We were in a confusing but beautiful place, trapped in silent battle that I was happy to fight. We had moved forward slightly, the push and pull of, I won’t let you get too close because you’re leaving, and, I’m scared that ultimately you can’t give me what I need, easing as the days passed us by.

We fell into a pattern of spending our evenings together. Drew would usually cook and then read with his feet up in my reading chair as I tried to accomplish my daily word-count goal. He would run me a bath, read to me as I soaked my weary body, ending the evening lost inside each other, waking to enjoy it all over again before we even thought about breakfast.

‘You ready?’ Drew asked as he put his book down and pulled off his glasses. I loved to write as he was sprawled out across the sofa. Knowing he was reading behind me, relaxed, lost in a literary world, made me work a little harder.

‘Ready,’ I replied, swivelling on the chair to face him. The movement caused Archie to sit up, excitement pouring from him as he bounded towards me. ‘Are you ready for a walk, handsome?’ I glanced at Drew who was smiling, a look of, Who is this goddess? streaked across his face. I felt adored when he looked at me like that. Worthy. It also made me feel like we had a chance.

‘Have you made a list? Know what you want? Mum always missed an essential part of the Christmas dinner because she winged it at the supermarket on Christmas Eve, abandoning the trolley for a basket when she saw the queues. I lost count of the times we’d have to survive without cranberry sauce.’

‘Cranberry sauce isn’t essential,’ I said, putting on my coat.

‘Well, there was the year she forgot the gravy.’

‘Oh, no,’ I replied.

‘Yep. Turkey’s hard going on the throat without a bit of moisture to help it down.’

‘Brian has given me his fail-safe recipe. Apparently, the trick is to sit the bird on a bed of root vegetables with a little bit of water. Makes it moist. It’s all in the steam.’

‘Who knew?’ he deadpanned as he put on Archie’s lead and we set off to the farm shop.

I’d called Brian earlier in the week and asked him to save me a turkey. I wanted to cook Christmas dinner for Drew as a thank you for everything he’d done for me over the last few weeks. Drew joked that he didn’t want to spend Christmas Day with food poisoning when I told him I’d never cooked a turkey before. I’d cooked a chicken and surely a turkey was just a chunkier version—how hard could it be? I got Brian to give me the low down on how to cook the bird thoroughly without the need for a trip to A&E and agreed I’d pick it up on Christmas Eve—I can’t believe it’s Christmas Eve—along with all the other essentials needed for a traditional Christmas dinner. We timed it with Archie’s walk, a favourite part of my day because it felt so…normal. A routine. A structure. Domesticated. Something a committed couple would do. He held my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world and I tricked myself into thinking it was.

Costentyn was peaceful. The air was crisp and fresh. The smell of the sea always a breeze away. I pulled my scarf closer around my neck, smiling as Drew watched me. He was doing that more often. Taking me in. Admiring. Cherishing the moments we had left.

Archie leapt forward, pulling us along when he saw an older lady struggling with taking her bags of shopping up the few steps and along the path to the front door of her cottage.

‘Hold up, Mrs Temple. I’ll give you a hand,’ Drew said, passing Archie’s lead to me as he went to help her.

‘Drew! Oh, thank you. You’re a gentleman,’ she said, straightening up and steadying herself on her walking stick. She must have been in her eighties and was grappling with the shopping like a champ. ‘I always buy too much. It must be the gluttony in me.’

‘What else is Christmas for? If you can’t treat yourself at this time of year there’s something wrong,’ Drew replied, smiling. Mrs Temple turned to me, an even brighter smile appearing.

‘Is this Cal?’ she asked as I offered my hand.

‘This is Cal,’ he replied, losing himself in me before Archie bounded forward, dragging me with him. All Mrs Temple could hear was my yelp. Drew called Archie back and he followed the command immediately. Obedient for Drew only. Much like me.

‘I’ve heard so much about you, dear. I got a copy of your book from Brian. Ooh-wee, the bedroom was hot last night.’

‘Oh. Excellent, Mrs Temple. So glad to hear it’s keeping things interesting for you,’ I replied, trying not to laugh as Drew mouthed, Jesus, and very quickly carried the bags up to her front step.

‘You keep writing, dear. I’m onto your second already,’ she winked.

