Page 29 of Forever, Maybe
Chapter twenty-two
No one was awake when Daniel arrived home. He slipped in through the back door, the faint creak of the hinges drowned out by the silence of the house. The stairs groaned softly under his weight as he made his way to the room he shared with Nell.
She stirred as he entered, one eye cracking open.
A drowsy smile played on her lips. “Hi,” she murmured, her voice warm and husky with sleep.
With a lazy flick of her wrist, she whipped back the duvet, revealing herself curled on her side.
Her vertebrae pressed against the fabric of her black vest, and her silk, lace-trimmed shorts clung to her slender frame.
He undressed quietly, letting his clothes fall into a heap, and slid under the covers. The bed welcomed him with its familiar warmth, and he pressed his body against hers, his arousal nudging insistently at her back. “Pity your mum and dad are here,” he whispered into the curve of her shoulder.
Nell turned over, her lips quirked in a mischievous smirk. She pressed a single finger to her mouth, signalling silence, before sliding down the bed. Her touch was unhurried, deliberate, as she took him into her mouth.
“You don’t have to…” he mumbled, though the words carried no conviction.
His head fell back, and his eyes closed, surrendering to the moment.
An old joke floated to mind, something Joe used to say years ago: Why do lassies smile so much walking down the aisle?
Because they know they’ve just carried oot their last blowjob.
Her tongue traced deliberate, teasing patterns, and his hands found their way into her hair, the silky strands tangling in his fingers.
His breathing quickened as she caressed him, her movements effortless yet intoxicating.
Holding back was almost impossible, especially when her hand slid lower to cradle him.
“I’m gonnae…” he warned, his voice strained.
She gave the slightest nod, a wordless reassurance that she didn’t mind, and he let himself go, a muffled groan escaping his lips as the tension broke.
Moments later, she crawled back up the bed, collapsing onto her pillow. Her pale skin glowed in the daylight streaming through the curtains, highlighting the delicate hollows of her cheeks.
“Want me to return the favour?” he asked softly, tapping the tip of her nose with a finger.
Her eyes fluttered shut, but a small smile lingered. His hand brushed against her throat, then trailed down to her collarbone, the faint curve of bone sharp beneath his fingertips.
He frowned, a flicker of concern breaking through his post-coital haze. As soon as the blasted supermarket pitch was over, he vowed to be home more often. She was too thin, too fragile-looking, and he needed to make sure she was taking care of herself.
She caught hold of his hand just as it reached between her legs, her breath escaping in resignation. “No, I meant to get up half an hour earlier than this. And Mum and Dad will be up by now, bustling around the kitchen and trying to figure out how they can make themselves useful.”
She paused to lean in and kiss him, her teeth grazing his bottom lip. “But you owe me. Big time. When we’re in that fancy London hotel for my birthday, I want the works.”
He nodded, too eagerly. “Aye, of course. The full VIP treatment. You’ll get to come three times more than me.”
“Too bloody right I will, sweetie.”
With a playful smirk, she swept the duvet off and swung her legs out of bed.
The black vest top and lace-trimmed shorts still clung to her like a reminder of the carefree art student she used to be.
Charcoal-smudged hands. Dreams as big as the sky.
Sometimes, he had to remind himself she wasn’t that person anymore, that drudgery had edged its way in with too many responsibilities and compromises.
“I’m so looking forward to it,” she said, almost wistfully, before disappearing into the ensuite.
The door clicked shut, and moments later, the shower roared to life. Daniel lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as if it might miraculously deliver some divine inspiration. Instead, it offered only a heavy, mocking silence.
Nell? How about we book a wee holiday back to Crete? You know, where we had that amazing trip? Maybe June? It’s just… I cannae do that weekend in London I promised.
He grimaced. That wasn’t it.
Or worse: Nell, I’m so sorry, but Asda’s got us pitching our stuff on the twenty-seventh. You know getting my products stocked there has been a dream-come-true for me, but after that… after that, I’m all yours. Promise.
Pish. Neither sounded remotely convincing, even in his head. He groaned, raking a hand through his hair and letting it rest behind his neck.
Twenty-four hours. That’s all he had to figure out how to make her understand. How to explain why the Asda pitch had to come first. Why he wouldn’t be there on her birthday, even though he’d promised.
The steady hiss of the shower on the other side of the door filled the room, a relentless reminder of time slipping away. Daniel envied the water for its simplicity, its unbroken flow. If only life could be so straightforward.
But it wasn’t, and he’d have to face it. Still, he’d wait until the guests had left, when Nell had a couple of glasses of wine to soften her mood. Then he would break the news and hope— pray —that she’d understand.