Parental Approval
Three Months Later – A Saturday in December
‘I DON’T KNOW WHY you’re so nervous. It’s not like you haven’t met them before,’ I reminded Weston as he sped down the country lanes of Cheshire for our overnight visit to my parents’ house.
‘It was only the once, Georgie. We barely exchanged more than a few pleasantries when we shook hands as I was introduced to them. And after you slinking into the lounge wearing clothes intended to seduce me and nearly giving them heart failure, they avoided us for the rest of the evening.’
‘Well, they’ve had time to calm down and get used to the fact that we’re a couple. I’m sure they’ll have forgotten all about it by now,’ I replied, not entirely believing my response, but wanting to try and reassure him.
He’d been on edge from the moment he’d picked me up this morning. ‘Is it leaving Bertie behind, is that what’s wrong?’
‘What?’ he asked, flicking a quick look across at me.
‘There’s something wrong, I know there is, so don’t say there isn’t. My parents have dogs, they wouldn’t have minded Bertie coming with us. And I kind of miss him. You haven’t brought him over that much lately, not since the river incident. Do you blame me for what happened?’
‘Blame you? No, of course not.’
‘Then what’s going on?’ I demanded, certain he was holding something back. ‘You know that I don’t like secrets in a relationship, not after the whole nightmare with Greg. Turn left here.’
‘Nothing’s going on,’ he huffed as he slowed the car down. ‘I had a late night with clients last night and it was a really early start for the long journey from me to you, then driving up here. Forgive me for being anxious about making a good impression after the way our first meeting went.’
‘You have nothing to worry about,’ I replied, softening my tone and putting my hand over his on the gearstick. ‘If I’m happy, they’ll be happy.’
‘Right,’ he grated out as he pulled left and the large black wrought iron gates that guarded my parents’ drive appeared in our path, the double-fronted Georgian mansion visible down the avenue of trees. ‘Look at this place. There’s no way they’re going to think I’m good enough for you.’
‘Weston,’ I chastised, swallowing a ball of anxiety. He’d hit my fears on the head with his scarily accurate observation. As far as I was concerned, he was good enough for me, but I just had a feeling that when the matter of his job came up, a topic I’d deftly avoided each time it had been raised in phone conversations, I was going to see the look of disappointment on both of my parents’ faces. ‘We’re happy and in love, that’s all that matters. You need to press the buzzer and announce yourself. They won’t recognise the car on the security feed.’
‘I bet they employ bloody butlers or security guards as well,’ he muttered as he pressed the button for the driver’s window to go down.
‘Actually no, but so what if they did?’ I bit back, a little annoyed to feel judgement coming from him. I expected it from my parents, but not Weston. ‘I won’t apologise for having parents who are self-made and happen to enjoy the financial trappings that come with that. You’re dating me, not them.’
‘And I know what expectations they’ve laid on you over the years, Georgie. I’m pretty sure that I won’t meet their benchmark for approval, unlike Greg. Are you going to be happy to continue seeing a guy that your parents hate?’
‘For goodness sake,’ I muttered through gritted teeth. ‘Have I ever given you reason to doubt that you’re enough for me? No. So press the damn buzzer. I’m not having an argument over your insecurities right now. They’re expecting us for brunch and I don’t want to be late.’
‘Good morning, Sir. It’s Weston Argent with Georgie,’ he stated flatly when my father’s voice rang out over the speaker system.
‘Come on in,’ Dad replied. There was a clunking sound and the gates slowly started to open as Weston closed his window and flashed a look my way. I raised my eyebrows as I waited for him to say something.
‘Sorry, I just … it’s important they like me, Georgie. I don’t want their opinion of me getting in the way of our relationship.’
‘I’ve already told you that they’re embarrassingly elitist and opinionated, and apologised in advance for anything they say that may cause offence. I can’t change them, Weston, just as they can’t change me or my feelings for you, regardless of what they think. I love you as a man, because you’re dependable, honest, loving, kind, and protective, and because my heart won’t let me not love you. Your job doesn’t come into how I feel about you. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with being a personal trainer. If my dad is looking for someone with strength of character, the fact that you were in the Army should be enough to reassure him that you’re a good man.’
‘And that’s what worries me,’ he sighed, running a hand up and over his face as he crawled up the gravel drive, flanked by the imposing old oak trees. ‘You know I don’t like to talk about that, not even with you. People find out and they want to know all about it, what it was like, and I … I just can’t, Georgie. I can’t.’
