Chapter 5 – I'm Gonna Love You Too

Alex pushed carefully through the double doors, pink-rimmed sunglasses balancing precariously on her head, and headed straight to the kitchen. The only way she'd get through this morning was by mainlining caffeine, starting now.

Gingerly filling the kettle and spooning coffee into a cup, she leant against the cabinets for support, pressing her hands to her head. Never again. She was a grown woman, for God's sake, not some idiotic teenager, and she should know better than to spend the evening in the company of a bottle of wine and her maudlin thoughts. She hadn't even eaten. What a bloody idiot.

She groaned as she remembered accusing Gene of stealing the money. It was all a bit of a blur. She didn't think she'd been explicit about her suspicions – Gene probably hadn't understood half of what she'd been babbling on about – but she was still mortified. Taking a fortifying gulp of coffee, she winced as it burnt a numbing trail down her throat.

She'd done a lot of thinking since she'd woken up and found herself shivering on top of the sheets, with a pounding head, roiling stomach and a tongue like a tennis ball. Standing under the shower, trying to wash away the hangover, she'd cringed at how she'd got carried away. She'd done what she'd always accused Gene of doing – theorising without evidence, accusing him based on the flimsiest of circumstances – and as the first beams of daylight filtered into the flat, she'd understood the depth of her mistake.

Of course Gene didn't take the money. She knew he'd often sailed close to the wind – still did, when he thought the end result would warrant it. But never for personal gain. She'd felt like death, forcing down some dry toast as she sat shakily at her kitchen table, but an unexpected rush of warmth had washed through her at her realisation. This was Gene. The man who'd leant a suit to a snout to help with his custody hearing. The man who'd put aside his prejudices to support Marcus Johnstone after he'd shot Simon Neary. The man who'd sat with Delphine Parks' mother as she'd grieved in church. And the man who'd rescued her more times than she cared to remember. Who'd held her and shared his strength with her when she'd thought she was dying deep underground.

This was the real Gene. He hid it well, she knew. He'd certainly hidden it from her for long enough. But at her kitchen table that morning, it had all finally fallen into place. She had no idea where it was going to lead but at least she was no longer so clueless about where she wanted it to go.

For now, though, she had to get through this hangover and try to get a result on the Pat Smith case. Gripping the coffee mug for strength, she walked slowly back to her desk and sat down carefully. She took a deep breath and picked up the first statement.

From his office, Gene watched as Alex began reading through the Smith paperwork. She looked as bad as he'd ever seen her – dark circles under her eyes, greenish tinge to her cheeks and hair that was even more out of control than usual. He did his usual internal check – yep, despite looking like a gorgon, he still wanted her.

She was bending over a file, resting her head on her hands, obviously finding holding herself upright something of a struggle. He smiled behind his hand. She'd put a lot away last night, even by their usual standards, and she was paying for it today.

Gene pulled his notebook towards him, trying to look as though he was doing something useful. He really had to stop wasting so much time thinking about her. What had she been going on about last night, anyway? Changing her opinion about him, eh? That couldn't hurt – she couldn't think any worse so she must have meant she was beginning to think better. But there was something else – something about money and putting it back. Typical bloody nonsense. He wished, not for the first time, that he could get inside her head. All right. Not just her head.

Oblivious of Gene's musings, Alex ploughed her way painfully through the statements. Something wasn't adding up. She read Sheila's evidence again, frowning, then rose to her feet, about to see whether Gene could help dislodge the idea. She didn't get far before Shaz caught her arm, looking pale and tired. "Can I have a word, please, Ma'am," she asked quietly, eyes glancing around the squad room nervously.

"Of course," Alex replied. "Somewhere a bit more private?"

Shaz nodded, and the two women made their way out of the squad room and into the canteen. Alex bought them both coffees – she certainly needed one and from the look of Shaz, a little extra caffeine wouldn't go amiss there either. She joined Shaz at a table in the corner.

"So," said Alex, looking at Shaz as steadily as she was able. "Things haven't got any better since we last spoke?"

At this, Shaz took a deep breath and returned Alex's gaze. "I'm so sorry, Ma'am" she said quietly. "I've done something really stupid and I just don't know what to do next." She paused and looked away for a moment, reaching into her pocket for a handkerchief.

"Go on," prompted Alex softly, watching as Shaz began crumpling the hankie between her fingers.

