Daniel spluttered. “Boyfriend?”
“Yes. It means a man with whom I am in a committed relationship. It’s kind of like how Laura is your wife, only without the legal aspect.”
“You’re jealous,” Daniel spat. “You’re jealous, and it’s petty.”
“I’m tired,” Ruth corrected. She wouldn’t bother pointing out the irony of his words, because he’d never realise it. He’d said them to her years ago, over the phone, when he’d told her about the engagement—casual as anything—and she’d told him to go to hell.
God, this man was exhausting.
“I’m tired of you,” she repeated. “I’m tired of your gifts. I’m tired of your insults. I’m tired of your pathetic, teenage attempts to hold power over me, and I’m tired of telling you no. If you don’t leave me alone…” She took in a deep breath, and felt Hannah’s foot nudge hers beneath the table. A reminder. I’m here.
Everyone was here. The pub’s occupants stared openly now, straining to hear every word. Let them.
Clearing her throat, Ruth said loudly, “If you don’t leave me alone, I will report you to the police for harassment. For—for stalking.”
Daniel clenched his jaw, rising up to his full height despite the fact that he was swaying on his feet. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”
Ruth couldn’t bite back her astonished laughter. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I? You pressed charges against my sister.”
“She destroyed my Porsche,” he replied, painfully serious. “What the fuck was I supposed to do? That was a vintage 911, Ruth!”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” she snapped. “Shut up about the fucking car. I am asking you, nicely, to leave me alone. Stop embarrassing yourself.”
Daniel straightened up, his jaw tight, his eyes flicking around the pub. Apparently for the first time, he realised that almost every patron was staring at their little table. She saw the gleam of sweat on his pale brow before he adjusted the cuffs of his designer shirt.
Then, turning on his heel, he barked at his friends, “Come.” Without waiting for their response, he strode off towards the door.
For a moment, the men he’d come in with stared after him in shock. Then, one by one, like trickles of water, they trailed out after him.
The last, a tall, dark man Ruth only vaguely recognised, paused. He nodded at Ruth, then at Hannah, and said roughly, “Sorry about that, girls. One too many.” And then he left.
The sisters stared after him in shock.
“Did he—did he just apologise to us?” Ruth asked, her voice dreamlike.
“He did,” Hannah said slowly. “Holy shit. What the fuck?”
“I don’t even know. Jesus, that was weird. Wow.” And then, after a moment of dazed contemplation: “Poor Laura.”
Hannah snorted. “Poor Laura?! Laura, who tells everyone who’ll listen what a man-eating slut you are? Laura, who campaigned to have me banned from the town centre as an unsuitable person?”
“You know, I’m sure that was just a rumour,” Ruth soothed.
“Was it fuck. She’s bonkers.”
Right. She was also with Daniel. And Ruth had never convinced herself that he’d treat a wife better than he’d treated her. It wouldn't matter who he was with, how he was with them, what ‘kind’ of woman she was. Daniel was Daniel. Daniel hurt people.
She imagined being his wife, carrying his child, and felt slightly sick.
“At the end of the day,” Hannah said decisively, “she treated us like crap.”
“Yeah,” Ruth murmured. “And I bet it didn’t improve her life one bit.”
Hannah stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. Then she opened her mouth, probably to say as much—but was interrupted by Evan’s arrival.
“You okay?” He loomed over the table, reaching out to run a knuckle over Ruth’s cheek. Another casual touch that felt anything but casual. There were so many. She’d never expected to love them or need them like this.
“I’m fine,” she said, and realised that it was true.
“Do you want to leave?”
She looked past him, her eyes circling the room, meeting the gaze of anyone still staring. And, one by one, they all looked away.
“No,” she said finally. “I think I’m having fun.”
A smile spread over Evan’s face, and he squeezed her shoulder. “Okay. Good.”
As the evening went on, that word turned out to be fitting. Good.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ruth watched the sun rise through the gap in Evan’s curtains.