‘Weston, stop the car,’ I demanded. His breathing was coming hard and fast and there were beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. He looked as if he was about to have a panic attack. ‘Stop the car right now,’ I repeated forcefully, my hand moving to hover over the handbrake in case he didn’t do as he was told. I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he drew to a gentle stop.
‘Georgie,’ he whispered, both of his hands gripping the steering wheel. I unbuckled my seat belt and said a silent thank you that I was in my jeans as I scrambled awkwardly over the centre console and forced my way onto his lap, the steering wheel pressing hard into my back as I clasped his face.
‘No one’s going to make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about, Weston,’ I said softly.
‘I’m going to come across as a complete wimp if I have to say why I don’t want to talk about it.’ His eyes were beseeching me to let him turn the car around and head home. I hated that I’d not thought this through or been sensible enough to have imagined what a big deal this would be for him.
‘No one who’s seen action like you have can ever be described as a wimp, Weston. And you have the medals to prove it. I can’t imagine anyone coming out of serving their country without some mental battle scars, even if they don’t have physical ones, so there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m so proud of you, and you deal with it so well that I barely even remember you were diagnosed with PTSD. That’s my failing. Despite you being so strong, it should be in the back of my mind all of the time. I should have been more aware of potential stressors like this.’ I kissed his forehead as I let out a sigh, his arms banding tightly around me and his face immediately burying into my neck as he tried to calm his erratic breathing and heartbeat, which I could feel strongly pumping against my chest.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly, making me screw up my face in annoyance that he obviously felt he’d somehow let me down.
‘Don’t be. I’m at fault here. How do you want me to handle it?’
‘I don’t. It’s up to me. I just, I should have thought about what I’d say sooner, but I’ve been putting it off.’
‘Why don’t you just say what you did to me in Mexico, or to my friends when they’ve asked? That what you did was highly classified and it’s not something you’re able to talk about, and you’d appreciate their understanding. No one can complain at that response.’
‘I guess. I just, I wish I could be honest for once in my life. I don’t like hiding a part of myself from you, Georgie, or your parents. I’m sick of keeping secrets. I hate that you’ve laid yourself bare to me, that you’ve given me all of you and I’ve not done the same.’ His voice cracked, that crack almost making its way through the walls of my heart as it ached at his private torture. I gently ran my fingers through his hair to soothe him as I spoke.
‘I’m not leaving you because you can’t share a deeply personal and painful period of your life with me, Weston. I’m not her. You’ve been honest from the start that you might never be able to talk to me about what you experienced and how it affected you, and I accepted that. Would I love for you to feel you can open up and let me try and help heal you? Of course I would. But there’s no expectations or judgement on my part. I love you as you are. Your pain isn’t a flaw to me, and I don’t want you to think of it as one either.’
I kissed the top of his head, hating myself for lying to him. I made it sound like it was easy to accept that he’d never share that part of his life with me and it wasn’t. It was far from easy. It took a constant concerted effort not to try and tempt him to talk about it when I saw him drifting into one of his quiet and contemplative moods, to understand that it wasn’t personal that he felt unable to share his thoughts and feelings with me the way I wanted to share everything with him. But I’d made a promise that I wouldn’t become her, that I wouldn’t nag him or hold it against him when he didn’t offer what I wanted, and it was a promise I was determined not to break.
‘Are you feeling a bit better?’ I asked a few minutes later, once I noticed his breathing and heart rate had regulated.
‘Yes, thank you. And I’m–’
‘Don’t you dare apologise again, Weston,’ I quickly interrupted. ‘You never need to apologise for how you feel. Not with me. Understood?’
‘Understood,’ he breathed against my neck. His kiss was firm and warm against my neck and made me let out a soft moan of pleasure as my skin prickled with delight. ‘Christ, don’t start with those breathy moans when you’re in my lap. We’re late now and I don’t want to turn up with an erection after the embarrassment of the last meeting.’
‘Sorry,’ I mumbled, my cheeks flaming as I tried to extricate myself, only to find we were firmly wedged.
‘Stop wriggling, Georgie, you’re asking for trouble,’ he groaned, flopping his head back against the headrest.
‘Well, move the seat back so I can get out of your lap fast.’
‘I can’t reach the lever under the chair, your legs are in the way.’
‘Suck everything in and I’ll try and lift myself up,’ I suggested, gripping the seat on either side of his shoulders to try to get some leverage so I could push myself up onto my knees. I flexed my hips from side to side in an effort to ease myself up, making the car shudder from the movement.
