Page 339 of The Long Way Home

She walks over to me in nothing but her knickers. Pretty fun. The novelty of that still hasn’t worn off. Hope it never does.

Hold her by the waist, tilt my head. Smile a bit.

She’s hands me a big dress in a garment bag.

“What’s this? We getting married right now?”

“Off the rack?” She blinks at me, then laughs and shakes her head.

Zips at the side, this dress. Bit of a pain to get into with that shoulder of hers and those ribs, literally a pain. But she perseveres all the same, swearing like a fucking sailor, but anything for a good dress.

I have these moments where I can’t believe it. That we’re doing this. Properly, finally.

I’m locking her down, putting a ring on it and all that shit.

My eyes go blurry with this weird new want I’ve got for her. Different from before, different from the other kinds that still live in me.

Do her up, kiss her big.

She presses herself into me. Peeps in pain as she does.

Sex is a while off for us, I reckon, with these injuries of hers.

She’s taking it worse than I am.

Looks up at me with big eyes. “We could… you know…” Gives me a look. “Before we go.”

“For sure—” I nod and point at her. “You’ve experienced some sort of miraculous intervention that’s healed your broken ribs and clavicle instantly, yeah?”

She huffs. “You like sex.”

“I do.” I nod. “Especially with you. Can’t wait to have it.”

“Then why won’t you do it?” She pouts.

I hold her face in my hands. “Because you have literal broken bones, Parks—”

Her eyes go a bit round and she shrinks back a little. “You won’t get bored of waiting for me?”

“Ah.” I nod. Heart goes heavy. Hate that my fucking around fucked her up. Force a smile. “Been waiting on you all my life.”

She shakes her head. “You know what I mean.”

“Listen—” I push my hand through her hair. “We both did shit things to each other when we were trying to work out how to get back to each other. I know I cheated on you—” Her eyes fall from mine. “But remember, that wasn’t about you, that was about me.” She squeezes my hand, eyes big how they go every time we talk about what happened to me.

I brush my thumb over her cheek.

“But every other girl I’ve ever been with has been about you.” I shrug and she frowns at me, confused. “I know you think I’m, like, a fucking sex maniac but I’m not. I like it. I’m good at it — ask anyone,” I tell her with a grin.

That one doesn’t land.

She glares at me. “Not helping.”

I bite back a smile. “But Parks, besides that one time with Paili, I’d be hard pressed to find a time that wasn’t about you, or because of you. Because I missed you, because I wanted you, or because you were gone, because you were fucking Tom England or you flirted with a bartender. Sex for me, for the vast majority of my life, has been about you.” I give her a look.

“Oh.” She blinks. Cheeks pink. “Um—” Flicks her eyes to the ceiling. “I’m codependent—”

I whistle low because it’s true and also an understatement.