Chrissie, Jess and Harry waved off their visitors at the airport, Valentina, still pale and weak, thanking them all for taking such good care of her and her father. 

‘I really would love to see you in Rio,’ Raphael had whispered, as he’d planted a kiss on each of Chrissie’s cheeks. 

‘It’s a lovely offer, but I don’t think I’ll be taking you up on it,’ she’d replied. 

‘You don’t know what you’re missing,’ he’d said with a wink. 

Chrissie, though, knew perfectly well what she was missing: candles, homemade meatballs and a certain duffel-coated birdwatcher.

But she’d have to carry on missing them, because not only was the certain duffel-coated birdwatcher in a relationship with a beautiful blonde, he was also probably off to Guatemala soon.   

 

‘Who’s been eating the After Eight Mints?’ Chrissie demanded that afternoon. 

‘Not me,’ retorted Harry.  ‘They’re rank.’

‘Too sickly,’ agreed Jess.  ‘They’re the only chocolates I don’t like.’

‘Well, somebody must have eaten them.  The box is half-empty.’

‘Must be the ghost,’ chortled Jess, just as the doorbell rang. 

It was Olly.

In his duffel coat. 

The combination of which set off a furious fluttering of butterflies in Chrissie’s stomach. 

‘Can I, um, have a word?’ he asked sheepishly. 

‘Of course,’ she said, doing her best to act normally.  ‘Come on in.’

He smiled his thanks, stepping inside and following her down the hall to the living room. 

‘How are you?  Did you enjoy the party?’ she enquired, when they’d reached their destination.

‘Yes,’ he replied, closing the door behind him.  ‘You?’

‘It was fun,’ said Chrissie, heart rate increasing as she wondered what this “word” might be about if it needed to take place behind closed doors.  ‘And nice to meet Diana.  How is she?’

‘She… she left yesterday.  Gone down to London for a few weeks before heading off to Brazil again.’

‘Oh.  That’s nice.  Dolphins?’

He nodded.  ‘I think she’s planning to meet up with Raphael while she’s out there too.’

Chrissie quirked a brow.  He sounded remarkably cool about his gorgeous girlfriend meeting up with the equally gorgeous Raphael.  But she was about to discover why.   

‘Actually, we’ve decided to call it a day,’ he informed her, pulling a face and shuffling his feet. 

Chrissie’s heart began furiously thudding. So much so, that a feeble ‘Oh,’ was all she could manage in response.  After all, just because he was now free and single, didn’t mean he’d want anything to do with her. 

‘We had a long chat and realised we wanted different things.’

She nodded, wishing she had the teeniest inkling where the conversation might be heading. 

‘Well,’ she piped up, in far too cheery a tone, ‘I’m sure there’ll be lots of other lovely researchers out in Guatemala.’

He shrugged.  ‘Possibly.  One of them might even take my place.  Because I’m not going.’

Chrissie’s breath caught in her throat.  ‘No funding?’ she choked out, not daring to hope there might be another reason.

‘No desire.  At least not for the trip.’

At the look he shot her following that declaration, Chrissie’s knees almost caved. 

He closed the gap between them, taking her hand in his, with the same firm, gentle grip he’d used when tending her finger. 

‘I’ve decided,’ he began, brown eyes burning into hers, ‘that I’ve done enough gallivanting.  And that, having spent time on Lovelace Lane and seen how happy my brother and his wife are, I’d like to put down roots too.  Which is why I’ve accepted a teaching post.  At Newcastle University.’

‘That’s… nice,’ squeaked Chrissie, decidedly light-headed as he rubbed his thumb against her wrist and she watched his lips moving. Lips that looked even more kissable than usual. 

‘And as a little bird tells me spring here is rather nice,’ he continued, ‘I thought I’d hang around a bit longer.’

Chrissie smiled, suspecting she did now know the direction the conversation was heading: exactly the direction she’d hoped.  ‘And would that little bird be the yellow-bottomed—?’

‘Yellow-rumped warbler.  Except there is no yellow-rumped warbler.’

‘But I thought you said—’

‘I did.  And I thought it was.  When I first looked at it through steamed-up specs.  But it was actually just a common or garden goldfinch.’ 

She puckered her brow.  ‘So why did you keep coming—?’

‘Into your garden?  To see you, of course.’

She giggled.  ‘Really?  That was a bit naughty.’

‘Naughty.  But very, very nice,’ he whispered, lowering his lips to hers, at exactly the same time two After Eight Mint wrappers fluttered across the floor and the room filled with the scent of parma violets.