‘Suck everything in? What are you trying to say? I worked damn hard for this six-pack,’ he laughed.
‘And it’s much appreciated, but I need a few more inches please.’
‘Georgie. For God’s sake, stop with the sexual innuendos and wriggling.’
‘I can’t help it, I’m well and truly wedged,’ I moaned, gritting my teeth as the steering wheel dug mercilessly into my back. I was going to have bruises by the time I got out of here.
‘Ok, I’ll grip your bottom and try and lift you up while you push yourself up, ok?’ he suggested.
‘Do it, because I’m failing miserably here,’ I observed. ‘Oh, hello sailor,’ I giggled as I felt something else rising to the occasion.
‘For God’s sake,’ Weston muttered, flopping his head forward into my chest. ‘It’s got a mind of its own. And it was attached to an Army captain, not a Navy officer.’
‘I hope he’s still attached. Well, he’s standing to attention, whatever force he served in. Come on, push harder.’
‘I’m trying. It’s not exactly easy from this position.’
‘You can do it,’ I coaxed, as I pulled a face while trying to help. ‘Harder, Weston, harder!’
‘Any harder and it’s liable to detonate,’ he grunted, pulling his head back, his face contorted in a grimace as he struggled to lift as I pushed.
‘What’s liable to–’ I shrieked as I was thrust tightly forward, pinning Weston’s head against his head rest and suffocating him with my breasts as something enveloped me from behind with a loud hiss. I just managed to tilt my head to the left before my cheek was slammed against the edge of the headrest.
‘Air bag,’ mumbled Weston from somewhere between the mounds of my boobs. A loud rap on the window made me shriek again, and I opened my eyes to see a rather perturbed Dad standing at the side of the car, not quite sure what he was witnessing.
‘What exactly are you doing, Georgie?’
‘Stopping … breathing,’ came Weston’s disembodied voice as he struggled to remove his face from my chest, but the air bag had me pinned firmly against him.
‘Ermmm, definitely not what it looks like, Dad. Can you open the door and help me out? Weston’s finding it hard to breathe.’
‘I can imagine,’ Dad responded dryly as he tried the handle. ‘It’s locked.’
‘Shit,’ I muttered, my heart starting to canter as panic settled in. ‘What? What did you say?’ I asked as Weston mumbled something.
‘Ben … nerf. Ack rocket.’
‘That makes no sense at all,’ I wailed. ‘Dad, do something, he’s suffocating.’
‘Ben nerf,’ Weston repeated as Dad looked around for something to help.
‘Ben nerf? What the hell is a ben nerf and how’s it going to help us?’
‘Penknife?’ Dad suggested.
‘Penknife! Great, penknife,’ I exclaimed. ‘Weston, nip me once if it’s a penknife you meant.’
Weston’s confirmation bite of the soft flesh of my breast made me wince. ‘Great. Who has a penknife and what good will it do us?’
‘Ack rocket.’
‘I’ve no idea what an ack rocket is,’ I cried. Even if Weston didn’t suffocate to death, I was going to end up with a permanent imprint of his patterned cloth headrest on my cheek if we didn’t get out of here soon.
‘I think he’s trying to tell you that he has a penknife in his back pocket. Maybe you can deflate the air bag with it?’ Dad said, his face pressed up against the window, which considering he thought he’d just caught us in the throes of passion on his drive was pretty brave of him.
‘Owww,’ I exclaimed as Weston nipped me again really hard, confirming Dad’s translation.
‘Hurry up.’
‘I’m going as fast as I can,’ I moaned, getting friction burn on my knuckles as I squeezed my way down between the seat and Weston’s firm butt cheeks to try and get inside his back pockets. ‘Right now, I’m wishing you’d got smooth leather seats. Anyway, who carries a penknife around in their back pocket? Do you think you’re MacGyver or something?’
‘I’m going to find something to break the window, just in case you can’t get it,’ Dad called, with Weston desperately shaking his head and making my boobs wobble.
‘I’ve got it, I’ve got it, Dad,’ I yelled as I yanked it out and got myself in some bizarre yoga pose with one arm over the top of my head to try and extend the knife with both hands.
‘Good girl. Now reach up and back over your shoulder, a few good stabs should puncture the bag and deflate it enough for you to move back. Once you do, you can reach the door handle so I can help you out.’