"It's the money, Ma'am," whispered Shaz. "From the safe. I took it."

"You took it? But Shaz, why?" The shock at Shaz's words cut through Alex's hangover better than any painkiller.

"I didn't know what to do for the best. I just couldn't see any way out of it. And now it's all gone so horribly wrong." Shaz gulped and looked worryingly close to tears.

Alex was bewildered. Why on earth would Shaz, of all people, have taken the money? Alex had never known anyone so honest and trustworthy. Innocence seemed to shine out of her. "I don't understand," Alex said gently. "Tell me what happened."

Slowly the story unfolded. Shaz confessed to having an unpleasant ex-boyfriend who'd threatened to tell Chris some secrets of Shaz's past unless Shaz could pay him off. "The thing is, Ma'am," Shaz concluded sadly, "the stuff he was going to tell Chris about – I was just so ashamed. He talked me into doing things that I should never have done. I'd die if Chris ever found out. I couldn't bear it." Shaz's cheeks soaked with colour as she stared at the table top, tapping her teaspoon nervously against her cup.

Alex looked sympathetically at her colleague. "Oh, Shaz. You're right. You did do something really very daft. But," she added resolutely, "it's not irretrievable." Shaz looked up at her with such fragile hope that Alex's heart nearly broke.

"But I could lose everything. My job. Chris. Oh God, Ma'am. I can't believe I was so stupid."

"Listen, Shaz," said Alex, resting a hand on her arm. "I can't pretend that this isn't serious. I'm going to have to tell the Guv." Shaz winced but nodded. "But leave it with me. I'm sure we can find a way through this. And try not to worry."

Shaz gave Alex a weak smile. "I heard you last night," she said awkwardly. "You and the Guv. You were accusing him of taking the money. I knew then that I'd have to tell you. Couldn't have you blaming anyone else, specially not the Guv."

Grimacing, Alex shook her head. "Don't worry about the Guv. You're not the only one who's done something stupid. I'd already worked out it wasn't him. I'll apologise if I have to, but I'm sure I can talk him round."

Some of Shaz's spirit appeared to have returned as she sent Alex a glance. "I'm sure you can, Ma'am," she said as she pushed away from her table. "And thank you," she added. "If you can help, I'll be ever so grateful."

"Please, don't mention it. But one thing – I do think you should talk to Chris. You don't have to tell him everything, if you don't want to. But don't underestimate him. He can probably cope with knowing more than perhaps you expect."

Returning to her desk, Alex was relieved to find that her hangover appeared to have abated somewhat. She smiled as she saw Shaz stop by Chris's desk, asking him to join her for a drink that evening. Chris eagerly agreed. Alex was pretty confident that they'd work it out between them. Not everyone needed to be as miserable as she and Gene.

She sighed as she picked up Sheila's statement once more. She remembered she'd been about to talk something over with Gene. Skimming through it, one particular paragraph caught her eye and she walked straight into his office, unsure whether she was right to feel excited or whether she was reading too much into it.

"Look at this," she said, dropping the statement on his desk and pointing to the paragraph.

"Come in," Gene replied, eyebrow raised. "Can I help you?"

"Sorry. But look. Sheila told us that Pat's union was pretty militant. Almost revolutionary. You remember, she said how important it'd been to Pat, looking after the workers, trying to change the world. How he'd loved the political argument and the passionate debate."

Gene nodded. "All true. And?"

"So how did the union lose the strike ballot? You said you thought common sense prevailed – well, unions today aren't exactly known for their common sense, are they? Certainly not when people like Pat are shop stewards. You'd have thought they'd have jumped at the chance to withdraw their labour."

"Smith would've been involved in organising that strike ballot, being shop steward."

"And who benefited from the union voting against the strike?"

"Slade?"

"Slade."

"Get your coat, love. We've got a package to collect."

xxx

Alex laughed as Ray cracked open a bottle of fizz, spraying it over a hapless Chris before actually getting some into glasses. She picked one up, her eyes automatically seeking Gene's as she raised her glass in a toast.

"Here's to another one behind bars," he growled in her ear, watching as she nodded and sipped her drink in agreement.

