“Dessert is served!” she announces and places the dish in the middle of the table.
She stands back and smiles, her hand on the back of Jon’s chair. Her dark hair is tied up in a knot on top of her head. She’s wearing jeans and one of my knitted jumpers. Her face is make-up free but the prettiest I’ve ever seen it. Her smile radiates warmth and pride and my future.
She is my future. She is my light. She is my love.
She is not my dirty secret. She is not something I want to hide. She is my hope and my happiness, and Jon’s absolutely right, I want to share that with the world.
“Fucking ’ell! Look at this!” Jon picks up his spoon and licks his lip. “Just like my nan used to make!”
“Looks delicious,” I say, looking at Pia. She flashes me a quick frown of confusion when she no doubt sees the intensity in my eyes, but it can wait.
Not forever, but it can wait for now.
“Thank you for cooking today,” I tell Pia as we dry the last of the dishes.
“Thank you for putting up with Jon,” she says. “I know he’s a bit of a wanker, but all in all, he’s been a good friend to me over the years.”
“I’m happy you had him as a friend,” I reply, and I take a deep breath. Now is as good a time as any. I reach for the casserole dish in her hand and her tea towel and place both on the countertop. “Pia, I think we should talk.”
“Oh?” She narrows her eyes. “Wait, did Jon ask you for a threesome? I swear to God if he did?—”
“No! No, he didn’t do that. That’s not … that’s not what I want to talk about.”
“Then what?”
“What if … what if we didn’t wait?”
Pia’s frown deepens. “Wait for what?”
“To share our story with the world.”
“Our story?”
“Fine, our love. Our relationship.”
Pia crosses her arms. “How much wine did you drink today?”
“No, Pia, I’m not drunk. I’m serious.”
She shakes her head and then picks up the tea towel and dish again, even though it looks perfectly dry to me. “You’re not thinking straight,” she says, not meeting my gaze.
“I know what I want,” I tell her in a quiet but firm voice.
“And I know what I want,” she snaps, tea towel thrown down on the side again. “I want us to be safe and not hated, and for you to have all the success you want and deserve.”
“Who says I can’t have that?” I say slowly, carefully. “Andhave you.”
“You have me, Cassie.” Her tone has melted, and her hands land on my hips. “I’m yours.”
“But what if I want the world to know that, too?” I plead. “I thought that was what you wanted, too.”
She stares at me for a long time, and I would give up all my worldly possessions to know what she’s thinking, especially when her big brown eyes shutter into a vacant look.
“I want…” she begins, sighs, then tries again. “I want to not talk about this. Cassie, we have only four more days together. And then I’m away again for two months. Then it’s the Grammys. Recording your album. Let’s just let things stay as they are a little longer. When I’m back in LA and things are a bit calmer, then we can talk. But now is not that time. Not when I only have you for four more fucking days. I want to spend that time loving you, cooking for you, singing with you, listening to you sing to me and fucking you. I want to fuck you so much in the next four days that you will need two months to recover.”
Unease swims inside me. I know what she’s doing. She’s using sex to distract me, and while it is quite effective, I am not swept away completely.
“Pia,” I try again.