‘Keep your hands on my bottom, Weston, I don’t want to stab you by mistake,’ I suggested as I did as I was told, hoping I wasn’t about to angle the knife into the back of my shoulder. I breathed a satisfied sigh of relief as I heard a loud pop and the gurgling sound of escaping air, not too dissimilar to the noises Abbie had made on fête day in the tent.
‘Jesus,’ Weston gasped, gulping down some welcome air as my chest released his face.
‘Are you ok?’ I asked.
‘Nearly being suffocated has at least one benefit. Your Dad won’t be seeing wood anytime soon.’
‘Don’t count on it. Dad, no!’ I yelled as I saw him hefting up a large branch lying on the grass verge. I managed to find the door handle and gave it a sharp tug, then a hard push so it swung open.
‘That was lucky, I was about to break the window. What’s going on?’
‘Nothing, nothing’s going on. We were just talking and I got stuck. Can you try and pull the lever under the seat? If we can push it back, I can get out.’
‘After hearing the conversation you were having before I knocked on the window, is it safe for me to be crawling under your legs? I need to have my eyes open and there are some things that no father ever wants to see. Again,’ he added in a stern tone.
‘It’s safe, Dad, nothing’s on display.’ I rolled my eyes at the beige soft-touch ceiling of the BMW as Weston muttered “Jesus” under his breath. So much for making a better impression the second time around.
I hugged Mum on the front doorstep as Weston pulled our cases out of the boot. I could hear him objecting to Dad’s offer to take them upstairs.
‘What was going on out there?’ she asked. ‘Your dad looked like he was about to smash the car window.’
‘I was,’ Dad agreed as he bumped his way past with the two small overnight bags.
‘It’s my fault,’ I said quickly, speaking before Weston, who’d just opened his mouth. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it. ‘I was upset over something stupid and he pulled me onto his lap to give me a hug and we got stuck, then set off the air bag as I tried to wriggle my way out, which trapped us even more.’
‘Well, sitting in his lap isn’t very ladylike behaviour, Georgina,’ she scolded, giving me an unimpressed look.
‘Mum, honestly, can’t you call me Georgie like everyone else?’
‘It’s your name, darling. Now come on in, I’ll put the kettle on while your dad puts the bags in your bedrooms.’
‘Bedrooms?’ I queried as we followed her inside.
‘We may be aware of the fact that you’re having sex, Georgina, especially after being confronted with that very fact in such an unladylike manner at your birthday party, but that doesn’t mean we’re ready to have you fornicating under our roof.’
‘Mum!’ I exclaimed, Weston’s grip on my hand tightening as he choked. ‘Honestly, I’m thirty years old, not thirteen.’
‘Separate rooms,’ she said firmly. ‘Now, what kind of tea would you like, Weston?’
‘Just normal tea will be fine, Mrs. Basset, thank you,’ he replied.
‘He’ll have a Darjeeling, Mum. We’ll go and sit in the lounge.’
‘Very well. Shoes off please, I don’t want mud all over the carpet.’
‘Yes, Mum,’ I sighed, shooting Weston an apologetic look as she sped off towards the kitchen. ‘She doesn’t do builders’ tea, sorry. Only fancy ones.’
‘It’s not exactly going great so far, is it?’ he said as I led him through to sit on the stark white sofa. I hated this house. Everything was minimalist, hard and angular. There was nothing soft and welcoming about it at all. I was amazed my parents had dogs. True, they were confined to the large kitchen-dining-family room, but even so.
‘At least the only way is up,’ I said, using my most reassuring tone.
‘Nothing’s going to be going up tonight. Separate bedrooms? Seriously?’ he scoffed as he sat back, rested one ankle up on his knee, and put his arm around me.
‘I’ll set you a covert mission later.’ I smiled with a suggestive waggle of my eyebrows. ‘With your skills, you should be able to make it into my bedroom undetected.’
‘Mission accepted,’ he grinned, leaning in to plant a kiss on my lips.
‘Am I going to be confronted with the fact that my daughter’s having sex all weekend?’ Dad asked as he walked in, forcing us to break apart.
‘Sorry, sir. I was hoping to make a better impression this time around.’ Weston quickly slipped his arm from my shoulder and grabbed my hand instead.
‘Well, you have some making up to do after the last meeting and the whole car incident.’
‘Dad, honestly, I’ve already apologised for both events. Can’t you let it go?’
‘So, Weston, why exactly do you carry a penknife in your back pocket?’ Dad asked.
‘Habit, I guess. You never know when you might need it for something. I’ve lost track of the times I’ve read that someone was trapped in their car after an accident by a seat belt that wouldn’t come undone. It’s reassuring to know that I have a knife to free myself, or someone else, if necessary.’
