Rome was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming because he’d had this dream many times before. It varied slightly over the years but the basic crux of it was the same. However, knowing it was a dream didn’t stop the events from unfolding and it didn’t stop the heart-pounding, stomach-wrenching fear he felt every single time it happened.

He was standing in the main high street talking to Freya, the sun was shining, he could hear children laughing and playing, when suddenly he knew he was being watched. And, like in all good horror films, when he turned his head to see, there was a hooded cloaked figure. Death. The grim reaper had come to claim him.

Rome started to run, dragging Freya along with him in a desperate attempt to get away, but every time he looked over his shoulder, Death was getting closer and closer, seemingly with very little effort at all.

‘Run,’ he urged, panic gripping him, but Freya didn’t seem to see the urgency, she didn’t seem to see Death either. He kept on running but Death was closing on him with every step.

Death reached out to grab Rome’s arm and he quickly pushed Freya behind him out of harm’s reach. He tried to fight Death off but his grip was unrelenting as he dragged Rome away from Freya, dragged him away from his home and everything he loved so dearly. He fought as hard as he could but it was no use. In a last desperate bid to stop him, Rome pushed back the hood of the figure and, with sickening dread, stared into the dead eyes and mutilated body of Paige.

He woke with a jerk in the darkness and quickly leaned over and slammed on the bedside lamp.

He was alone in his bedroom and he lay back on his pillow and stared at the ceiling as he tried to slow his breathing back to normal.

His childhood had been plagued by these dreams. His gran had died when he was eight and he’d gone to her funeral, which had been open casket. He’d not been allowed in to see the body, instead waiting outside while everyone had gone in to pay their respects before the main service. But that hadn’t stopped him sneaking in while they all filed into the other room ready for the service. He’d stared at the dead body, finding it hard to fathom that his gran, who had been so full of life and spirit, was nothing more than this empty shell.

After the funeral, he’d had a weird fascination with death and did a lot of research on it, how different cultures celebrated the lives or mourned the loss. But the one thing that had stuck with him had been the figure of the grim reaper who came to collect the souls of the living.

For years after he would have nightmares of the grim reaper coming to take him away. He’d eventually grown out of it in his early teens. But after Paige had died, the dreams had returned. Same dreams but this time they always ended with Paige being the grim reaper that had come to take him away. In the dreams she was nothing more than this zombified corpse, horribly disfigured after the rollercoaster accident. He’d had them a lot after the accident – they had become less and less frequent over the years, but he still had them occasionally. Sometimes in the dreams, Paige came to take Eden or Bella or his parents away and Rome would try to hold onto them as Paige dragged them kicking and screaming away from him. There was nothing he could do to stop Paige from taking them.

He rubbed his face and sat up. There was no way he was going to get back to sleep now and he didn’t want to if the zombified face of his ex was waiting for him.

Poor Paige. She deserved better than to be remembered as a mutilated zombie. She had been beautiful and so sweet and kind.

He got out of bed, washed his face, got dressed and slipped out onto the moonlit hillside. The island lay in darkness, only the twinkling streetlights showing any sign of life at all. He walked down his small road and then cut down the steps onto Buttercup Beach. The inky water lapped gently on the sand and out on the horizon there was a thin glow of pink as the sun prepared to make its appearance.

He walked along the shoreline and as his eyes became accustomed to the dark he could pick out the bright pinpricks above him, which he knew were planets.

He walked the length of Buttercup Beach and sat down to watch the sun rise. Right on cue, a thin sliver of gold lit up the horizon and then slowly spread out across the sea and the clouds as it chased the nightmares away. It was going to be another glorious day.

His thoughts turned to Freya as they constantly did. She always filled his thoughts; before he went to sleep, when he woke up, she was always there.

He wanted to see her now, partly because just being with her made him feel so much better, but mostly because he wanted to check she was OK, which was completely irrational. It was a dream and he had been the one to get taken away by the grim reaper, not Freya.

