Under the Southern Cross

by Claire McNab

  Lee had been watching me. Her tone was suddenly warm, intimate. "No, darling. That just precipitated it. I was going to tell you tonight. I wasn't going to be able to wait any longer."

  “You can't bring yourself to put it into words, can you Lee?"

  "Sure I can. I love you, Alex." She waited until I opened my eyes. "Now it's your turn."

  I couldn't stop smiling. "Oh, all right, if you insist. I love and adore you. I tried to stop and I couldn't. Satisfied?"

  She nodded, took my hand, linking our fingers.

  "Lee, are you sure you can drive with one hand on the wheel in a strange city on the wrong side of the road?"

  "Of course," she said with all her old arrogance. Then, "I should warn you, Alex, this may not be love. I've only spent ninety-five percent of my time thinking about you for the past three months. You might want to wait for that missing five percent..."

  "That five percent's a worry," I said, "but, what the hell — I'll take the chance."