She’d woken up at first light, her head resting on his chest, her heart full. Mornings like this had become a habit over the last weeks.
Well, except for the part where she watched the dawn. What a God-awful hour to wake up at.
But sleep had been difficult last night, even after Evan loved her to the point of physical exhaustion. Her mind hadn’t been able to shut off. She was somewhere between excited and nervous, and that had always interfered with her ability to sleep.
Ruth didn’t want to check the time, didn’t want to move at all in case she disturbed the gentle rise and fall of Evan’s chest. But the sun was up now, so it would soon be time for the Easter service. Which she’d promised Mum she would attend—and which she’d invited Evan to, along with Sunday dinner afterwards.
She’d never introduced a man to her mother before. Actually, she’d never really had the chance. Never really had the choice. Now she did, and she’d chosen, and if it all went horribly wrong somehow, she’d only have herself to blame.
How, exactly, would it go horribly wrong? She had no idea. Her mother was the most laid-back person on earth. Hannah, the real test, already knew and reluctantly liked Evan. Evan liked Hannah, and he could probably charm Mum more thoroughly in a day than Ruth had managed in a lifetime. Logically, absolutely nothing could go wrong.
But she worried anyway, because all three of those people were more important to her than anything in the world, and bringing them together seemed like a risk. If there were such a thing as heart insurance, putting her mother, sister and boyfriend in the same room would double her premium.
But beneath the nerves, she felt an unexpected sort of… joy. Evan was hers. He was proudly, publicly hers, and she was his, and everything was simpler than she’d ever dreamed it could be. Ruth trailed a finger over the warm, soft skin of his shoulder, tracing out the same three words again and again.
I love you.
He woke up slowly. He always did. First his breathing changed, went from deep and unconscious to something less steady. Then his heart would speed up slightly beneath her ear. And his hands, which would invariably be resting on some part of her—her waist, her hips, her shoulders—would tighten.
This morning, he grasped her thigh gently with one hand, her forearm with the other. Then he slid both hands over her skin, and they met at her waist. He said, his voice slow and rasping, “Happy Easter. Is that what you say?”
She kissed his chest and stilled her tracing finger. “Yes, you heathen. What, you don’t read the icing before you eat your chocolate?”
“I glance,” he murmured dryly. “The eating part has always taken priority.”
Apparently, the hours of conflicting nerves writhing around in her stomach could’ve been dealt with hours ago, if she’d only woken Evan up. All of a sudden, she felt just fine.
“Evan,” she said. She had no idea what she was doing. Something close to panic rose in her like a flood, except it wasn’t panic, not at all—it shared the same sharpness, but it held delicious sweetness too.
He raised his brows. “Yeah?”
And, since she wouldn’t say it at all if she didn’t blurt it out, Ruth mumbled, “UmmmmIloveyou.”
She’d expected him to look at least a little surprised. But he didn’t look surprised; not at all. She might have been insulted by that, if it weren’t for the pleasure spreading over his face, as warm and unstoppable as the morning sunrise had been.
&nb
sp; “What was that?” He asked, his eyes dancing. She slid her fingers into his beard and pulled. He twisted his head to bite gently at her hand. “I didn’t hear you,” he insisted. “Go on.”
“Bugger off.”
He tweaked her nose. “Is that what you said? It sounded more like—”
“Oh, be quiet.”
He shook his head, smile wider than ever. “I don’t think that was it, either.”
“I love you! Okay?”
Evan’s eyes were all soft heat, his movements slow. He wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her closer, until their faces were level. Then he whispered, “That’s good. Because I am hopelessly in love with you too.”
And then he kissed her. He kissed her hard, for a very long time, and eventually the kissing became touching, and the touching became sighing, and stroking, and rubbing, and gasping. And by the time all was said and done, they’d wasted a solid hour being desperate, love-sick fools.
Which she’d very much enjoyed.
