A sharp pain shot deep into James’s thigh. The morphine had worn off. With every step up the stairs and towards his bedroom, it intensified. It wasn’t unbearable yet. James stopped and stared at the closed door to his bedroom. His chest felt constricted and he was out of breath. It was as if he had aged fifty years since the previous day. James turned the handle, pushed the door open, and dragged his weary body across the floor.
He froze. His chest tightened, and his heart raced as he gazed at the scene in front of him. There she was, lying peacefully on her side. Valentine’s loose golden curls had fallen forward and partially covered her face. She had returned home. His Valentine was back.
He wanted to dash across the room, slip into bed, and spend the next several weeks holding her close to him. But he didn’t want to risk waking her.
Does she want to stay and give our relationship one more try?
As much as his heart wanted to believe she was back for good, the cynic in him felt it was over. As James juggled his conflicting feelings, he inched towards her. He couldn’t stay away.
James sat on the side of the bed. He swept Valentine’s blonde locks off her face and behind her ear, then kissed the side of her forehead.
She stirred.
Valentine’s eyes flickered, revealing a hint of green, then closed again. James lifted his weary body off the bed and jolted towards the door as Valentine opened her eyes and lifted her head off the duck-egg blue pillowcase.
‘I’m sorry.’ James’s eyes watered. ‘I saw you lying there, and I couldn’t resist. I’m just—’ His voice choked. ‘Honestly, I’m just relieved that you’re finally safe.’
Valentine pulled back the covers and got out of bed. ‘Sorry, I had nowhere else to go. I couldn’t go back to that hotel. I hope it’s okay that I came back.’
She strolled towards James and wrapped her arms around his waist, then buried her head under his chin. James wrapped his arms around her. His heart raced as he breathed in her scent.
She smelt of freshly cut roses.
He kissed the top of Valentine’s head as he drew her closer to his body. She looked up at him. A glaze formed over the top of her eyes as she wept. He took a deep breath. He couldn’t stand the sight of her crying and would do anything to make the tears stop. James ran his hands up her body and rested his hand along her jawline. He caressed her rosy-pink lips.
James stepped forward and navigated her across the wooden floor, back to the bed. As James inched closer to the bed, he held Valentine tighter. He kissed her harder, deeper, and with a more fervent, urgent need than he had ever known before. James would never get enough of her.
His blue surgical V-neck shirt floated to the floor, followed by a pair of matching trousers. The lovers inched towards the bed. As he released her lips, Valentine looked into James’s eyes, begging him for one more kiss. His warm, trembling hands drifted down her petite frame and, as they reached the bed, paused at her hips. He couldn’t resist her gaze any longer. James brushed her lips lightly with his before diving in once more, harder and more intense.
His long fingers glided down to the hem of Valentine’s night dress and drew it up towards her hips. James’s fingers drifted along her bare skin. His heart raced. He held his breath as he continued to brush his fingers along her porcelain skin.
He pulled away from her soft pink lips. His eyes surveyed the petite woman in front of him. A few moments later, his eyes darted up and met hers. Valentine stared into his eyes as he tore off the blush-pink silk of her nightdress. He ran his hands down her body and grabbed her thighs, then pulled them up and around his hips. Entwined, they fell into the duck-down duvet. He pressed his lips against hers and groaned.
A cold foot brushed against his warm, bare skin and transported James out of his dream state and back to reality. He looked at Valentine snuggled up beside him. She lay there with her eyes open, staring straight ahead, not saying a word.
It wasn’t a dream.
James gazed at the ceiling, contemplating whether to break the silence.
Valentine had changed her mind. It was almost too good to be true. James wanted to tell her he had changed and longed to prove it to her. The more cynical part of him thought better of it.
Don’t push your luck.
The moment didn’t last long, and James couldn’t help himself. It slipped out of him like a leaking bucket and poured out onto the floor. All he had to do was stare at the ceiling.
‘I’m resigning as the editor.’ James rolled over onto his side, drew Valentine close to him, and entwined himself around her.
‘James, I—’
‘Just hear me out. I’m going to pursue investigative journalism. It’s what I wanted to do after I finished my degree in English literature. And maybe after a few years, after I’ve created enough contacts, I can leave and freelance.’ James looked down as Valentine pulled away from him.
He watched a tear spill out.
That’s not good.
James pulled her towards him.
‘I get that I’ve been the world’s shittiest boyfriend, and I understand why you wanted to leave, but I’ve realised where I’ve gone wrong. You and I are important to me.’ He kissed her forehead as the tears streamed down, more intense than before.
As she pulled away from James and inched towards the edge of the bed, he grabbed her hand. ‘Give me one more chance to make things right.’
Valentine looked away.
‘Come back to bed,’ James said in a hushed tone.
Valentine pulled away from James’s grip. She picked her nightdress off the floor, slipped it over her shoulders, and pulled it down around her slender frame. ‘You’re never going to change. We both know that. You’ve always been this guy; I just didn’t notice the signs when we first met. I’m going back to Paris,’ she said through a sea of tears.
‘I can change. Maybe I could come back with you, and we could start again.’ James’s voice trembled.
‘We both know it’s over.’ Valentine stared at the closed door of the bedroom.
‘We could take a break,’ James said as a lump formed in the back of his throat.
He knew his pleading would go unheard. Valentine was strong-willed and stubborn. It was these qualities he loved most about her. James couldn’t remember when he’d last seen her like this, stubborn and determined. Over the last six months, all she had done was scream at him about the same thing. He would listen and drag his weary body to bed, then wake up and go back to work. It was as if they were passengers on a train who saw each other every day. Strangers who nodded, acknowledging each other’s existence.
Merde. She was right.
‘I shouldn’t have come back here.’ Valentine walked towards the door.
‘I’m glad you did,’ James said as a tear trickled out of one eye. He watched her leave the room.
It was over.
His reddened eyes stared at the letter on the screen. James ran his fingers through his hair. He tilted his head to the side and, with a vacant expression, continued to stare. His entire world had come crashing down in a single moment. But there was one thread left, and he was about to unravel it and wait for it to fall to the floor. Was he making the right decision?
What am I doing? I can’t resign.
James got up off his chair and paced the length of the kitchen table. A sharp pain shot up his left thigh, a reminder of the events that had unfolded earlier that morning. Not that he was going to forget any time soon. He hunched over, grabbed the thigh of his blue-and-green-check pyjama trousers, and groaned.
Now that Valentine had left, did any of this even matter? Was he doing this all for her, or was this for him?
He released the grip on his thigh and leaned over the table, resting his left hand on the tabletop, propping himself up. James turned the computer screen around to face him. His eyes scanned the resignation letter on the screen.
I can’t stay here.
A tear trickled down his cheek. The right path had finally become clear. But could he actually do it? Did he have the tenacity to write an email, attach the letter, and take a leap into the unknown?
As he continued to weigh up the pros and cons, an idea came to mind. It was the perfect distraction. The very thing he needed. Pulling out his smartphone, James typed the following message to his friend Liam. It read: We should get the guys together and have a reunion dinner. Maybe this summer?