Page 42 of Charlie Sunshine (Close Proximity #2)

“Come here.” I pull him to me, so he rests his head on my shoulder. I start to manipulate the pressure points on his hands, and, after a few minutes, he gives an easier sigh and nestles closer. “That’s a bit better. Okay, talk,” he instructs me.

I shrug. “I don’t know why, but I felt vulnerable coming to completely naked after the turn.”

“But you were with me?” The incredulity is loud in his voice.

“I know that. Before, when we were just friends, it was fine. But it’s not so easy being weak in front of someone you…” I hesitate and draw in a deep bolstering breath. “Someone you love,” I finish in a whisper.

“Charlie,” he says in an awed voice. “Oh, Charlie, really?” I nod, feeling my heart speed up as he gives me a glorious wide smile. He leans up and kisses me hard. “I love you too,” he says with passion in his voice. “So much.”

My head whirls. “When?”

“Always.” He shrugs. “I’ve loved you in some form or another since we were kids. This is just the latest and final version.” He gives me a look. “I’m hoping it will last the rest of our lives if you don’t make any more bad wedding-party choices.”

“Misha,” I gasp and grab him close, hugging him tightly and inhaling the scents of whisky, bergamot, and laundry powder. Happiness run through me.

“I meant that song,” he says earnestly into my hair. “I know I was pissed, but I still meant it. Every word was us.”

“But how can we be automatically sunshine? Surely that’s not realistic?”

“Oh my God. Charlie Burroughs has missed the point of words. Let me get my phone and record this auspicious moment.” I pinch him.

He laughs but then quickly sobers, pushing the hair back from my face.

“The song’s not saying that, Charlie. It’s saying that we’ll face hard times, but as long as we’re together even in those bad times there will always be warmth and comfort.

That’s us in a nutshell.” He shakes his head disapprovingly at me.

“Don’t start that crap anyway,” he advises me.

“What crap?” I squint at him.

“The crap where you think you’ve got to be perfect for me.” I bite my lip, and he smiles fiercely. “I knew it. I knew you were doing that. You’ve done it for every single boyfriend you’ve ever had, and it’s never got you very far.”

“I do try to do it with everyone,” I admit. “But I don’t think I’ve managed to be all sunshine for you and that fucks me up because I want to be the best I can for you, and I haven’t managed it.”

Misha smiles. “And can I just say how fucking happy I am about that?”

I’m shocked. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I don’t want the face you show to the rest of the world. I want the real Charlie with his very occasional grouchiness. I want the man that no one else sees. That’s my reward in our relationship. The ability to see you unvarnished.”

“Why on earth would you want to see me pissed off? Is there something wrong with you?”

“Because that’s you, and I want all of you. That’s what partners see.” He shrugs again. “And let’s face it, Charlie, compared to most people, you’ve got the temperament of Saint Stephen.”

“Wasn’t he stoned to death?”

“Don’t nitpick.” He pulls me close and kisses my head, and we lie quietly together for a while. Then he stirs. “It’s possible to be in love and not feel trapped, you know.”

I stiffen because this is the heart of my fears, and Misha has unerringly homed in on it. “How?”

“When I think of you, I don’t think of chains.

I think of laughter in the dark and the sweet smell of all your bloody candles which means that we’ll never be caught short by a power cut.

I think of the man who builds dangerous book towers on his bedside table that threaten life and limb, and who makes my house a real home by making me buy fucking orange sofas.

The man who makes me face the prospect that I’m going to have to continue buying bookshelves until one day either our floors collapse or we give up and buy a new house.

I think of being in love with my best friend and staying that way. ”

“But you seem to always end up looking after me. And you have enough of that with everyone else. It isn’t fair, Misha.”

He looks at me in disbelief. “I like looking after you. I always have done. Because you’re mine.”

“But I could get worse. I might end up needing surgery. You’ll be responsible for me.”

“That might happen,” he admits. “But we’ll deal with it, the two of us.

” He hesitates, obviously looking for inspiration.

