you do this for all of Lucy’s men?’

Life lay down on the end of the bed. ‘Don, there isn’t enough bread in the world for me to feed Lucy’s lovers.’

Don laughed.

‘This doesn’t bother you? Having him around?’ I asked, surprised.

‘He’s a part of you, isn’t he?’ Don responded, then handed me half of his toast.