Turned out Alex's hunch had been spot on. They'd brought Slade in that morning and under Alex and Gene's own version of good-cop-bad-cop he'd confessed to Pat's murder. Slade had been terrified of losing his job if the union voted in favour of strike action so he'd tried to find a way of making sure that the union lost the ballot. He'd known Pat's position as shop steward meant he'd have a key role in organising the strike ballot, so he'd approached him and persuaded him to rig the results against the strike. Slade said Pat had been reluctant at first but Slade had threatened to expose Pat's affair with Mary if he didn't comply. In the end, Pat had agreed to fix the election but his conscience had bothered him and he'd let Slade know he was going to tell the union leaders what he'd done. Slade couldn't allow that to happen – his devotion to his family was genuine and he couldn't risk putting his job on the line – and he'd seen no way out other than silencing Pat permanently.

Walking with Gene to their usual corner table, Alex allowed herself to enjoy a wave of satisfaction at having wrapped up the case. She felt sorry for Sheila; not only having to lose her husband but to discover his infidelity at the same time. Bloody men.

Speaking of which, she watched as Chris and Shaz took another table across the restaurant from them. Shaz's ex hadn't done his gender any favours in the reputation stakes. Alex stiffened her spine. "Gene," she began, looking him clearly in the eye. "I'm sorry about last night. I accused you of something I shouldn't have and I want to apologise."

Gene raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You've lost me, love. I remember you mouthing off well enough, but you didn't make the effort to explain yourself very clearly. Still, I'm never one to turn down an apology from you – they're rare enough to be valuable."

"Yes, well. The thing is, there was some cash missing from the safe in the evidence room. Two-hundred and fifty pounds. I thought – well – I thought you might have taken it."

Gene pushed out his lips as he considered her words. "You honestly thought I'd have dipped into the safe and stolen cash from the station?" Did she really have such a low opinion of him? He'd thought she was getting beneath the layers, beginning to understand what he was really about. Guess not. What was the point, anyway?

"Gene, I'm sorry. I was drunk." And jealous and lonely and stupid. "I realised this morning that it wouldn't have been you. I just wanted you to know that. And to tell you I was sorry."

Nodding slightly, Gene didn't push it. At least she'd stopped accusing him. A few years ago, she might have been right to suspect him, but not any more. Not since Sam and Harry Woolfe. Pushing that thought away, he returned to the matter in hand. "So who did take it then, Miss Marple?"

"I'm afraid it was Shaz. She knows she's made a mistake and I'm positive it won't happen again. She had good reasons but you'll have to trust me on that – I can't betray her confidence." She paused and looked at Gene. "The money's been returned and I hope that can be the end of it." Alex didn't add that she'd loaned Shaz the replacement cash on a very long term repayment basis.

"You want me to cover something up?" Gene frowned but his eyes were shining with mischief.

"It's all in a good cause," smiled Alex, optimistic that Shaz had learned from her experience and wouldn't be so foolish in future. Everyone deserved a second chance.

Alex looked across at Gene, who was absently rooting in his jacket pocket for his cigarette packet. A wave of longing washed over her as she took in his profile, his strong jaw, broad shoulders, unbuttoned shirt, loosely hanging tie. He took in a lungful of smoke and she watched his mouth as he breathed it out across the room. Good lord. What else could those lips do? What would Gene be like as a lover? Would he take his time, be generous with his attentions, investigating every part of her body, slowly brining her to the peak of ecstasy? Or would it be fast and hard and dirty and rude? She yearned to find out.

His fingers were fiddling with a matchbox and she pictured them tracing patterns across her skin. Why didn't he want her? He was so forceful at work, so sure of himself and what he wanted. She needed him to be that way with her. Needed him to take the decision out of her hands, to prove to her that despite their differences, they could work. He needed to make her believe that he was real.

Gene broke into her thoughts. "World record, Bolly." She looked at him questioningly. "It's been at least sixty seconds since you spoke. Must have something very important on your mind to keep you quiet that long."

She lifted her chin. Colour was seeping into her cheeks and he read something unexpected in her eyes. It had only been a throwaway line but the look she was trying to hide made him wonder what exactly she'd been thinking about.

"Nothing important, Gene," she replied, casting around for a topic to move the conversation on. Unfortunately, she couldn't think fast enough. "Just wondered how things went with your wife last night." Great, Alex. That'll throw him off the scent.

"Well," Gene frowned. "She wants my house, my savings and my bollocks on a plate. I got to keep my bollocks."

Alex grimaced sympathetically. "Not much fun, then?"