‘Georgie told me you’re ex-forces.’
‘Yes, sir. Army,’ Weston replied, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
‘What was your job in the Army?’
‘Captain, but I’m … I’m afraid I can’t disclose anything else.’
‘I’m not asking you to break any security protocols, I’m just interested what sort of thing you did,’ Dad prodded. ‘Intelligence, front line, ammunitions?’
‘Dad, Weston already said that he’s not at liberty to discuss his past,’ I said firmly, squeezing Weston’s hand tightly. ‘It’s done and dusted and he’s set up his own business now as a personal trainer.’
‘A what?’ Mum’s disbelieving, high-pitched exclamation came seconds before the crash of the teapot and cups and saucers as they hit the floor. The dark Darjeeling started doing a front crawl across her pristine white carpet as I groaned. Dad shot up and rushed over to help her as Weston let out a heavy sigh.
‘Still think it’s going great?’ he asked.
The rest of the day didn’t go any better, and the night was even worse. Mum was frantic over her ruined carpet, Weston couldn’t stop apologising, Dad was downright rude about his choice of career, and I ended up snapping at my parents, saying if they couldn’t be civil to the man I was in love with, then we’d grab our bags and leave. While the derogatory remarks and sideways looks stopped, there was still a heavy and oppressive atmosphere during dinner, so we made our excuses for an early night and Dad chaperoned Weston to his own room at the far end of the house.
I lay in my bed waiting for Weston to sneak in, but half an hour after the time we’d agreed, I lost patience. I got up, headed across my room in the dark, and cracked the door open. There were no lights on, and it was so quiet you’d have been able to hear a cricket rubbing his wings together ready to chirp. It seemed everyone had decided on an early night. I tiptoed across the hall to the bathroom first, checking my appearance and adjusting my new, seductive, red lingerie before fluffing out my hair. I slipped back into the corridor and inched my way to the guest room, hastily opening and closing the door behind me as I heard the dogs starting to bark downstairs.
‘Hey, what happened to you?’ I whispered as I made my way to the bed in the dark. ‘Weston? Are you asleep already?’ I cursed as I stubbed my toe on the bedside table while reaching for the lamp.
I blinked a few times as the soft peach bulb slowly lit up the room. His bed was empty, but, ever the regimented soldier, he’d straightened the duvet on it when he’d got out. I peeled it back and slipped inside, feeling warmth where he must have been lying only moments before. Maybe he’d gone downstairs for a glass of water first. I arranged myself in as seductive a pose as possible as I waited for him to return. Five minutes later, I was on my side checking my watch. Maybe he’d come back up and gone to my bedroom while I was lying here waiting in his room.
I got up, turned off the light, and stumbled my way over to the door, everything seeming even darker than before after getting used to the light. Mum had closed the shutters on the windows in the hall, so there wasn’t even a slither of moonlight to illuminate the way. I passed the stairs, dragging my fingers along the wall to try and count the number of doors. I let out a startled cry as I bumped straight into a warm, hard body and he grunted.
‘Weston, you just scared me to death. I waited for you for ages, then went to your room. I need some serious tension relief after today, I hope you’re in the mood for long and hard tonight,’ I giggled, reaching down to cup him firmly.
‘For the love of God, Georgie, are you trying to finish me off early?’ Dad’s voice snapped as he slammed his hand on the wall and flipped on the light switch.
‘Oh. My. God,’ I squealed, backing off as fast as I could, one arm flying to protect my chest, the other my privates. ‘Dad! What the hell?’
‘I could ask you the same. The silent house alarm alert on my phone woke me up and I came down to see what was going on. Get changed, you’ll give your mother a heart attack if she sees you wearing that or finds out you’ve smuggled him into your room. I’ve got to say I’m very disappointed in the behaviour of both of you this evening.’
‘Well, I’m disappointed in you both too!’ I shot back, giving him the glare that usually made Abbie wilt. ‘He’s done nothing wrong, he’s just tried to make you both like him, and you’ve been downright rude and condescending. And if I’d known, at the age of thirty, I wouldn’t be allowed to share a bed with my boyfriend, I’d have booked the bed and breakfast in the village. I’m a woman, Dad, not a little girl, and I’m sick of being treated like one.’
‘What’s going on?’ Mum’s voice sliced through the atmosphere as she padded down from the top floor. I shot Dad another glare and headed into my room, turned on the lights, and slammed the door behind me.
