Page 193 of Nick

“What the hell’s going on?” Dad makes his way over to the O’Connor huddle. “Oh, no!” he exclaims, smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand.

“Well done, Nick,” Jamie says, smiling. “In perfect O’Connor style, too. Never half-arsed, and always in public.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Martin says. “You have my respect, mate. Apparently there’s more to you than a pair of marble arse cheeks.”

“What would you know about his arse?” Jamie turns to him.

“Please, champ. Everyone knows about his arse.”

“Looks like someone’s been paying more attention than others, though,” Jamie shoots back.

Nick turns me towards him, away from the chaos we’ve created. He takes my hands and looks at me, his expression overjoyed. In his eyes, I can see everything: our world, our future, every chapter we’re about to write together. It’ll be a little crowded, with a few bumps along the way, but we’ll be happy. We’ll have everything we’ve ever needed.

We’ll haveus.

“That T-shirt suits you so well,” Nick says.

I lower my gaze and take another look at what’s written:

The coach’s wife.

“It’s perfect. Like you.”

“Please, no bullshit. I’m an idiot. You’re the perfect one here. I think you were sculpted in some sort of factory in the North Pole. Yeah, definitely. Anyone as dreamy as you would have to be a Christmas present.”

I burst into laughter, reaching onto my tiptoes.

“I might never take it off.”

“I think I could handle that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I’ll let you know later, when I’ve seen it from another position.”

“What position are we talking about here?”

Nick flashes me a cheeky smile.

“My favourite one.”

“Me on top?”

He shakes his head. “You inside me.”