"Only if you enjoy having your every failing identified and catalogued for the benefit of some blood-sucking divorce lawyer." He looked at her. "Why? Jealous?"

Jealous? Was it jealousy, the way thinking of his missus made her insides twist? Tightened her throat so that she could barely swallow? "Yes," she surprising them both. Why on earth had she said that? She tried to backtrack quickly. "I mean, it's just, you know, I've got used to having you around. In the evenings, in here." She rolled her eyes. "I had to make do with Ray."

"I can see that would be unfortunate," Gene said automatically, still thinking about her confession. Was there a chance after all? So many months of waiting, watching from a distance. He'd lost count of the number of flirtatious one-liners he'd dropped her way, how many light-hearted propositions she'd ignored or brushed off. He'd maintained a degree of plausible deniability – kept the depth of his feelings concealed. But if he did anything less equivocal – went for a touch, say, or a kiss – well, that would be it. No more denial. Could he risk rejection?

The atmosphere thickened suddenly between them. Alex's nerves were taut, sensitive to Gene's every sound and movement. Her desire made her clumsy and she reached blindly for her glass, misjudging the distance and sending it flying. She gasped as the red wine splashed across Gene's shirt and, flustered, she leant across, trying to dab at the stain with a napkin. He grabbed her wrist and she froze, aware suddenly of her position, leaning in to him, her hand on his chest. Raising her eyes to his, she babbled breathlessly, "Sorry, don't know what happened, made a terrible mess, really sorry, sure it'll come out."

"Bolls," Gene growled, holding her wrist against him.

She was so close, her lips just moments from his, and he couldn't take his eyes from them. Tightening his hold almost imperceptibly, urging her closer, she swallowed before picking up again in a rush. "You should change that shirt. There are spares in my wardrobe. Think they're Luigi's. Not exactly high fashion but would do for tonight, I suppose. Probably fit okay."

Gene nodded. "All right."

They waited a moment, eyes locked. Alex swallowed. "You – um – you'll have to let go of my wrist"

He released his hold without speaking and followed her silently up to her flat.

After struggling slightly with the key, Alex waved Gene through to the bedroom while she went to the kitchen, looking for a bottle of wine. "Shirts're in the wardrobe," she called unnecessarily. Gene nodded to himself, trying not to look at the rumpled cover on the bed as he made his way to the wardrobe. He opened the doors and saw them hanging together on the left of the rail. Alex's own clothes were alongside, including some familiar-looking tops and dresses. He ran his hand slowly across them before alighting on a shirt that seemed suitable – worryingly wide lapels but at least plain cotton and pale green in colour.

He pulled his tie loose and stuffed it into his pocket before dropping his jacket and wine-stained shirt onto a chair. He pushed his arms into the green one and was about to button it when a sound from behind caught his attention. Turning, he saw Alex at the door, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a corkscrew in the other.

"I – er – wondered if you'd like a glass," she said, waving the bottle vaguely in his direction. How long had she been watching him? Her gaze was darting around the room.

"Okay," he replied, not moving, shirt hanging open across his shoulders.

She found herself walking towards him, holding out the bottle and the corkscrew. "Can you help me?"

"Depends," he said slowly as she reached him, standing close, holding the bottle between them. "What do you need help with?"

"I can't seem to get this open."

His eyes drilled into hers, searching for any hint that she wanted the same as him. "I'm not sure you're trying very hard."

"I'm trying very hard, Gene," she replied quietly, "but for some reason I'm finding it very difficult. I need your help. I need you to do it for me."

A beat. "Am I hearing things? You need me?" His eyes glinted dangerously.

She cleared her throat. "It would seem so."

Her gaze shifted from his eyes to his lips as he prised the bottle of wine from her fingers. She wondered what his lips would taste like. Surely it was inevitable now? She felt rather than saw him place the bottle on the chair, not moving his body one millimetre away from hers as he did so.

He could smell her. She smelled of wine and smoke and berries – a perfect autumn day. Her breathing quickened as he lowered his head, murmuring her name before brushing her lips in a gentle, feather-light kiss. "Gene," she sighed, angling her head towards his.

"More?"

"More."

It was all the invitation he needed. Cupping her head in his hands, he drew her in for another kiss, deeper this time, his tongue sliding between her lips, curling against hers, sucking, nipping her lips, licking and testing and tasting.