He glanced over towards the row of houses that was the start of the high street and looked up to where he knew her flat was. To his surprise, he could see her light was on. Her window was so easy to spot as it was one he had made himself. Although it was mostly clear glass so it didn’t hinder the view, there were blue waves and a dolphin jumping out of the water at the bottom.

He scrambled up and walked up the steps to the high street and followed the little lane up to the door of her flat. He let himself in using his key and walked up the stairs. A feeling of contentment washed over him as soon as he stepped inside her flat – as if he was home, even though he’d never lived there. She was in the kitchen, singing to herself, and as he closed the door behind him, she poked her head out to see who it was. Her face erupted into a huge grin when she saw him. No questions or comments, no look of surprise at having him turn up in her home at six in the morning. He knew it wasn’t the first time but he wondered at what point it had become the norm for her.

‘I’m just making a hot chocolate, do you want one?’

‘Yes please.’

‘I have white chocolate or crème brûlée?’

He smiled. No ordinary hot chocolate for Freya Greene. ‘White chocolate would be great.’

She disappeared back into the kitchen and Rome followed her in. She was dressed only in a midnight-blue satin robe which finished several inches above her knee, revealing golden bare legs that he had a sudden desire to stroke. His mind was suddenly filled with the possibilities of what she was wearing under that robe.

She turned to face him and his eyes snapped back up to her face.

‘How come you’re up this early?’ Rome asked.

She shrugged. ‘I couldn’t sleep, thought I’d get up and watch the sun rise.’

‘Me too. I love it down on the beach at this time of the day, it’s so peaceful and quiet. I had weird dreams and I needed to blow them away in the early morning sea breeze.’

‘Yeah, I had weird dreams too.’ She handed him his hot chocolate and wandered out into the lounge. She sat down on the sofa and he sat down next to her. ‘What was yours about?’

Rome hesitated. There was no way he wanted Freya to know that he was having weird freaky dreams about the grim reaper taking him away or his dead ex, zombified and horribly disfigured. She would get up and run a million miles away from him. He gave an answer which he hoped was appropriate.

‘Paige.’

‘Oh.’ Freya was silent for a while. ‘You must miss her terribly.’

He thought about this because he really didn’t. Not any more. And what kind of horrible person did that make him? It had been six years but he knew people who had lost loved ones many years before Paige had died and they still missed them. He hadn’t known Paige for long, only just over eighteen months, but he had loved her. Well, at the time he thought he had, now he wasn’t so sure. He felt guilty about that. And he felt guilty that in his heart he knew he was ready to move on. He decided not to answer Freya’s question for fear of losing any kind of respect in Freya’s eyes.

‘What was your dream about?’ he asked.

‘Oh… nothing really. You were there. Some other people,’ Freya said, vaguely, and he got the sense she wasn’t happy talking about her dreams either.

They both took sips from their drinks and lapsed into an easy, contented silence. Rome put his drink down on the table for a moment as he got more comfortable on the sofa and noticed the book on the table. It was his. He always carried a book around with him even though he never got much chance to read at work. He loved non-fiction books, most of them were encyclopaedic in content, facts about sea creatures, animals, history of technology, space, weird cultures or traditions of the world. He loved learning little interesting facts about the world he lived in. His head was filled with completely worthless facts that weren’t at all useful to know but, on the rare occasion that he took part in the pub quizzes on the island, his team were almost always guaranteed to win.

He picked up the book, The Book of Love. ‘Are you reading this?’

Freya blushed a little. ‘It looked like it might be an interesting read. I’m more surprised that you’re reading it. You don’t strike me as a hearts and rainbows kind of person.’

He laughed. ‘This is not really a cutesy sparkles and puppies kind of book. This has loads of interesting facts about old wedding traditions and how different cultures around the world celebrate love. It’s very interesting.’

Freya turned to face him and curled her legs underneath her. ‘Tell me some of the interesting facts you’ve found out about love.’