‘Weston?’ My bed was exactly as I’d left it, with the duvet thrown back, and there was no sign of him. I threw my jeans and a jumper over my nightwear and stuffed the rest of my overnight things in my bag. I’d had enough, we were going home right now. I stormed out to an empty landing and headed to the guest room, only to find that still empty. I left my case next to his and went to knock on the bathroom door. ‘Weston?’
When there was no answer, I tried the handle and swung the door open to reveal that it was empty. I could hear a commotion downstairs, including the dogs barking frantically, so I ran down to find out what was happening.
‘I’m telling you to call the police,’ Mum urged as they stood on each side of the front door, peering out through the glass side panels. ‘It’s a burglar.’
‘Wearing just a pair of boxer shorts and heading away from the house? I don’t think so,’ Dad scoffed.
‘What’s going on? Where’s Weston?’ I demanded.
‘I’d say outside, as he obviously wasn’t in his room,’ Dad replied, shooting a disapproving look at me over his shoulder.
‘In just his boxers? Let me see.’ I elbowed him out of the way and put my hands up against the glass, then gasped. Sure enough, there he was, weaving his way unsteadily up the drive in just a pair of tight black boxer briefs. I’d know his sculpted body anywhere. ‘How did he get out?’ I asked as I made short work of the locks on the door.
‘The system was showing the lounge window had been tampered with. I closed it when I came down after checking nothing was missing.’
I ignored a barrage of questions and started to run up the drive, guided by the low-level motion-activated lighting. It was seriously cold, there was already a sheen of shimmering frost showing on the blades of grass. What was he doing out here in his underwear?
‘Weston,’ I called as I started gaining on him. He seemed to pause for a moment, then carried on with his unsteady gait. ‘Weston, stop!’ I yelled. He ground to a halt and swayed on the spot.
‘Georgie?’ His voice sounded sleepy and confused, though not as confused as I was feeling right now.
‘What are you doing out here?’ I asked as I made it to his side and reached for his hand.
‘Where am I? What’s going on?’ His face was vacant as he blinked a few times and tried to take in his surroundings.
‘We’re at my parents’ house. For some reason, you climbed out of the lounge window and came for a barefoot and nearly naked walk. Are you ok?’ I reached up to palm his face with my free hand and swept my thumb repeatedly over his angular cheekbone as he let out a series of uncharacteristic expletives while he shook his head, his eyes heavy with sleep. Something here wasn’t right and I had a feeling it had to do with his near panic attack earlier. He was unsettled here, as unsettled as I felt. ‘Come on, let’s go and get you changed. I’m taking you home, back to Dilbury. I think you were sleepwalking.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly, pulling his hand from mine and scrubbing it over his face and up into his hair. ‘God damn it, I’m so sorry, Georgie.’
‘It’s ok. I think today has been too much and stressed you out. I had no idea you sleepwalked, so even if you don’t want to talk about it now, we’ll have to the next time you come to sleep over so I know what to do if it happens again.’
‘We can’t leave, it would be rude. And I’m so tired, I’m not sure I’m in a fit state to drive,’ he murmured against my hair as I pulled him into a tight embrace.
‘I’ll drive, and as they’ve been rude since we arrived, tough if they take offence. Besides, I bumped into Dad in the corridor in the dark, thought it was you, cupped his groin, and told him how I wanted him to do me. So the sooner we leave, the happier I think everyone will be.’
‘Oh no,’ he laughed. I started laughing too and buried my face against his cold, hard chest.
‘Yeah, the weekend definitely could have gone better, but I’m leaving with you, not leaving you, Weston.’
‘What did I do to deserve you, Georgie?’ he whispered, kissing the top of my head.
‘You’ve just been yourself.’
Two hours later, we were curled up in my bed, Weston’s head on my chest as I held him close and fingered his soft hair, lulling him into a deep and peaceful sleep. He said sleepwalking was a manifestation of his PTSD when he got stressed, but it hadn’t happened for a long time. He was so confused, he’d told me that he’d had to get up at three a.m. to make it to mine for nine o’clock, but it was only a forty-minute drive from Tibberton. It was obvious he hadn’t slept well and it was affecting him.
He felt guilty his sleepwalking had happened at the worst possible time. I felt guilty for putting him into a situation where he’d felt so stressed at the need to impress my parents that he’d regressed. There was plenty of guilt going around, except, it seemed, on my parents’ part. I’d expected to arrive to at least a voicemail apology for their behaviour, but there was none. Not even a text.