Page 15 of Ever After

“I think I’m too pale to be successful at a sun holiday. Besides, I like this time of year. It’s more me and you, somehow. I met you around this time.”

His smile is impossibly warm. “Best day of my life.”

I reach out and tap his wedding ring. “You have to say that now.”

“True. Soon I’ll be telling you that your new parka suits you.”

“Levi,” I say, trying not to laugh. “I’m sure fibs were mentioned unfavourably in the marriage sacrament.”

“They weren’t,” he says cheerfully. “I checked for you.”

“What a wonderful husband you’re proving to be.”

Levi

I click the indicator and take the turn between two huge old stone gateposts guarded by gargoyles whose menacing expressions have been softened by age and moss. The drive is winding and lined by trees that cast shadows over Blue’s eager face. I don’t even bother to hide my smile. He’s hanging half out of the window like the rather hyperactive Labrador my aunt used to have when I was little.

“The drive leads to the house where we’ll collect the keys to the cottage,” I say. I know I’ve told him this before, but experience has taught me that plans sometimes exit his head before I’ve even finished speaking. “The cottage has been in the family’s hands for hundreds of years.”

“My possessions rarely used to last a day. Do you think we’re near the sea?” he asks, looking back at me.

I slow to go over a cattle grid. “Yeah, it should be ahead of us once we come out at the house. The village of Porthkrogour overlooks the sea.”

“I can’t wait. I’ve only seen the sea a couple of times before.”

“Why’s that?”

He throws me a wry look. “If you’re hitching, you don’t go off the path, Levi.”

“Very American Werewolf in London.”

“Is that a film?” He rarely gets film references, which isn’t surprising considering his childhood.

“Yes, babe.”

“I’ve never seen it. I have encountered zero werewolves in my life, but you never know. Anyway, cities are better. You can get lost in a city because no one notices you. You’d never manage that in Cornwall.” He shakes his head. “Odd,” he pronounces with that slightly dubious tone he adopts for anywhere we visit that’s five miles off the motorway. It never fails to make me smile.

“Well, I think you’ll like Porthkrogour.”

He drops back into his seat. “How old were you when you came here with your mum?”

I scratch my head. The sun playing through the trees is low and giving me a headache. The next second his long fingers come down onto my neck and massage it.

“God, that’s nice,” I say. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do after you did all the driving, but I’ll throw in a blowjob when we get to the cottage too.” He tugs on my hair. “Completely free.”

“Oh, what a lucky man am I. You’re such a giver.”

“I prefer taker.” He nudges me. “Holiday?” he prompts.

“Erm, I think we came when I was seven or eight. I loved it. It’s just a small village with a pretty cove, and there wasn’t much here apart from houses and a few shops, but it was still the best holiday I ever had.” I shoot him a smile. “Until now.” My smile fades. “Do you think it’s odd to drag you somewhere on honeymoon that reminds me of my mum?”

“Levi, my baseline for odd is murderous ghosts and mouthy serial killers.”

My mouth twitches. “Ah, I feel so much better.”

“Of course, it’s not odd. I want to see the place you’ve talked about.” He shrugs. “Anyway, wherever you are is the best fun. I don’t need anyone or anything else.”