‘Well in Finland, they have these wife-carrying championships, where the men will carry their wives or girlfriends over their shoulders while they have to complete an array of different challenges and obstacles. The champion wins their wife’s weight in beer.’

‘I love that. Carrying a really skinny wife means you’d get a lot less beer.’

‘That’s true, so not always a benefit. In Denmark they give snowdrops to their beloved instead of red roses.’

‘That’s so cool. I wonder why our culture chose roses instead.’

‘I’m sure I’ll find that out in the book. There’s so many facts in there.’

‘What else?’ Freya said, keenly, and he loved that she seemed to enjoy listening to these facts as much as he enjoyed finding them out.

‘Wales celebrate Valentine’s Day but they also celebrate St Dwynwen’s Day on January twenty-fifth. I’m sure I’m pronouncing her name wrong. She is the patron saint of lovers and traditionally men would give the women they love a spoon.’

Freya laughed. ‘How romantic.’

‘They were wooden hand-carved spoons, not just some old teaspoon.’

‘Oh that’s actually quite sweet.’

‘Yes, the Welsh have quite a few sweet traditions. The Chinese though, not so much. An engaged couple will dissect a chicken’s liver and, if it’s healthy, then it’s a good omen and they can set the date of their wedding.’

‘Ewww, nothing says love like a dissected chicken’s liver.’

‘I know. As I said, this book is not exactly cute.’

‘I love it, it’s so funny. And I love listening to you talk about these things, you get so passionate about your facts.’

He shrugged. ‘I’m a geek, I own that.’

‘And I love your geekery.’

He smiled with fondness for her. She never seemed to find him boring and he loved that about her.

She finished her drink and put it down on the table and stood up. ‘Well, I might try to go back to sleep for an hour or so, before I have to get up for work.’

Rome nodded. ‘I’ll probably go back home and try to do the same.’ He didn’t relish that thought. Here with Freya, he felt happy and content.

‘You can stay here if you want, rather than going all the way back home.’

Christ, what an invite. He scrambled to his feet quickly before she changed her mind.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked, softly, and for the briefest of seconds he saw confusion cross her face.

She nodded and walked into the bedroom and he followed her. God, he was suddenly nervous and he didn’t know why. They were just two friends who were going to share a bed together. But their friendship had never really been one that was particularly tactile. They didn’t really hug like she did with Eden and Bella and they’d certainly not done this before. She disappeared inside her walk-in wardrobe and he took off his shoes, jeans and t-shirt and got into bed.

She popped her head around the door holding what looked like a pillow. ‘Do you want—’ She stared at him sitting in her bed, her eyes wide for a second, before she seemingly threw the pillow back into the cupboard and hurried across the room so fast she nearly skidded into the wall. She ditched her robe, revealing tiny shorts and a little vest, and climbed into bed next to him and turned off the bedside light.

He lay there in the muted darkness as the pink glow of the early sunrise lit up the room. He frowned with confusion.

‘You meant stay on the sofa, didn’t you?’ Rome said and Freya burst out laughing into uncontrollable giggles.

‘Yes I did.’

‘Crap. I’m so sorry, I’ll go and sleep on the sofa.’

He made a move to get out of bed before Freya suddenly leaned across him, pinning him to the mattress with her weight. ‘Stay where you are. We’re friends, we can sleep in the same bed as each other without it being awkward.’

‘I think we’re already past that. I just got undressed and got into your bed.’

Freya giggled again. ‘It’s fine, go to sleep.’

She was still holding him down and he was suddenly hyperaware of her warm, beautiful body over his, her leg hooked over his thigh, her hand on his bare chest. If she moved her leg a few more inches higher, she was going to know how turned on he was and this was suddenly going to get a hell of a lot more awkward.

And now he was staying, surely she should let him go and move back onto her side of the bed, but she was showing no sign of moving.

There was no way in hell he was getting back to sleep now. He was so wired he was probably never getting back to sleep ever again. He didn’t think Freya was going to sleep any time soon either; her heart was hammering against her chest.

