Page 89 of In the Frame

“Not at all.”

Florian smiles again. “Well, see how you feel after the opera.”

I nod, conceding. “God, I’m full.”

“We have cheesecake, I’m afraid. And pie.”

“How do you know I love pie so much?”

“Call it observation,” he says smoothly, amused.

When I can’t eat any more, we go for a slow walk around the lake, hand in hand. We watch ducks and swans glide across the water. We people-watch. With Florian right now, everything feels incredible. Like we continue on in a dream at the end of summer, when lazy, high clouds drift overhead, and anything feels possible. At least for a few hours.

And when we return to our picnic, we have some more champagne, and Florian feeds me a strawberry, which I suck from his fingers ’til he shivers.

Then we return for the final act of the opera, and I’m a wreck again when the police officer has previously arranged for the painter’s execution by firing squad prior to his death, despite the police’s promises to Tosca to save the painter. Devastated, Tosca commits suicide by throwing herself off the castle ramparts. And I’m in a flood of tears again by the end.

Florian kisses me, and I melt into his arms for a long moment, savoring him. “What did you think? Puccini is wonderful, don’t you think?”

“Amazing. Thanks, Florian. This has been an amazing night. I’m sorry for being such a wreck earlier. Still.”

“Don’t apologize.” Florian kisses me again. He leans his forehead against mine. “I know it’s complicated. But know that I love you.”

A full-body shudder ripples through me, something I can’t control. “I love you too. And I want you so much.”

The smile he gives me, his face open, eyes hopeful, this is the Florian I adore. The private Florian he reveals to me. Not the standoffish go-getter, which is part of him too. But when he reveals his heart, it’s everything. I grasp his face between my hands and kiss him like my life depends on it. I’m more relaxed from the earlier champagne, but I’m drunk on Florian. All I want is him.

We return to our picnic spot to finish our champagne and strawberries as the sun sets over Glyndebourne. And much later, we’re together in the guest room with its bigger bed at my parents’ place. This time, I leave behind any hang-ups about having sex in my parents’ house. During the night, after we fall asleep for a while in each other’s arms, we wake and make love slowly until the sun rises. Florian’s sworn an oath to silence, no matter what I do to him. And I push his limit ’til he’s ragged and lost, breathing hard against my neck, gasping my name. I’m lost in his arms as Florian moves with me, languid, so I can prove to him how much I need him too, how special he is to me. And how much we need each other.

Until I eventually fall asleep on his chest, comforted.

Chapter Forty-Nine

When I wake up again, it’s late morning, judging by the way the sunlight filters through the window. Then, I slowly realize I’m curled against Florian. In my house. In Glynde. Holy shit. Talk about unlikely. Judging by his even breaths, he sleeps on. And what’s also highly unusual is that the house is silent. No twins running rampant all over the place. No lawn mowing. Suspicious.

I slip out of bed and find my boxers discarded at the foot of the bed. We did our best to try not to make a mess of our tuxedos, draped over the chair in the corner of the room. I pad down the hall to my room for a T-shirt.

Still no signs of anyone, not even when I reach downstairs. When I glance out of the window, the van’s gone. Florian parked on the street last night so as not to block anyone in case they needed to leave. On the kitchen counter, I discover a note from my mum.

Good morning, Sleepy,

I’ve taken the girls to Brighton for shopping today. Dad’s at work. We’ll be back late afternoon.

Mum

I redden. I sure hope Mum didn’t hear us last night, though when we got in, the house was quiet. Mum’s usually the earliest riser. It used to be the twins when they were younger, but now they’ve settled a bit more. Which means Mum gets some peace in the morning before the full daily chaos is unleashed.

Turning my attention to tea, I make mugs for Florian and me, surprising him in bed. He’s stirring and sits up when I walk in. The familiar melancholy’s creeping in. It was easy to make believe yesterday, a time-out from reality. But today’s a world away from fake.

“Good morning.” I offer him one and sit on the edge of the bed. “Everyone’s gone out.” Florian brought in his overnight bag last night, so at least he has some non-tuxedo options today. I chew my lip, pensive. But I give him a tentative smile. “Thanks again.”

Florian smiles, sleep-creased and rumpled. He squeezes my free hand with his before turning his attention to the tea. “Thank you.”

We sit with our tea for a couple of minutes in the quiet. Neither one of us wants to break the spell. The sunlight catches his dark eyelashes.

“I wish we could live in yesterday,” I tell him quietly. “It would be easier if we just lived in a single day.”

He gives a wry smile. “If that means we were together, I would do it in a heartbeat.”