‘Merry Christmas,’ Drew said, taking her arm and walking her to her door in an attempt to end the conversation. We saw her safely inside and carried on walking, Drew chuckling beside me.

‘You’re like a one-woman sex clinic,’ he said. ‘They should be handing out your books instead of Viagra. It would save the NHS thousands.’

‘I’m glad to hear it’s helping her relationship. Isn’t it fantastic that she still has a healthy sex life at her age?’

‘Mrs Temple’s husband died five years ago,’ Drew replied seriously.

‘Oh. Oh,’ I said as Drew grimaced, images of an eighty-year-old enjoying herself, too much to contemplate.

We carried on walking in silence. Our smiles remaining, only getting deeper when we caught each other’s glances.

‘I like your pin.’ He pointed to the badge on my coat. It was a bright pink with The Book Was Better written in black.

‘My friend Melissa sent it. She’s an author, so we exchange book-themed gifts. It came yesterday. Just in time for Christmas.’

‘Books are always better,’ Drew said.

‘Yes, but when they make mine into a mini-series for the BBC, I’ll slide it to the back of my sock drawer.’

‘You have big ambitions.’

‘Of course! Why wouldn’t I? You should always have a dream.’

‘Isn’t that a Disney quote?’

‘Probably. Disney is the quote bomb.’

‘Agreed. Hakuna matata,’ he deadpanned. ‘So, how’s the book coming along?’

‘Good.’

‘Just good?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I know the words have dried up, but bloody hell you’re hard work today,’ Drew laughed.

‘Sorry. I’m thinking about a scene that isn’t quite pulling together. It feels like something’s missing, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.’

‘Is it your characters? The plot? Have you come to a dead end?’

‘I know my characters. They’re the first place I start when I’m plotting. I write their bios, CVs, job references. I think about what restaurant they would choose to go to, what their final meal would be, how they treat their parents, friendships, personality traits until I know them so well, they feel like friends.’

‘That’s dedication,’ he replied.

‘I have to know them to write their story. How can I do them justice if I don’t?’

‘Makes sense,’ he said, smiling. ‘You’ll work it out. Have you planned the ending yet?’

‘No. I wish I knew how their story is going to end.’

Drew squeezed my hand tighter, dropping it to pull me into him. I wrapped my hands around his waist, melted into the gentle sweeps of his thumb against my cheeks.

‘I wish I knew too,’ he replied before we lost ourselves in a kiss.

‘Romances have to have a happily ever after,’ I whispered against his skin, kissing his neck, understanding why I didn’t feel so cold anymore. I was wrapped in him.

‘That’s why they’re fantasies. A place to get lost once in a while.’

‘What a wonderful place to be,’ I replied, teasing his mouth with mine.

‘Fantasy and imagination always are,’ he said, taking my mouth. The kiss was deep and searching, and when the world finally stopped spinning, I touched my lips, my fingers pressing the flesh, knowing that after his kiss, my mouth would always belong to him. ‘Can we go home now?’ he asked, breathy and full of want. ‘I don’t care about food. Christmas dinner can wait until next year.’ We pressed our heads together and everything else slipped away, and it was just us, in a good place and forgetting about our fears. Why did we fear this? I’d forgotten—hoped he had too. What we had was destined to be enjoyed, meant to be devoured. Rejoiced in. Cherished.

‘I was beginning to think you two had been swept away by the tides and I’d find Karensa under water, consumed by the sea. But it looks like you’ve been consumed by something else.’ We broke apart to find Brian hanging out the window of a battered old Land Rover, the paint long since peeled off, and a door a different shade of rust to the rest. He winked at Drew, smiled at me and threw a thumb into the back of the car. ‘Get in, lovebirds. I have your Christmas feast waiting.’

‘Hi, sweetheart! Happy Christmas Eve!’

Mum was balancing the phone and a drink. She wasn’t great at Skyping at the best of times, but a slightly tipsy, incapacitated Mum was even worse.

‘Happy Christmas. It looks like you’ve got the party started early.’

‘We’re about to go to a Christmas hot tub party, so I can’t chat.’ I wasn’t sure what kind of cruise they were on, but sign me up for next year. ‘How’s the sexy woodcutter?’

‘Shush,’ I said, my hands wafting across my mouth. ‘He’s here.’ Drew appeared behind me, dropping himself onto the sofa. I turned to see him smirking.

