Page 138 of In Sheets of Rain

On the plane home, we held hands. Our shoulders bumping. Our heads bowed toward each other’s. We didn’t watch a movie. We talked. About nothing and everything. About whatever came to mind.

The stewardess smiled at us. Asked us if we were on our honeymoon. I laughed. Michael smiled.

He asked me to move in with him as the plane descended into Auckland Airport. I told him I’d think about it.

We collected our baggage from the carousel. Michael insisted on carrying mine as well. The sun shone when we stepped out of the terminal.

He looked down at me and asked me again.

I just smiled.

We held hands on the drive to my flat. His thumb gently swept across my wrist. I stared out of the window and felt alive.

He walked me to my door — his hands in his pocket. His feet shuffling.

“Move in with me,” he said.

I looked at him. He looked at me.

“Whisper misses you,” he tried.

I arched my brow.

He looked down at the ground for a moment and then lifted his head, his eyes wild. Then he stepped toward me and wrapped a hand around the back of my neck and kissed me as if he were dying, and this was his last chance at life.

I melted. He sighed. The kiss lasted forever and not nearly long enough. We pulled apart breathless. Michael lay his forehead against mine.

“Move in with me,” he whispered, eyes closed, face open.

I reached up and touched his jaw. He lifted his head and opened his eyes. We stared at each other. I fell into pools of blue so beguiling.

“Move in with me,” he said again.

I stood on the threshold of my small flat. The sun shone down. Cars tooted their horns out on the main road. Michael held his breath.

I didn’t bother to count mine.

“Move in with me,” he whispered, and I smiled.

He searched my gaze, hope and excitement in his eyes.

I searched my heart and found the answer I’d known I’d give him all along.

“Trolley Girl?” he said.

“Yes, Suit Guy,” I replied.