Page 138 of How to Belong with a Billionaire

“Good to know. Can we see it?”

I could feel Caspian’s bewilderment, but he agreed regardless. We made an odd party, groping our way up there in the semidarkness, me in my frock, and Caspian in a half-buttoned evening shirt and black trousers, both of us barefoot, and carrying the duvet I’d insisted we bring. It was lighter outside, dawn already beginning to push at the edges of the sky, ripples of pink spreading across the grey-blue clouds like raspberry sauce over an ice cream sundae.

As with the bedroom, the terrace had been maintained but not cared for: a collection of empty plant pots and one of those rattan sofas beneath a protective cover, which we peeled away. The sofa itself was surprisingly cosy once we got settled, although I was glad for the duvet because my dress wasn’t exactly suitable for winter days. It was a while before Caspian felt cuddly but the fresh air and open space seemed to do him good. And eventually, he moved up behind me and drew me into his arms.

“We can go inside again,” he said. “If you want.”

I snuggled into him and made sure my feet were properly wrapped up. “Why don’t we stay? We can watch the sun rise.”

“As long as you aren’t cold.”

“I’m perfect. And maybe, afterwards, you can take me to a café for breakfast.”

“Shouldn’t we get changed first?”

I thought about it for a moment. “No.”

“Then”—he tweaked my hair out of my eyes for me and folded the duvet even more tightly around me—“that’s what we’ll do.”

We didn’t speak much after that. Just sat together, watching the world shed its nighttime colours for new ones. The house was only three stories high, so, in all honesty, the view was mainly of other people’s roof gardens. But I liked the higgledy-piggledy press of the surrounding buildings, with their chimneys and their sloping eaves, the crumbling forests of television aerials and satellite dishes, and we had our own piece of steadily brightening sky.

It was kind of weird to think I’d spent so long dreaming about the end of my story with Caspian: the airport chase and the promise of forever and the kiss in the rain as the orchestra soared and the credits rolled. And yet here we were. The same people we’d always been. Exactly where we were supposed to be.

All that time, waiting like a fool for an ending.

When what I’d really wanted—what we’d both needed—was a beginning.