I don’t think...I still can’t think...’
‘Of course you can’t.’ He held her still. ‘But for now, for this moment, let’s take things as they come. Let our bodies remember why we fell in love. Let’s start at the beginning and let things happen.’
And then he kissed her, and that kiss made her forget every other thing. Everything but Rob.
Water was streaming over them. Somehow they managed to stop, pull back, give themselves time to haul their clothes off and toss them out, a sodden, stained puddle to be dealt with later.
Everything could be dealt with later, Julie thought hazily as she turned back to her beautiful naked Rob. For now there was only Rob. There was only this moment.
Water was running in rivulets down his beautiful face, onto his chest, lower. He was wet and glistening and wonderful. His hands were on the small of her back, drawing her into him, and the feel of wet hands on wet skin was indescribably erotic.
For now there was no pain. There was no yesterday. There was only this man, this body. There was only this desire and the only moment that mattered was now.
* * *
‘You think we should have a nap now, too?’ Rob asked.
Somehow they were out of the shower, sated, satisfied, dazed.
Maybe she should make that almost satisfied, Julie thought. Rob was drying her. She was facing the mirror, watching him behind her. The feel of the towel was indescribably delicious.
He pressed her down onto the bathroom stool and started drying her hair. Gently. Wonderfully.
If she could die now, she’d float to heaven. She was floating already.
‘If we go anywhere near the bed I can’t be held responsible for what happens,’ she managed and Rob chuckled. Oh, she remembered that chuckle. She’d forgotten how much she’d missed it.
How much else had she forgotten?
Had she wanted to forget...all of it?
‘Maybe you’re right. But maybe it’s worth not being responsible,’ Rob growled. ‘But I want to see your hair dry first.’
Her hair. She’d had colour foils put in. Every woman in her right senses regarded the removing of colour foils with trepidation, hoping the colour would work. For some reason Julie had forgotten all about it.
‘It looks good wet,’ Rob said, stooping and kissing her behind her ear. ‘Let’s see it dry.’
She tried to look at it in the mirror. Yeah, well, that was a mistake. Rob was right behind her and he was naked. How was a woman to look at her hair when her hairdresser was...Rob?
‘I...I can do it,’ she tried but he was already hauling the hairdryer from the cabinet. This place was a time warp. Everything had simply been left. It had been stupid, but coming back here four years ago had been impossible. She’d simply abandoned everything...which meant she had a hairdryer.
And, stupid or not, that had its advantages, she decided, as Rob switched on the dryer and directed warm air at her hair. As did the solar panels he’d installed on the roof and the massive bank of power batteries under the house.
They had electricity, and every cent they’d paid for such a massive backup was worth it just for this moment. For the power of one hairdryer.
She couldn’t move. Her body seemed more alive than she could remember. Every nerve was tingling, every sense was on fire but she couldn’t move. She was paralysed by the touch of his hands, by the warmth of the dryer, by the way he lifted each curl and twisted and played with it as he dried it.
By the way he watched her in the mirror as he dried.
By the way he just...was.
He was lighting her body.
He was also lighting her hair. Good grief, her hair...
It was almost dry now, and the colours were impossible to ignore. They were part of the same magical fantasy that was this moment, but these colours weren’t going to go away with the opening of the bathroom door.
What had happened?
She’d bought auburn highlights, but what Amina had done... She must have mixed them in uneven strengths, done something, woven magic...because what had happened was magic.
Her mousey-blonde hair was no longer remotely mouse. It was a shiny mass of gold and chestnut and auburn. It was like the glowing embers of a fire, flickering flames on a muted background.
Rob was lifting her curls, watching the light play on them as he made sure every strand was dry. Her hair felt as if it was their centre. Nothing else mattered.
If only nothing else mattered. If only they could move on from this moment, forgetting everything.
But she didn’t want to forget. The thought slammed home and she saw Rob’s eyes in the mirror and knew the thought had slammed into him almost simultaneously. They always had known what each other was thinking.
One mind. One body.
‘Jules, we could try again,’ he said softly, almost as if talking to himself. ‘We’ve done four years of hell. Does it have to continue?’
‘I don’t see how it can’t.’
‘We don’t have to forget. Going forward together isn’t a betrayal. Does it hurt, every time you look at me, because of what we had?’
‘No. Yes!’
‘I’ve seen a shrink. There I was, lying on a couch, telling all.’ He smiled down at her and lifted a curl, then letting it drop. ‘Actually, it was a chair. But the idea’s the same. I’m shrunk.’
‘And what did he...she...tell you?’
‘She didn’t tell me anything. She led me round and round in circles until I figured it out. But finally I did. Four people weren’t killed that day, though they can be if we let them.’
‘You can live...without them?’
‘There’s no choice, Jules,’ he said, his voice suddenly rough. ‘Look at us. It’s Christmas, our fourth Christmas without them, yet it’s all about two little boys who are no longer here. Out there is a little boy who’s alive and who needs us to make him happy. We can help Amina be happy, at least for the day. We can do all sorts of things, make all sorts of people happy if we forget we’re the walking dead.’
‘I’m not...’
‘No. You’re not the walking dead. Look at your hair. This is fun hair, fantastic hair, the hair of a woman who wants to move forward. And look at your body. It’s a woman’s body, Jules, your body, and it gives you pleasure. It still can give you pleasure. Maybe it could even give you another child.’
‘No!’
‘Are you so closed?’
‘Are