‘Have you invited him for dinner?’ she asked in a sort of whisper-shout that did nothing to hide what she was trying to say.

‘Yes.’

‘She won’t be lonely this Christmas,’ she shouted to someone I presumed was Dad. She flashed his face on the camera and I’m sure I spotted a thumbs up.

‘Talk soon, Mum. Enjoy your party and Happy Christmas.’

‘Happy Christmas, sweetheart.’

I felt a hand on my lower back, a kiss to my neck. Drew pulled my sweater down one shoulder, exposing me, planting another kiss there. I gasped, my head dropping back as I enjoyed the moment more than I ever had with another man. Drew did something to me. Sparks ignited with just a brush of his hand against my skin. A firm pull of my clothes and a kiss to my collarbone had me all kinds of hot.

‘Sexy woodcutter,’ he said, trailing his finger across the dip of my shoulder. ‘Is that me?’

‘Sexy everything,’ I moaned as his tongue danced against my skin. Little flicks and deep kisses followed.

‘Sexy fool,’ he replied, his kisses didn’t stop.

‘You’re not a fool,’ I said, reaching my arms behind him, moaning as his hand slid down my sweater to my breast. A small squeeze thrilled me. A firm grasp made me fall. His finger traced the edge of the lace that covered me like he couldn’t wait to get it out of the way, to hold my naked breast in his hand without barriers. He hooked his finger in and pulled down the cup, circling his fingertip across my swollen nipple.

‘You make me feel off kilter. Make me question myself.’ A pinch made me shout out. ‘What am I going to do about that?’

‘Listen,’ I gasped as he rolled the stiff peek between his fingers.

‘Tell me you want me.’

‘You know I do.’

‘Tell me,’ he rasped.

‘I want all of you.’

‘You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’ He pulled the chair around in one swoop, turning me to face him. His hands spread my legs apart swiftly and as he got down on his knees, he leant into my thighs, my groin, my…oh God. ‘I want to kiss your mouth when I’m inside you.’ He inhaled. His head still against me, the pressure starting the thud of a pulse, the pounding of desire, harsh flutters of need.

‘Take me to bed,’ I whispered.

His head lifted, his gaze burning mine. He pulled me forward by my thighs, his fingers working to unbutton my jeans, sliding my underwear across and into my centre. ‘Cal,’ he rasped, his face serious. He closed his eyes, pressed his mouth together opening it slightly as his finger moved inside of me. I gripped his neck, pulled him into me, raked my hands through his hair. ‘Fuck, Cal…I need you more than you’ll ever know.’

‘Take me.’

He lifted me up, moaning as I wrapped my legs around him, panting as our mouths crashed together. He climbed the stairs, his hands gripping me, the kiss matching his pressure before he placed me down on the steps, yanking my jeans down with me, my underwear hanging on one hip, the other side exposing the strip of hair that was fascinating him. His finger slid down the curls, another inhale, another moan.

‘I don’t want to fuck you on the stairs,’ he said, his finger sliding inside me. ‘You mean more. Deserve more. Worship. Idolisation. Fucking devotion.’ I arched my back, raising my pussy to his mouth. He kissed me there, and my reservations fell away. ‘Kiss my cock.’

I grappled with his jeans, tugging them down to his knees, unable to get them further as he straddled the stairs. His boxers followed, allowing his huge erection to spring free. I held it in my hands, relishing the feel, amazed that he was hard, just for me, that I had caused the swelling and the rush. I wrapped my lips around the crown and slid him inside my mouth, inch by perfect inch, teasing the head, flicking my tongue around the veins, deeper and deeper with every one of his moans.

‘Cal. Fuck. I can’t let you go.’ I slipped him out of my mouth, my lips full and plump as he watched himself leave my throat. With his hands on my cheeks, he lifted my face and slowly licked my bottom lip. I had never wanted a man more. ‘My future fucking longs for you.’

‘I thought you couldn’t promise me a future. That you’ve been hurt, can’t give me more. Do you remember saying that?’

He pushed my leg against my chest, exposing my pussy, opening it wider and watching like it was the most precious thing in the world. His hand moved to my throat, gentle yet rough, asking me to join him in this moment of ecstasy. This piece of exhilaration. Claiming me, finally claiming me, before he opened himself to me and said, ‘Make me forget.’