“I miss the way you walk around in a towel after you get out of the shower.” The words were now mumbled.
“I miss the way I feel just being around you. Like there is someone on my side. Someone in my corner who has my back. I miss feeling safe.”
Her lips opened slightly as her posture went soft.
I miss the way your hair catches the winter sun. I miss that snow angels and hot chocolate energy of yours. I miss the way you look at me sometimes, because I can feel how you love me. And yeah. I know you love me, sweetheart, because I see it in your eyes, I feel it in your fingertips. You have a shitty day and I’m the first person you want to tell about it. And I know it because I feel it too.
“Good night, sunshine,” he said softly. “I love you.”
18
Butterfly wings flapped a steady beat in her chest as the arrival doors of Manchester Airport slid open.
In two more steps, she’d see Jase. At least, she hoped he’d spot her in the flood of people all anxious to be off a long-haul flight.
She’d missed him, with a longing she hadn’t known she was capable of. Her father had spent the last four weeks giving her every professional opportunity. But he’d also raised the issue of Jase and their relationship twice more. Different contexts both times, but similar message. Rock star relationships didn’t last. One was during a conversation about a celebrity divorce between an aging rocker and his young wife, who didn’t seem even remotely comparable. The second, when she’d told him that she’d be happy to run his studio in the UK but only if it was in Manchester. When he’d pushed her for her reasons, she’d told him that Zoe was there. It was only a little more than an hour’s drive away from her mum, that Manchester had a stronger reputation for music than London, and that yes, Jase was there. And why wouldn’t she try to give their relationship the best try she could?
She’d wanted to be mad. But he’d tried so hard in so many other ways. And she understood that his own lived experience said it wasn’t a good idea. And as a child of that kind of mess, she sort of understood it.
When her gaze finally landed on him, a woman was taking a picture of him with two awkward-looking teen boys. But his eyes weren’t focused on the camera, they were scanning the arrivals area.
For her.
Good night, sunshine. I love you.
Though they’d been whispered, she’d heard them. They’d buoyed her through the rest of her stay. And they’d gone some way to insulate her from her father’s concern.
When their eyes met, he grinned, muttered something to the boys, and picked up a large bouquet of yellow roses.
More flowers. Like the ones he’d sent her while he’d been away. And the parcel she’d received with fifteen Curly Wurlys in it, one for every day until they were reunited. It had arrived six days before she left, thanks to the postal service, so she’d eaten two-a-day to catch up. It had also contained a candle with his initial on. She’d lit it every night as she got ready for bed, pressing a kiss to it with her fingertips before she blew it out, hoping he was sleeping, dreaming of her.
He waited for her to step out of the rush of people, then hugged her as she let go of her cases. His arms snaked around her waist, the flowers pressed up against her back, his breath warm against her ear. “I fucking missed you,” he said, quietly.
“I missed you too.”
He cupped the back of her neck and pressed his lips to hers. Everything about them familiar. The taste of him, the way his tongue teased hers. The way fireworks exploded inside her at the simplest of touches.
She settled into the warmth of him, letting the feel of his arms and the scent of him wash over her. She wasn’t sure if it was possible for someone to wither from lack of physical contact, like a plant deprived of water, but she’d come pretty damn close.
Being with him felt like home.
“Thank you for coming to get me. It’s such a relief to know I don’t need to navigate my way to your house.”
“As if I’d let you travel alone. I should play it cool, but Alex will probably tell you anyway, I’ve been here for two hours just in case you got in early. These are for you,” he said finally, switching the roses for her heavy tote bag.
She pressed her nose into them and grinned at the sweet gesture. “They smell so good.”
“Not as good as you, babe.”
“I just got off a long-haul flight. I need a shower. Badly.”
Jase took her two suitcases, one in each hand. “No. I love the smell of your skin in the morning. Gets Little Jase all excited, although he promised to be on his best behaviour at the airport and wait until he got back to the house to say hello.” He winked at her, and his dimples popped in his cheeks.
Cerys rolled her eyes.
She followed him through the airport, taking in the fit of his jeans and the confidence in his stride. Thanks to his size and presence, people had a tendency to move out of his way. Staying behind him allowed her to monitor their reaction. By the time they’d realised who he was, he was already past them.
He paid for the ticket to exit the car park then stopped in front of the car.
“It’s Matt’s. I borrowed it.” He placed the cases inside.
He took her flowers from her and placed them on the roof, before pulling her flush to him and pressing his lips to hers again. His hand dipped beneath the hem of her hoodie, beneath her T-shirt. His calloused fingers on her skin made her shiver.
She wrapped her hands around his neck, gripping his hair, holding him to her.
Jase backed her up against the car, his erection pressing against her stomach as her core tightened in anticipation of what usually followed. He kissed her again, taking away any sense of reason.
Except, they were in a parking lot.
And by the sound of excited chatter and a child squealing, they were not alone. She patted Jase on the shoulder. “I think you’d better take me home.”
He groaned and placed his nose against her neck, sniffing deeply. “Such a spoilsport, Cerys.” Pressing his hands on the roof, he pushed away from her, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Little Jase is very unhappy right now.” He reached between them to rearrange himself. “If he dies from loss of blood circulation on the drive home, it’s your fault.”
“I’m sure he’ll recover,” she said drolly. “But if he makes it home without complaining, I’ll be very nice to him later.”
His gaze held hers captive as he smiled. “I’m really fucking glad you’re here.”
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up outside the end-terraced house with a bright blue door.
“Welcome home.” Jase stepped out of the car and hurried around the back to retrieve her tote and cases. “Alex has gone to crash with Ben for the night, so we have the place to ourselves.”
Home.
It was something they hadn’t thoroughly discussed, beyond the idea that she was opening a studio in Manchester and would stay with him while she got organised.
“I’m so tired I might fall over,” Cerys said.
When he opened the door, she was met with the scent of lemon. And cinnamon. The house was spotlessly clean and sparse, apart from a comfortable-looking grey sofa, a TV way too large for the room, and a large shelving unit near the door, which contained an array of percussion instruments and keyboards.