She could feel his hands on her body, one twining through her hair, the other sweeping down her back to her waist, pulling her close against him. She gasped as heat spun through her, his exploration of her mouth making her weak with longing. She raised her hands, placing them flat beneath his open shirt, around his back, she couldn't pull him close enough. His erection pressed against her and she swayed towards him, circling her hips into his, desperate for more intimate contact.

"More?" he asked again, breathless against her lips, and at her nod he slid his lips along her jaw, her throat, pausing to swirl around her earlobe before reaching the point where neck met shoulder. Opening his mouth wide, he sucked hard, teeth and tongue against her sensitive flesh, and she clung onto his shoulders to stay upright.

"Good, Gene, so good," Alex whispered as he pulled her top free of her jeans, an arm still firmly around her waist while a hand stroked up her ribcage to her breast. "Ooh, yes," she cried, his fingers pinching at her nipple, and he growled against her throat at the feel of it hardening beneath his touch.

She brought her hands round to his front and swept them across his chest, loving the feel of his hard, warm flesh, then she slid them up towards his shoulders, down his arms, his shirt falling to a heap on the floor. "Better," she murmured, now able to join his explorations, kissing across his neck, his collarbone, flicking her tongue at his nipple, smiling as she heard him take a sharp breath.

"Only fair," he muttered, pulling away from her for a moment to draw her top over her head. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her, breasts spilling over a skimpy black bra, nipples erect beneath the delicate fabric, creamy white flesh waiting for his touch.

He bent his head, his lips at the point where the fabric of her bra met the curve of her breast. Reaching around, he unhooked the clasp at her back and pulled the straps along her shoulders, allowing the garment to follow her top to the floor. She was beautiful. He was deaf to everything but the roar in his ears as he gazed at her. Cupping her breasts in his palms, staring avidly as his thumbs stroked circles around her nipples, he dipped his head once more and took a nipple into his mouth, tonguing it taut. He groaned at the taste of her.

She shivered in his arms as he continued his assault on her breasts, his mouth and tongue on one, fingers working the other to a heavy peak, till she was squirming with desire. "More," she pleaded, tugging on his hair, pulling his mouth back to hers. "Please, Gene," she breathed between kisses, her hands on his belt, his fly. "Want more."

Groaning, Gene toed off his boots and socks and kicked away his trousers. He grabbed her around the waist and slid his hands across her arse, pulling her close so she was in no doubt about his arousal. "Won't be able to stop soon," Gene muttered against her neck, his hands flat on her bare back. "You sure about this?"

"Am," she mumbled, hooking her fingers into the elastic of his shorts and pushing down. Her eyes widened and breathing quickened as she caught a glimpse of him. Wow. She bit her lip. "Get on the bed."

"Are you telling a superior officer what to do?" He flipped the button on the waistband of her jeans and lowered the zip.

"Yes."

"Good." He peeled off her jeans and tugged at the tiny scrap of black satin that passed for knickers. In his fantasies she always looked perfect but real life trumped his imagination on every count. Her body was amazing. Blood pumped through him as he took her in. He wanted it all.

Hooking his arm under her knees, he carried her the short distance to the bed. They lay together for a moment, staring at each other, silent but for the sound of their breathing. He'd waited for this; felt like a lifetime. He still couldn't believe she wasn't going to say no. Then she flashed him a quick, devilish smile and he stopped thinking, instinct taking over. He pulled her to him, dizzy at the feel of her body against his, her thigh around his hip, his lips against hers. She raked her fingernails along his spine, wriggling closer, working her way above him. He lay on his back as she kissed down his chest, across his belly, to his hard, aching cock.

Kneeling astride him, she took hold of his length and made long, firm strokes, smiling as his hips bucked beneath her. He was so hard beneath her fingers, like steel wrapped in velvet, and it turned her on just to touch him, to know that he would soon be hers. She worked him slowly with one hand while the other dipped to cup his balls, and she leaned closer, breathing him in.

She couldn't resist. She had to taste him and she lowered her mouth to his cock, teasing at first, circling his tip with her tongue, licking along his shaft and back again before taking him fully into her mouth. Gene's muffled curses rang in her ears as she sucked, her lips stretched around him, her tongue lapping against his head. "Jesus, Alex, more," he hissed, his voice strained, and she swallowed him deeper into her throat, slickness growing between her own legs at the way he filled her mouth.