“If I was close to death, would you leave? Say it’s been nice knowing you and go off to live in one of those little beachside cottages with a thatched roof in Turkey where you’d drink tequila with a scorpion on your hand in a beach bar while the locals cheer you on until you pass out at the bar? ”

I blink. “That’s alarmingly detailed.” I pause. “And also heavily lifted from Skyfall.”

He ignores me. Something he’s good at when I’ve spotted an error.

“The thing is, if that did happen, we’d deal, and do you know why, Charlie?

Because you wouldn’t be some random responsibility.

Like food that’s gone past its sell-by date.

You’d be my Charlie who is funny and the kindest, happiest person I know.

Who is clever and cares far too much about the council’s long-range planning strategy for libraries.

The Charlie who makes me smile when I think of him and gives me butterflies when I see him.

The Charlie who rescues spiders and stray moles in girls’ shoes and makes toast and marmite for me because I love it even though he hates it.

Why would I give up that amazing person for some random bloke who might never have a problem but will still never in a million years be my version of Charlie Sunshine?

And one more thing. You might be my responsibility, but I’m yours too.

You know you’re inheriting my mother and sisters, don’t you?

That some days you’ll have to work to calm me down and you’ll intervene and employ that legendary ability of yours to make everyone happy? ”

“But they come with you. They’re a part of you.”

“And epilepsy comes with you. It’s just another part of you, like your exceptionally long toes, the freckles on your shoulders, and those sexy knickers.

I hate that you’ve got it, but at the same time it’s just a tiny part of the awesome whole of you, and I’ll take it happily because if I don’t, I won’t have you, and I’ve come to realise that you’re the best and brightest part of my life. ”

I kiss him, wrapping him tightly in my arms. I love him so fiercely at this moment I’d like to absorb him into my blood.

“ Always ,” I whisper.

“Always,” he echoes.

We snuggle up for a long while, and he’s just starting to relax into sleep when a thought occurs to me, and I repress an evil smile.

“It was lovely that you proposed to me so beautifully though,” I say earnestly into the silence of the room.

“It was honestly the most romantic thing that has e ver happened to me. I mean, I can hardly believe that I’m actually going to be Mister Charlie Lebedinsky.

I can’t wait to sign my new name.” I idly mime scrawling my new signature in the air.

“ What ?” He pushes up, eyes wide, and splutters, “I proposed to you? Oh my God, what did I say?”

I try to look winsome and innocent, but I can’t hold it, and break into laughter instead.

“Wanker,” he says, shoving me gently. We lie back down. “You had me,” he admits.

“Let that be a lesson to you,” I say demurely, and a comfortable silence falls as he plays idly with my hand, tracing the veins on my wrist in seeming fascination.

“I will one day though,” he says suddenly.

“You will do what one day?” I ask idly.

“I will propose one day.”

I stare at him in astonishment, feeling warmth wrap around me.

“I’m just warning you,” he says. “I’m going to make the proposal so fucking lovey-dovey that your head will explode.”

“Not sure that’s quite the outcome you should be looking for, but thank you for warning me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Just so you know, I’m going to say yes to you, Misha Lebedinsky, because you’re the love of my life.”

“I know,” he says calmly and kisses me.

He pulls back and snuggles down into the sofa, dragging me with him until we’re curled tightly together. Once we’re situated to his satisfaction, he falls asleep with the suddenness of a child, and I stroke his hair, pressing a kiss to the black wavy strands.

Words fail me as I try to determine how I feel.

I’ve read all the classics with their descriptions of love.

I’ve read wildly romantic books and their stories of passion and I’ve absorbed every word, but they still can’t describe Misha and me.

All I can say is that I’ve never felt so seen by someone before.

I’ve never been loved for everything that I am—the full me—before.

And I’ve never felt like this about any other person.

I love him with a depth and a breadth I didn’t know I possessed, and I would go to the ends of the earth to make him happy.

It all feels right. Warm and bright. Like together, we’ve managed to bottle real sunshine.