I jump. “Warn a bloke, will you? I’m in a delicate condition.”
“You’re really not, and if you’re thinking of trying to leverage an asthma attack into me making you tea, think again.”
“You’re very hard-hearted.” I nudge him. “Are you sure I can’t get tea?”
He sighs. “You know you can.”
He goes to move, but I turn and throw myself against him. “Don’t go. The bed will get cold.”
Chuckling, he wraps his arm around me. It’s alarmingly easy to lie like this with him, as if we’ve time travelled back to when we first got together.
After a few seconds of peaceful silence, I stir. “Let’s play truth or dare.”
“Are you ten?”
“No, but it’ll have to be a virgin truth or dare with no alcohol. I’m really not up to that.” I consider how tired I feel. “And no dares either.”
“So, actually just truth extortion.”
I shrug. “You say tomato. I say tomarto.”
“We both say tomato, and okay.”
I blink at him. “You’re actually going to do it?”
He stretches. “Why not?”
“But you’ve never told me anything before.” I regret saying that as soon as the words come out of my mouth. A remorseful look comes over his face. “Ignore that,” I command. “Okay, most embarrassing moment.” I hold up a finger as he starts to talk. “But the really good stuff. Not some crappy ‘I got toilet paper on my shoe’ memory.”
He raises one eyebrow. “Can I talk now, or do you wish to put more conditions on my revelations?”
I wave a regal hand and watch his mouth twitch in amusement. “Go ahead.”
He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling contemplatively. “I don’t think I’ve got one.”
“What?”
He shrugs. “I can’t remember ever being very embarrassed.”
“Are you actually human?” I demand. “What the fuck?”
“Joe, I own what I do, and people take me as I am. Hence, no embarrassment.” His eyes are bright with laughter. “Now tell me yours. That is how the game works, is it not?”
I stare at him and then give in. “Oh, okay. Once I was at a wedding and the bride was coming down the aisle when her dress caught on a pew. I leapt out to help her, but as I bent down my trousers split.” I pause, shuddering at the memory. “And I wasn’t wearing any underwear.”
His lip twitches before he starts to laugh. “Oh my god,” he chortles.
I shove him. “Shut up. She had hysterics. Rafferty tried to tell her that it was lucky to see a full moon on her wedding day, but the bride’s mother accused him of inappropriate levity and refused to pay our fee.”
He laughs some more, and I watch him, smiling at the endearing sight. Finally, he sobers. “Are there any more embarrassing incidents? I must hear more.”
“I once threw up in a bridegroom’s top hat.”
He snorts. “Oh my god. Were you drunk?”
“No,” I say indignantly. “I had a bug.” I consider the memory. “He was very nice about it, although his hat was completely buggered, and I had to lend him mine. I think he might actually have been more bothered than he let on,” I say contemplatively. “Because when they had to chuck their hats in the air, he threw mine at me quite hard and I got a nosebleed. Then the bridesmaid had hysterics because some of the blood ended up on her dress and unfortunately when she blundered away, she knocked into the groom’s mum, and the poor lady fell over a gravestone.” I sigh. “That wedding was one of the more traumatic ones.”
“This is the most absolutely glorious game. I must insist we play it for eternity.”
There’s a sudden volley of bangs from the corridor outside and we both jump.
“What the fuck is that?” I say.
“Tristram and Rupert, come here,” Erica’s brother calls in an alarmed voice.
“We want to go in that room,” Tristram screeches.
I wince. “Fucking hell, that child’s voice could pierce steel.”
“If either of them starts riding tricycles down the corridor I must insist we get out of this place.”
I snort.
“No,” Noah says in a pleading voice. “That’s someone’s bedroom.”
“But there’s a fire escape on the balcony we want to go on, Daddy.”
“Under no circumstances,” he says weakly.
“Well, I’d do as Noah told me like a shot. He has such an authoritative air about him,” I say.
Lachlan laughs. We hear the sound of the door opening in the room next door.
“If they knock their way through, I’ll throw you at them so I can make my escape. Is that okay?” I whisper.
“Of course, darling. I live to be your cannon fodder.”
“No, boys,” Noah says. “Now I know you’ve opened the door when I said no but we can forget about that. However, I must insist you do not go into that room.”
Shrieks come from beyond the wall and then a flurry of bangs.
Noah groans. “Boys, I must insist you do not go into the room any farther. Well, any farther than you’ve gone in now, but Daddy is telling you not to go out on that balcony.”
Lachlan and I are now sitting up, listening intently. There’s the sound of a balcony door opening.
“I’m in awe of this man’s command of the situation,” Lachlan observes. “He could have had a successful career with His Majesty’s Army with that attitude.”
“Tristram and Rupert, I am putting my foot down. Do not go on that fire escape. Shit!”
The balcony door slams shut and then there’s a cacophony of shrieks and a very loud temper tantrum, and Noah’s voice fades away down the corridor again.
“Wow,” Lachlan says faintly.
“We should take lessons on what not to do in case we’re ever parents.” I realise what I just said and hastily backtrack. “I mean separately, obviously. In case you are a father, and I am too but not together—”
“Joe, shut up.” His voice is rich with amusement and some other emotion I can’t quite parse.
I snort and then stretch lusciously. “God it’s nice to wake up in a comfy, warm bed.” I look around the room approvingly. “And such a lovely round room. I feel like Rapunzel.”
“You’d have flirted your way out of that tower within twenty seconds.” His eyes are ravenous and just like that the atmosphere thickens.
“Lachlan?” I say.
“Lachie,” he mutters.
I tip my chin and groan as he finally fits his lips to mine. It’s like being given water when you’re desperately thirsty. Miles across the desert and finally home. His lips are full and pillowy-soft against mine. It’s always a surprise that such a hard man has lips this soft. I lick across the full lower lip and one of us groans. I don’t know who, but our mouths open and the kiss goes wild.
Our tongues twine and tangle together, and I clutch him. It’s incredible that we’re doing this again. He just signed our divorce papers for Christ’s sake, but it makes no difference to how fucking right this feels.