God, this was heaven and hell all at the same time.

If he was any other man, he would have rolled on top of her and, if she was willing, just started making love to her. He wanted that more than anything but this was Freya, his best friend. There was no way he was going to do anything to ruin that.

Though his body didn’t seem to agree. Quite without his permission, his hand snaked up to hold her back, his fingers caressing across her bare flesh, just above the top of her vest. That wasn’t safe. He slid his hand up further to cup the back of her neck, stroking her hair, echoing how he had held her after her fall off the roof.

‘And you’re sure this isn’t awkward?’

‘Not one bit.’ Her voice was high with tension. ‘Go to sleep.’

He closed his eyes and tried to think of anything other than the woman in his arms, though that still wasn’t going to help him go to sleep.

* * *

Freya woke a few hours later with the sun streaming through the window, her face resting on Rome Lancaster’s bare chest, his arms wrapped around her. She smiled; this was where she belonged.

She lifted her head slightly to look at him and saw he was fast asleep. He looked so beautiful and peaceful as he lay there sleeping, not plagued by the dreams that haunted him. Last night had not been the first time he had turned up at her flat in the early hours of the morning, as if somehow he felt safer being around her. She knew that he had bad dreams about Paige although he’d never gone into the specifics of it. To lose his fiancée in such awful circumstances must have been very traumatic for him, but sadly the nightmares were a sign that he probably wasn’t over her yet and maybe never would be.

She remembered her own dreams that had woken her up before Rome’s arrival and she couldn’t help but smile. She had dreamed about her wedding day to Rome too many times to count. It was silly, she knew that. The little looks and touches he had given her over the last few weeks and months indicated that perhaps he had some feelings for her but nothing to suggest that he was ready to get married to her or that he ever would be. But that hadn’t stopped her dreams from acting out that wonderful scenario, from the simple beach wedding surrounded by only a handful of family and friends, the pretty beach dress she would wear, and the way that Rome would look at her with absolute love in his eyes when she stepped up by his side. She knew it was crazy but she couldn’t simply turn those feelings off just because they were inappropriate.

She suddenly realised her cheek was wet and she looked down and realised there was a small patch of drool on Rome’s chest. Her heart leapt with horror. She never drooled in her sleep, why had her body decided that now was an opportune moment to start? She quickly tried to wipe it off with her fingers, realising, as she was doing it, that what she was actually doing was stroking his chest.

His eyelashes fluttered as his sleeping body registered what she was doing and unconsciously he shifted her tighter against him. And that’s when she realised where his hands was. One arm was tight around her back, the other hand was cupping her bum cheek. His hand wasn’t even over the top of her shorts, it had somehow slipped beneath the material and was holding onto her bare bum as if his life depended on it.

Freya suppressed a giggle, her body shuddering slightly as she tried to hold it in. Rome was the least likely person in the world to surreptitiously try to grab her arse. Where other men might pretend to be asleep in this situation while they ‘accidentally’ had a little squeeze, she knew Rome would never do that. He had been embarrassed enough a few hours before when he had misunderstood her offer to stay. He had been so awkward and mortified by it, she just wanted to hug him, which was how she’d ended up in this position in the first place.

She didn’t want Rome to wake up and be embarrassed, not least because it would reduce the chance of them ever sharing a bed again. She decided to get up and out of bed before he woke up fully and realised where his hand was.

She tried to extricate herself from his arms but he groaned softly and held her tighter.

‘Don’t go,’ he whispered, still clearly asleep.

He was probably dreaming about Paige and her heart ached for him and hurt for herself in equal measure. Would he always love his ex? Would he ever be able to get over her?

