“Jay.” I wince. “Let go. It’s just me. It’s Matilda.”
At hearing my name, something seems to jolt him. Instead of letting go of my hand, he pulls on it, though more gently now. He drags my body onto his bed, pulling the covers over us both and wrapping his arms and legs around me. I’m trapped, but I don’t mind.
“Matilda,” he whispers.
There’s something about the way he says it that makes me wonder if he’s awake, or still half dreaming. His arms are warm and comforting around me as he presses his lips to the back of my neck.
“Stay,” he murmurs.
I inhale the heady scent of him, feeling like I’ve been encapsulated in a bubble of Jay, and I probably couldn’t leave even if I wanted to. His breathing evens out after a while, and he’s sleeping deeply again. Only a short while later, I drift off, too.
The next time I wake up, I’m alone in the bed and it’s morning. I can hear the pan sizzling downstairs, the smell of bacon making my mouth water. Getting up, I pay a quick visit to the bathroom before going down to the kitchen.
“Morning sleepyhead,” says Jay with a smile as I sit down at the table and pour myself some juice.
“Morning,” I reply, not looking at him.
He comes over and slides some bacon onto my plate. “So,” he begins smugly, “you snuck into bed with me last night. That was a nice surprise.”
My heart thumps at his words. “What?”
“I woke up with a beautiful woman in my arms. Not a bad way to greet the day, especially considering I went to bed alone.” He winks.
“You don’t remember,” I say in realisation, inwardly purring at him calling me beautiful for the second time. I could get used to that.
He takes the chair opposite me and sits, his brow furrowing. “Don’t remember what, darlin’?”
“I woke up because I could hear you having a nightmare. It sounded bad, so I went into your room to try to calm you down. Then you pulled me onto your bed and wouldn’t let me go. Me being there seemed to help you sleep, so I stayed.”
He scratches his gorgeously sleep-ruffled hair. He seems embarrassed for the first time ever. “Ah, yeah. I have trouble sleeping sometimes. It’s a problem.”
“Do you have insomnia?”
“You could call it that. Basically, my brain won’t shut down enough for me to get a good night’s sleep. It goes on for weeks, and then I’ll conk out for an entire day from exhaustion. Then the cycle will start all over again.”
“That sounds awful. Have you tried medicating for it?”
“I’ve tried lots of stuff. None of it works 100 percent. If I take sleeping pills, they make me drowsy, but they don’t make me sleep. Basically, I’m awake but more tired than I would’ve been if I didn’t take the pills. I have a technique that works most of the time.”
“A technique?”
“Yeah, I pace, reciting lists in my head. All of the things I’ve achieved and all the things I plan to achieve. Listing them relaxes me enough to sleep most nights. The problem is, if I haven’t completed something, it niggles at me when I recite the list, which screws everything up and keeps me awake.”
Oh, so that’s what the pacing is about. It’s a little concerning that he needs to do something like that in order to sleep. Still, I don’t want to be critical, so I reassure him.
“Ah, yeah, I get that. You know, that’s a really good technique. I read somewhere once that we replay the day in our heads before we go to sleep. It gives us a sense that everything is done and dusted.”
Jay looks at me for a long minute, so long that I start to get self-conscious. “I sleep better when you’re with me,” he says, voice low.
I try to make light of his seriousness, ignoring the tingles beneath my skin. “Like in a pile? You’re such a big kid.”
Something tugs at his lips. “Doesn’t have to be a pile. There are a number of positions I’m partial to. You want me to show you?”
His tone dips low on the word “positions,” and I focus on chewing the salty, crispy bacon he cooked for me. “No need for any show-and-tell.”
Jay chuckles, and we eat in quiet for a minute.
“Are you doing anything later on?” he asks then. “I’d like to take you somewhere.”
“Not really. I’m going to do some sewing today, then I’m free as a bird. Where do you want to take me?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Hmm, I’m beginning to think you might be just as partial to annoying secrets as you are to positions, Mr Fields,” I joke.
“Yeah, well, it’s not my fault I love those little gasps you make when you’re surprised,” he answers brazenly, a taunting gleam in his eye.
I point my slice of toast at him. “You’re in rare form this morning.”
“I’m glad my form impresses you.”
“You would be glad, you…peacock.”
A bark of laughter erupts from him. “Peacock?”
“What? I’m tired. I’m not good at thinking up witty comebacks when I’m tired.”
“You know, I do like the way your lips move when you say ‘peacock.’”
I look at him, my mouth forming a surprised “O.” When I find the words to speak, I give him a flat, “Shut up.”
“Finish your breakfast and get some energy into you, tired Tilly,” he says, looking at me fondly.
I stab a piece of bacon with my fork. “Don’t call me Tilly.”
He raises his hands in the air, laughing. “Okay. You don’t like Tilly. Duly noted.”
***
If there’s one thing that I love doing with Jay, it’s riding with him…in his car. Minds out of the gutter, please. He gave me strict instructions not to eat any dinner, and when we were leaving, he tucked a large duffel bag in the trunk. I thought he might be taking me out to dinner, but the duffel bag threw me. So now I haven’t the foggiest where he’s taking me or what he plans on doing when we get there.
I mess around with my seat, reclining it so I can relax and let the wind rush through my hair, the window open beside me. Jay parks in a Georgian area of the city and helps me out, retrieving the duffel bag.
“You don’t have a bunch of murder weapons in there, do you?” I joke as he leads me down the street.
He only gives me an elusive smile. “Nope.”
We near a small park, and there’s a line of people queuing up outside the gates. Jay takes my hand in his, our fingers intertwining as we join the queue.
“If you don’t tell me what this is, I’m going to ask the people standing in front of us,” I push.
“Do it and face the consequences,” he warns.
I scowl and resign myself to not knowing until he decides it’s time to reveal his plans. The queue moves forward slowly, and when we reach the gates leading into the park, I crane my neck to see inside. I can’t see much, but I do notice some pretty fairy lights hung through the trees. They look magical.
Jay hands the girl at the gate two tickets, and she stamps our hands with red dots. Pulling me inside, Jay leads me through the trees lined with fairy lights and into an open grassy area where people are setting down blankets and picnics. At the top of the open space, someone has set up at huge projection screen, and that’s when it all clicks into place. Outdoor cinema! I’ve never been to an outdoor cinema before. How wonderful.
“Jay,” I whisper to him, touched.
He turns his head to me slightly, but keeps walking, searching for a good spot to set up.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for bringing me here. I love it.”
He smiles tenderly. “The movie hasn’t even started yet.”
“What is it?”
He gives me a shiver-inducing look. “The Piano.”
His answer makes me blush like crazy. Trust him not to forget about me telling him how much I, uh, enjoy that film. He doesn’t draw out my embarrassment, but instead pulls a fleece blanket from the duffle bag and spreads it out on a patch of grass close to the back of the park. The sky is starting to darken, somewhere in between day and night, and a terrible sense of romance clutches at my chest. He planned all of this. For me. For us.