Page 114 of Short Stack 3

“All the world is a stage to you.”

“I think Shakespeare said that better.”

He snorts and gazes up at the ceiling. “I was actually thinking that I never had much time for families before.”

“I can’t say I blame you. I feel the same way. France isn’t far enough sometimes.”

He tears his attention away from the ceiling beams and looks at me. “The Artic tundra would be too near your family.”

“So, you’re not one for family?Shocker.”

“I said I used to be like that. You should really pay more attention to me, Laurie. It would improve your brain.”

“It would actually give me acute anxiety, but go ahead.”

“I could never see the point of family, but then I realised that we shape the family we want, and you are that to me, Laurie. My family, my future, my best friend, and my confidant.” He pauses. “All wrapped up in the most aggravating man I have ever known.”

I look up at him. “You’re my family too,” I say softly. “I never thought my life was missing anything until you turned up. I can’t imagine what I’d do without you.”

For once, we don’t exchange sarcastic remarks. Instead, we look into each other’s eyes. It’s almost unbearably intimate because, in his gaze, I see the same as what’s in my heart — a deep and boundless love and gratitude that the universe decided to ignore our resolutely single states and throw into our paths the one person who could make us happy.

By mutual consent, we look away and settle back into each other’s arms, but the feeling remains like the glowing embers of a constantly tended fire. I know it always will.