Suddenly, she was so full of feeling she couldn’t possibly keep it in. Breaking the kiss, she blurted out, “I love you.”
Of course, once she’d said it, she really wished that she hadn’t.
For a moment of perfect, shining mortification, Nina might’ve sacrificed a sheep—a small goat, at least—for the chance to cram those words back into her mouth. And since she’d been a vegetarian since she was fourteen, that was a pretty major concession.
But once that moment passed, she realised that actually, she’d rather not sacrifice any goats. It was better this way. She was better brave. And she’d already started, so she might as well go all in. Gnawing on her lower lip, avoiding James’s gaze—his chest was a lot easier to stare at right now than his eyes—she kept talking.
“I’ve been in love with you for, like, three years. I don’t know. It kind of snuck up on me. But I thought you’d never see me in that way, so I tried to ignore it, and then I got this ridiculous idea about, like, seducing you.” She laughed nervously, her voice higher than usual. She had to keep talking, had to stretch out the moment in time when she was still doing this to avoid the moment in time when it would be utterly, awkwardly done. “Obviously, that didn’t go very well—you kind of took it the wrong way—and I got pretty sensitive about the whole thing, I’m not gonna lie—I mean, you weren’t obligated to want me—”
“Nina,” James interrupted gently.
She ignored him, shifting on to her back and staring at the smooth, white ceiling. “But all that doesn’t really matter now, because you do want me, except of course you might have changed your mind a little bit now because—”
“No, Nina.”
“Because really, who just says they—”
“I love you,” James said.
She froze. Shock sent her mind haywire until all she could splutter in response was, “Are you serious?”
“About loving you?” he asked mildly.
“No, about your choice in wallpaper. Yes, about loving me.”
“Antonina Chapman,” he smiled, “I am absolutely serious about loving you.”
James was almost always serious, after all. And yet, she turned to stare into his eyes, as if she might spot doubt or hesitation. Instead, all she saw was steady, shining affection—deep enough, vast enough, heavy enough to scare her and wrap her up safe and sound all at the same time. She pressed a hand to his cheek, feeling the rasp of stubble beneath her palm. “Really?”
His hand settled on her cheek and they were mirrors of each other. “Really.”
Smiling now, she narrowed her eyes. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” She knew he wasn’t. She knew.
James burst out laughing, his whole body shaking with it, his smile brighter than the sun. “Oh, for God’s sake, Nina. Come here.”
And she did, because she knew he meant it. James Foster did not lie to Nina Chapman. That much was almost law between them.
And here, now, as their lips met, was a new law. Freshly forged, but no less powerful than all the rest.
They loved each other. They loved each other. They loved each other.
Epilogue
“It’s been difficult, to say the least.”
James stood backstage and watched Nina’s face on the small flat screen. After an hour in hair and makeup, she looked beautiful, if kind of… un-Nina-like. But she knew what she was doing. If she’d allowed someone to put her thick hair into a neat braid, even though the style gave her headaches, there must be a reason. And if she’d let them slather lip-gloss all over her, and was even remembering not to lick it off, there must be a reason. So he didn’t focus on the differences, or even on the delicate, fluttering movements she made with her hands, or the calculated pauses in her speech. He focused on her words.
Because, with her clever performance, Nina was saying the kind of things no-one got away with saying on TV.
“Of course,” Heidi Carpenter nodded, her mouth a moue of sympathetic understanding. “I mean, the kind of abuse you’ve received…” She paused to glance at the vast screen behind the deceptively homey-looking sofa she and Nina were perched on. A scrolling view of the messages, tweets and comments Nina had gotten appeared, the profanity blurred until the whole thing was a sea of smudged black-and-white. “It must have shaken you.”
“It did,” Nina said softly. “It did.” And though this whole thing was a performance of a kind, a calculation, another kind of strength—he heard the truth there, too. Nina’s vulnerability wasn’t for anyone else, but it still existed. Whether she hid it or used it or chose to ignore it, it was always there.
“The thing is,” she went on, “I consider myself a tough woman. I have a support network, too; people around me who love and protect me. But if I were more fragile, or alone, this could truly have torn me apart. Sometimes I think black women in particular are seen as ‘strong’ in a way that removes our humanity. There have been some extreme examples in the media lately—think Prince Ruben and his wife Cherry Neita, or the furore around the Duke and Duchess of Sussex. People believe that abusing us doesn’t matter, because we can take more than other people. That’s not the case. My real worry is for the black girls and young women who’ll see the messages I’ve received and wonder if those insults apply to them. That’s how hate poisons entire societies.”
Heidi hummed supportively before saying, “And what about those who are purely concerned with your politics? Because, as we’ve seen, some of the messages you received were atrocious—but there are others who have no problem with you personally, yet suggest that your beliefs are dangerous.”
Nina gave a small laugh, her dark eyes sparkling with what James knew was true amusement. She was handling all this very well, but she’d stayed up most of last night with nerves. She hadn’t been able to eat breakfast that morning. But now, she was laughing, and it was real, and he’d never been so proud of her.
She could find humour anywhere, despite her constant analysis of the world’s darkness. He didn’t think she realised how precious that was, but he’d make sure to remind her.
“I’m far from dangerous,” she said, her lips still curved into a sweet little smile. “I want education for all and honest government. My only rule is ‘do no harm’. If anyone doubts that, all they have to do is read my website and formulate an opinion for themselves.”
“Well,” Heidi said with a coy little glance at the camera, “you certainly don’t seem scary to me!”
Nina laughed again, and if he hadn’t known her so well, he’d have had no idea that this one was fake. “What rankles,” she said, “is that I’m being treated as a threat for writing an article about the Leave campaign’s proven duplicity—which is something I think Britain deserves to know about. Our government representatives should work for us, not trick us.”
Heidi nodded in silent—and therefore not-too-controversial—agreement.
“I don’t think sharing public information is dangerous,” Nina went on. “What’s truly dangerous is the fact that someone attempted to dox me. That I’ve had online threats and harassment leak into my real life. Where’s the outcry against the people who threatened to kill me? The ones who’ve spent weeks terrorising me?” Her words were quiet, but that somehow made her passion more compelling.