But Ruth made herself push away the vestiges of worn-out pleasure like a comforting blanket, one eye on that slice of sunlight streaking through the curtain.
“Come on,” she said, sitting up reluctantly. The loss of his firm, comforting muscle against her side was eternally sigh-worthy, but needs must. “Let’s get ready.”
He slid a hand over her belly. “We’ve got time.”
“I haven’t. If I don’t do my hair before church Mum will kill me.”
“About that,” he said slowly, sitting up.
Ruth raised her brows. “About my hair?”
“No,” he smiled. “About your mother.”
“What about her?”
“Well, is she… I mean, should I…”
Ruth watched him search for words, affection spreading through her chest. He looked quite adorably hesitant. She took pity on him and said, “Are you trying to ask if she’s like me and Hannah?”
He was visibly relieved. “Yes, actually.”
She laughed as she stood, not bothering to cover her nudity. His eyes slid over her body as she searched the floor for her pyjamas. She bit back a smile. “My mother is very nice.”
“What does that mean?” He asked, scepticism dripping from his voice.
“Honestly, take it at face value. She’s nice.” Ruth found her pyjamas and went to the bed, pressing a quick kiss against his furrowed brow. “You’ll be fine. Now I’m going next door to sort my hair out.”
He laid back against the pillows. “See you in a sec, kitten.”
“Bye,” Ruth called over her shoulder. She checked her phone as she made the increasingly unnecessary journey from Evan’s flat to her own.
Of course, it wasn’t Ruth who’d started bringing her things to Evan’s. It was him.
You’ll need them in the morning, he’d say, and grab some pyjamas from her drawer. Or, Might as well keep it at mine, and then he’d pick up something like her toothbrush or her phone charger, and the best part was that he thought he was being subtle.
She’d never thought a man would want her things littered across his space, but apparently Evan did.
Ruth checked her texts with one hand as she headed to the bathroom, unwinding the band from the end of her braid. She had a text from Penny, which had been a regular occurrence since Ruth had written her number on that volunteering form. The first text had said:
Ruth,
Just to let you know, your DBS check is ongoing. :) Once it’s done you can start right away!
Penny :)
Ruth had replied, with coaching from Evan—because texting Marjaana, her best friend, was one thing, but texting someone new felt like a test she’d almost certainly fail.
Penny had responded, and now they talked. Penny maintained her oddly formal texting style and excessive use of smiley faces. Ruth maintained her disbelief at the fact that Penny actually wanted to interact with her, for fun. Or something. Whatever.
But Penny’s Happy Easter :) wasn’t the only message. There was one from a number she hadn’t saved, which made Ruth pause in the act of ferreting out her Shea butter.
Here it bloody goes, then.
Ruth’s breath caught in her chest.
“You don’t know how lucky you are.”
Hayley rolled her eyes. “That my parents never take me anywhere?”
“That your parents never take you to church,” Maria corrected. “Tell her, Ruth.”
Ruth grunted.
“You’re ungrateful cows, the both of you,” Hayley muttered. “Youse get Sunday dinner after. What do I get? Fish fingers, if Laura’s about.”
“So learn to cook,” Maria winked.
“Cooking’s for suckers. Tell her, Ruth.”
Ruth wrapped her tie around her finger, as tight as it would go, until the school’s burning torch logo disappeared. Then she let it unravel and felt the blood return to the digit.
“Are you listening, Ruth?”
Ruth grunted.
The school bell rang, signalling the end of the day, and Ruth pursed her lips. She’d go straight home, get changed, Mum would drag a comb through her hair, and then they’d be marched down to church for Good Friday. Maria would go through the same process at the Catholic church in the next village over, and Hayley would get to go home and watch TV.
She caught Maria’s eye and sighed. “Here it bloody goes, then.”
“Oh,” Maria laughed. “She speaks.”
Ruth stared at the text for what felt like a painfully long time. Then she remembered that she had things to do, an important day to prepare for. Really, she should ignore the text completely.
Instead, she typed out:
Oh. She speaks.
