Page 128 of Kiss Me Like You Mean It

‘I can’t stay, Phoebe. I have to go back to London because of Gran and my job.’

Her face falls, and even though I told myself I’d been braced for tears or shouting, seeing her look unhappy is an absolute killer. Oh god, is this what it’s like being Nico? No wonder he’s so terrified of hurting her. I feel like a monster.

‘But I’m going to call all the time and come and visit as much as possible,’ I press on, my mouth dry. ‘I hope you’ll come to London, too, in the holidays and stay with me.’

‘With you and Gran?’ Phoebe looks up.

I swallow. ‘Yes. At our house.’

‘Will she bake me cookies? Will she make a den for me? Will we have tea at the Ritz?’ Her words fall over themselves, and I should be happy that she’s excited, but this line of questions presses on another tender part of my heart.

‘I’m sure she’ll be happy to do all of those things,’ Nico breaks in, and under the table his hand is on my knee, his leg pressed against mine. We’re in this together.

‘The most important thing,’ he continues, ‘is that you know we’re here for you. If you have any questions. If you’re worried. If you need to talk about anything, you can talk to us.’

Phoebe’s lashes flicker as she glances at me. ‘We can talk?’ she asks. ‘Even when you’re not here?’

The lump in my throat is back, but I force a bright smile. ‘I’m going to insist on it,’ I reply. ‘I want to hear all your news, and you know your dad can’t be relied upon to keep me up to date on town gossip.’

She cracks a small smile. ‘Yeah. That’s true. Okay.’ She shakes off the entire conversation as only an eight-year-old can. ‘Can we go to ballet now?’

‘So that went well, right?’ I ask Nico later as I finish cleaning my face in the bathroom. ‘She seemed fine? She definitely had a good time at ballet so I guess she wasn’t totally traumatised.’

I come back through the door and find he’s stretched out on the bed, in his jeans and the fisherman-fantasy jumper, one hand behind his head on the pillow. He looks tired, and I know he’s working hard to get the final touches in place at the inn – he’d gone back when I took Phoebe to ballet and stayed until late.

‘It went well,’ he agrees, looking up as I stand beside him. ‘I mean apart from the part where my daughter revealed she’s playing 3D chess with my love life. Not sure what the correct parental response is to that.’

I try not to smile. ‘At least she’s using her powers for good.’

He reaches out, his hand brushing under the hem of my pyjama top, stroking along my hip. It’s an affectionate touch, a touching-me-just-because-he-can touch, and it still makes my whole body go haywire.

‘Uh oh,’ he laughs. ‘Horny eyes.’

‘I do not have horny eyes!’

I definitely do, but it is impolite of him to comment on them.

Taking my hand, he tumbles me down into his lap and presses a line of soft kisses along my neck. ‘You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen,’ he murmurs against my skin. ‘I want to take photographs of your eyelashes.’

I shiver into his touch. ‘Of my eyelashes?’

He draws back for a moment, and now I know what he meant by horny eyes. ‘Of all of you.’

‘Okay,’ I manage eloquently.

We’re interrupted by the shrill ring of my phone and I squirm on Nico’s lap to reach for it on my side of the bed. He lets out a pained hiss.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ I mutter. ‘I have to check.’

It might be Gran, I don’t say, but he knows what I mean.

I look at the phone screen. ‘Oh.’

‘Oh?’ Nico lifts a brow, tugs my wrist so that he can see. ‘Adrian,’ he reads the name.

‘I don’t know why he’s calling,’ I say, flustered. ‘I’ll just…’ I go to decline the call, but Nico stills the movement.

‘Answer it,’ he says mildly.