Gene looked along the length of his body, watching Alex wrap her lips around his cock, her tits swaying as she worked him, her legs apart as she sat across his thighs. Fucking hell, his fantasies hadn't even come close to this. He was desperate to come but also needed to make it last. Gathering his self-control, he pulled her back up his body, capturing her lips with his, tasting himself on her mouth.

He rolled her onto her back and, taking his weight on one hand, he slid the other across her breast. She cried out as he skimmed lightly across one hard nipple and he swept back, rolling the peak between finger and thumb. Dipping his head to her breast, he licked then squeezed hard, scraping his teeth across the tip. "God, yes," Alex moaned, need now pulsing fast between her legs, and Gene watched as her hand made its way across her stomach to the juncture of her thighs.

"That's my job," he growled, swatting her hand away, blazing a trail of kisses along her belly, moving to lie between her parted knees. He rubbed his cheek against the soft inside of her thigh, savouring her scent, before reaching to gently part her folds. "So beautiful," he muttered, staring hungrily at her slick centre.

He eased himself closer, resting on his elbows, and traced a slow path with his tongue along her core. She gasped as he found her clit, circling then licking, sucking gently, flicking, before trailing back, slipping inside her, leaving his thumb to continue the caresses across her tiny nub. "Gene, oh God, Gene," she cried as his hand and mouth swapped places, two fingers thrusting within her as his mouth closed over her clit. "So close, yes, God, please," she begged as hips rocked beneath him and her head rolled wildly from side to side.

His control, barely tethered, broke as she tightened around him, crying his name, spilling into his mouth as she reached her peak. He needed to be inside her. Barely allowing her chance to recover he drew himself back up her body, trailing kisses as he went, till could look into her eyes. She lay beneath him, dazed, panting, a small smile playing on her lips. She hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him down to her, sliding her tongue into his mouth, raising a leg around his back. She needed him inside her too.

Positioning himself, he lifted his head once more so that he could see her face as he entered her. He eased in slowly, inch by inch, and her eyes widened, lips parted, as he reached the hilt. She sighed up at him, "Gene, my God, Gene."

It was written across her face, as clear as the vodka she sometimes drank. He wasn't the only one feeling this way. A surge of triumph raced through him at the recognition. She felt it too. He stroked a finger gently across her temple, lowered his head to her ear. Whispered, "I know."

Gathering her close he began to thrust, trying to keep it slow but struggling to control his growing desire. She felt like nothing he'd ever known, hot and wet and absolutely perfect, shaped like she'd been made for him. She whimpered at his touch, begging for more, her hips meeting his thrusts, her hands gripping hard to his shoulders. He couldn't hold back, mumbling words into her neck that he never thought he'd use.

She rocked faster beneath him, urging him onwards, racing him to the finish. Having him inside her was like finding a piece she hadn't realised was missing. "Yes, now, Gene, yes," she cried as the heat rushed through her, washing across her body, and she ached for completion, to carry him with her. His strokes were getting faster, deeper, and she knew without words he was close. Angling her hips upwards, raising her knees, she held him within her as she came, crashing around him in flash of blinding pleasure. He followed quickly, flooding into her, her name on his lips as he collapsed above her, spent and undone.

He held onto her as long as he dared, listening to her breathing return to normal, feeling her heart rate slow alongside his own. She shifted slightly beneath him and he made to move away but she held him close, pressing kisses against his shoulder. He smiled into her neck, relieved, and tightened his arms around her even as he slid from her body. Rolling to his side and pulling her with him she found herself nestling beneath his arm, her head against his shoulder.

"Well," whispered Alex. "That was unexpected." She wasn't talking about the sex.

"Indeed." He planted a kiss on the top of her head. "I never knew. Hoped. But, well. Didn't think you'd ever feel – you know…" He petered off, his usual eloquence deserting him.

"Shush," she replied softly, placing a finger against his lips. "It's enough that I do."

He gathered her closer, hoping he'd never have to let her go. He needed to tell her. "Alex?"

She placed her hand on his chest, feeling the reassuring beat of his heart. "I know."

The end

~ o x o ~

Thanks for reading this, and happy new year everybody.

I hope you've enjoyed the story – please let me know what you think, I'm always delighted to get your feedback.

And did anybody spot the link in the chapter titles?