Then she put her phone face-down on the counter and got on with her hair.
Chapter Thirty-Four
One thing Evan could not have predicted about Ruth was her extensive knowledge of hymns.
She appeared to have memorised at least ten, by his calculation. Of course, it could have been a hundred. At this point, they were all blurring into one, and Evan was staring down at the dogged, old hymn book he’d found in his pew and mouthing along silently.
Hopefully, he looked enthusiastic enough to convince Patience Kabbah. The tiny, brightly-dressed woman seemed utterly serene, but he still didn’t completely trust that. She had produced both Ruth and Hannah. She had to be secretly terrifying, somehow.
Right now, in an enormous hat with a beatific smile on her round face, Patience seemed anything but terrifying. That made him even more suspicious.
But at least she seemed, thus far, to like him. He really, really needed Ruth’s mother to like him.
When the service was finally over, Evan realised that the hard part had only just begun. Standing beside someone during church was an easy interlude of occasional friendly eye contact. But now he’d go back to Ruth’s family home, and have dinner, and Ruth loved her family more than anything so if he fucked up somehow…
“Hey.” Ruth’s voice was soft, her hand capturing his. “Let’s go.”
Her mother and sister were making their way through the milling crowd of churchgoers, moving leisurely towards the huge, wooden doors. He found himself studying the metalwork of the door’s hinges, analysing how they’d been designed. Then he pulled himself together, his fingers tightening around Ruth’s.
“You seem slightly dazed,” she murmured, her lips pursed in that almost-smile.
“I’ve never been to church before,” he replied under his breath. “I didn’t think there’d be so much… singing.”
“Lucky for you, we only have to go twice a year.”
Evan tried not to grin wide, or squeeze her hand, or do anything to give away how those words went straight to his heart. If he did, she might realise the implications of what she’d just said and come over all embarrassed.
But really—who knew twice-annual obligations could feel so romantic?
“Twice?” He said. “Easter and…?”
“Ch
ristmas.” She shot him a smile, a real smile. “You’re bad at this.”
“I know.” He smiled back, not even caring that they’d stopped walking, that they were standing in the middle of the church, hands joined, staring at each other like happy little lemmings.
Then a familiar voice said, “Miller. Ruth.”
Evan drew in a deep, deep breath. He hoped that by the time he was ready to exhale, he’d be less pissed off than he currently was.
It didn’t work, exactly. Instead, Evan and Ruth turned as one to find that the voice he’d assumed was Daniel’s belonged to Mr. Burne.
The older man stood stiffly with a tall, dark-haired woman at his side. Behind that woman, resting a hand on her shoulder, was Hayley, the girl who’d been so rude to Ruth.
Which would, logically, make the dark-haired woman Laura Burne.
“Hello,” Ruth said cautiously.
Evan said nothing. Tension seemed to thrum between the three women in an unbalanced sort of triangle. He had the unmistakable feeling of being utterly superfluous. Whatever was happening here would go on well enough without him.
Burne seemed to have a similar idea, because he said, “Well. I shall see you at work, Miller, I’m sure.” And then, after a slight hesitation, he added, “Goodbye, Ruth. Happy Easter.”
Evan could almost feel Ruth’s shock, but it didn’t show on her face—or in her voice when she murmured, “Goodbye, Mr. Burne.”
The man wandered off, leaving Evan and Ruth, Laura and Hayley, standing opposite each other in the middle of the stone floor.
Evan studied the woman who, for better or for worse, had ended up tied to Daniel.
She was tall like her sister, with the same long, dark hair and unobtrusive prettiness. There was a firm set to her narrow shoulders and a sharpness to her jaw that reminded him of women he’d known in the army. She stood close, very close, to her sister, and was resting a hand against her own belly. He remembered hearing somewhere that Daniel’s wife was pregnant. She wasn’t showing. But two rings gleamed on her fourth finger, one bearing an enormous, tear-drop diamond.
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