The worst thing was, she’d been here before. There had been three people in her relationship with Jake, her ex-fiancé. Lizzie was Jake’s best friend, ex-girlfriend, neighbour and the first person he had ever been in love with. Lizzie had been round their house every day and they were always very close. When Freya had questioned their relationship, Jake had insisted they were just friends, that he had got over her many years before and he simply wasn’t interested in Lizzie like that any more. Freya had believed it and even though she often felt like the third wheel in her own relationship as Jake and Lizzie shared all these little in-jokes and history, she had trusted him. Right up until she had walked in on them in bed together. She had been with Jake for eight years and in that time he had never gotten over his ex. He had never loved her as much as he loved Lizzie.

That day she had caught them was imprinted on her mind, walking in on him, clearly having way more fun than she’d seen him have before, moaning and shouting and the words she’d never forget.

‘It’s never this good with Freya,’ Jake had said.

Lizzie had laughed. ‘You have nice sex with Freya.’

‘Yes it’s nice. Sex with you is always incredible.’

That had hurt. Eight years and Jake had thought the sex was just nice. It had never been incredible for him. It had never been incredible for her either but as he had been her only boyfriend she had nothing else to compare it to. Sex always seemed to be over way too quickly and left her feeling mostly unsatisfied. But clearly the problem had been with her, not him, as Lizzie had been having a whale of a time.

There’d been no one for Freya since. Even the lovely Roberto she’d met on her holiday in Italy, who had been sexy, charming and attentive, hadn’t tempted her out of her dry patch. They’d flirted and chatted but one kiss had told her enough. And though she had made it seem more than it was when she’d got home in an attempt to provoke a reaction out of Rome, it had never gone further than that one kiss. She knew why she’d never taken it any further: she had fallen in love with Rome and Roberto simply wasn’t him. Also, there was a small part of her that didn’t want anyone else to be disappointed by sleeping with her the way Jake had been. But was she a fool waiting around for Rome, hoping that one day he would get over his ex and fall in love with her instead? She had never been enough for Jake, why would she be enough for Rome? And if he was still dreaming about Paige it didn’t look like he would be ready to move on any time soon.

Suddenly she experienced a moment of doubt and fear. With Jake she had allowed herself to wrap her whole life around his, living in his house, socialising with his friends, working for him, and though she had vowed she would never let it happen again, she had done the same thing with Rome. How had she found herself in this position again? Her job with Rome was only ever meant to be a temporary thing but then she had fallen in love with him, the island, his family, and she’d never wanted to leave. She never realised before that she was making the same mistake twice. If she gave up on Rome now, she would lose everything all over again.

She sighed and tried to move again as Rome’s eyes fluttered open. He blinked in confusion for a second and then when he saw her his face erupted into a huge grin.

‘It’s been a long time since I’ve woken up with a beautiful woman in my arms.’

Her heart soared at that wonderfully innocent comment.

‘God, I slept so well,’ Rome said.

‘I slept really well too,’ Freya said. Clearly too well if she had been drooling on him in her sleep.

‘We’ll have to make this a regular thing,’ he joked and she resisted saying that she would love to.

He stretched beneath her then suddenly stilled, his face frozen in horror as he clearly realised where his hand was.

She bit her lip as she tried to suppress her smile, wondering how he was going to play this one. To her surprise, he still didn’t remove his hand, clearly wondering if she had noticed.

‘What time is it?’

Freya smirked. She wasn’t wearing a watch so she’d have to sit up to see the time on the clock across the room. She obliged and as she moved he ever so casually let his hand slip out from her shorts.

She snorted and then turned the snort into a cough. ‘It’s just coming up for nine.’

‘Well, we have a ton of work to do today so we better get going,’ Rome said and she turned back to look at him, still trying to hide her laughter. ‘You knew it was there, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, you pervert,’ she teased.

His cheeks flushed red. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t know how that happened.’

‘I do.’ She stretched and then got out of bed. ‘You clearly couldn’t keep your hands off me, Rome Lancaster.’

He laughed and rolled on his side, the sheet just above his waist. There was no finer sight than Rome Lancaster lying half naked in her bed. ‘Well fair’s fair, next time you can grab my arse instead.’

She laughed. ‘In that case, I’ll look forward to it.’