I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t feel a distinct sense of victory when I watched him walk away from you. You were understandably quiet. Perhaps even a little sad. Of course you were. Nobody likes to hurt another person like that. Especially you with your gentle, caring nature. But you made the right decision. The sadness would fade. You’d get over it like a child recovers from a grazed knee. The man is no good. A heinous criminal. Rough and violent. Rotten to the core. And like a rotten apple in a crate he would turn those close to him rotten too. You had no choice and you knew that, didn’t you?
Nobody, least of all Cameron Stewart, will ever love you like I do.
We sat in the car. I took your hand. ‘You’ve done the right thing, Hannah.’
You nodded.
‘You’re free of him now.’
‘Thank goodness,’ you said as you looked out of the window, pondering, I imagine, your lucky escape.
‘Hannah?’
You turned. Your fringe was obscuring your eyes and I brushed it to one side. ‘Yes?’
‘I’m going to take care of you. Forever.’
And then we kissed. Do you remember how tender that moment was? You were shy, reserved, as if this were your first-ever kiss. Desire knocked the air from me.
‘I’d like to see you tonight.’