Chapter Twenty-eight

 

FOLLOWING THE INSTRUCTIONS on the note, I made my way down to the living room “in the uniform provided.” On entering, I shook my head at the two innocents sitting on the sofa with a bowl of crisps between them.

“I’m guessing this will be a new tradition?”

Rebecca flashed a smile and turned to the TV.

“I’ll get my own crisps then?”

Both were fixated on the screen.

There was a knock at the door and I wandered towards it. I had a nagging feeling who would be on the other side because the two criminal masterminds in the living room burst into giggles again. Still it didn’t settle my nerves. Berne had texted me late in the night to tell me she needed to think. At least I’d made her think. It was something to cling onto.

“Bonjour,” Berne said as she came in, shaking the rain from her coat. “Sorry I am late. The Coins had a leak in their roof.”

I took a breath. Small talk. I could do small talk. “Please don’t tell me you were up there in this weather?”

Berne shrugged and I took her coat from her. She was daft and kind. I adored her for it.

“Did you manage alright?” I watched her take off her shoes as I held her coat like a life raft.

“A few moments where I became more religious than usual but . . . not bad.”

She turned around and I groaned at her top. “Let me guess, you got a mysterious package too?”

“And a note. I have no idea who could have sent it.” She flicked her gaze at the hysterics from the other room.

I hung her coat up, trying not to stare. “Game on, I guess.”

We wandered into the living room and I poured crisps into a bowl. Berne sat beside me as the anthems blared out. It was only a friendly. France versus England. Which meant friendly in an ironic sense. This one was in Twickenham. A rugby match that could go either way. 

“Nice top, Pip.” Rebecca was grinning inanely. “I take it, you both accept the terms?”

Berne was still here, in Ajoux. That had to mean something. I hoped it meant something.

“From the giggling gorillas?” I asked, smiling at Berne. “Why not.”

Berne’s eyes twinkled. “Vive La France.”

“Swing low, sweet chariot,” I whispered back.

The match began in brutal fashion. As always with the two nations, the history pulsed onto the pitch and men clattered into each other with deafening crunches, blood splattering, and mud spraying everywhere. A torrential downpour added to the madness with the French slipping and sliding through tackles to score, only for the English to come back through metronome penalty kicking.

Eighty minutes, the game was hanging in the balance, the scores level. The ball was fed out from the scrum to the English fly-half. He took aim, drew his leg back.

Smack.

The French number nine drove him backwards to the ground. The ball rolled over the sideline. The whistle blew. All square.

“Well, that wasn’t in the script.” Rebecca threw a pillow at the TV for good measure.

Berne and I burst into laughter. They tried so hard, bless them. The entire match, I’d felt Berne’s thigh next to mine. She was here, she had worn the shirt. Was she staying?

“You didn’t leave with her?”

Berne smiled. “Non.”

My heart burst into a sprint. “Are you staying for . . . well . . . me?”

Her eyes twinkled. “Perhaps.” 

Why I giggled, I didn’t know but an idea washed over me.

“I tell you what,” I said to Rebecca. “How bout we both do the forfeit?”

Rebecca and Babs perked up at that.

Berne’s eyebrows shot up as I turned to her. She looked something else in a French shirt. Vive La France indeed.

“You too scared to run in the rain, Chamonix?” I got to my feet. My voice sounded like I knew exactly what I was doing and that I had clearly done this kind of thing before. “Think you can’t cope?”

Berne was up and marching to the front door. “I have no problem with the rain.” She opened it. “Après toi.”

I looked out at the crashing torrent and wobbled. “Couldn’t we wait for it to pass a bit?”

“You afraid of a little water, Pepe?” Her eyebrow arched. Hunger pulsed through her eyes at me. My stomach wiggled and I was quite sure that I may have fanned myself.

I tore my eyes from hers to spot Rebecca and Babs in the doorway. They gripped hold of each other, not making a sound. They looked like they were still watching the rugby match.

Rebecca gave me a curt nod and I tapped the rose on my chest. “Never. No proud Englishwoman would be scared of such drizzle.”

Drizzle? It looked like something you’d see in a hurricane.

“I only worry that you won’t be able to keep up.” I launched forward, planted my lips on Berne’s, ripped off my rugby shirt, and sprinted into the freezing cold rain.

I howled with laughter, the sensation of the water washing away my cares. I felt free. I felt . . . flipping freezing.

My flip-flops flew off as I giggled. I held my face up to the sky as the rain poured down onto my skin. I felt whole.

Two warm, strong hands caught me as we got to the bridge. “You owe me a kiss, non?”

I turned. Berne’s eyes were intense, filled with desire, and twinkling. I stared into them. Stared up at the face I’d spent my life dreaming of. I felt blessed beyond any words I could find. The heartbeat in my ears sounded like it was launching into a mad victory parade.

Still, I had to fight a bit. “Do I?”

The smile slid across her lips. Oh, how I had longed to feel them again.

“Oui, you kiss me. It is only fair.”

She made a good argument. I let Berne pull me until only inches separated our parted lips. I felt that finally I was well and truly alive. I could give in now. I was ready to give in. I’d earned back her trust. I felt like I made an impact now. I had fixed up a house, been with Monsieur Chamonix until help arrived. I’d taken on my past, taken on Fish Lips, and you know what, I’d survived it.

I got scared, I made mistakes, and I messed up, and you know what, I was okay with that. I didn’t have to be perfect anymore. I could be something better. Me.

“There is something else in that too,” I whispered. “Paying back the kiss, I mean.” I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of her skin against mine.

“Oui?” Berne purred. Her hands ran up and over my back. “It is important?”

“Yeah, it is.” I brushed away her hair, hoisted myself up, and wrapped my legs around her waist.

If I was doing this. I was doing it in style. I sank into the kiss, letting every single want, need, desire, and hope pulse through me into it. I could hear her groan against me, then whimper as I pulled back and jumped down.

“Now we’re equal.”

She strolled towards me and I smiled, holding her bra in my hand. She narrowed her eyes, that mischief shining through.

I giggled and turned to run, howling like a madwoman as I splashed through the puddles towards the house.

I grinned at Rebecca who looked prouder than I’d ever seen her. “I’d say advantage England!”

Babs poked her. “Pepe kissed her first, that is France win, non?”

Berne caught me, hauled me upwards, carried me inside and up the stairs that I’d fixed.

“What do you think, Pepe?” she asked, the rain dribbling over her strong, sexy shoulders.

“It’s pretty decisive,” I murmured against her lips. “Game, set, and match . . . to love.”