‘As happy as I can be. I am no longer tormented by my dreams. Occasionally, just occasionally, I allow myself the indulgence of glancing through those sketches and it’s clear to me my dreams were a vision. You were the woman I saw, but our paths hadn’t yet crossed. You were meant to save me and you did. You gave yourself to me in the only way you could. And that meant everything to me.’

When I throw my arms around Nico’s neck, he holds me to him so gently that my heart feels like it’s going to explode.

‘I’m not an angel, Nico,’ I whisper into his shoulder. ‘I’m just a woman who thought she knew what love was, only to discover that I knew nothing.’

December 2020

35

Two People, One Life

It’s been a busy day and as I head for Nico’s studio, a canvas is calling me. Tonight I hope to put the finishing touches to one that Isabel has been pressing me to complete ready for her next exhibition.

But when I swing open the door, to my utter surprise the room is dotted with the tiny flickering flames of a myriad of tea lights. Nico is seated in amongst a pile of cushions scattered over a rug. Next to him is a wine cooler holding what looks like a rather interesting bottle of wine and a hand-tied posy of electric blue, winter-flowering irises. I raise one eyebrow as I look at him, a tad disapprovingly.

‘What’s going on?’ I demand, as I walk towards him.

The teasing look in his eyes is enigmatic. The Mona Lisa’s sardonic smile has nothing on him when he’s up to something.

Nico jumps up and as I lean forward to kiss his lips very briefly, I have no intention of getting sidetracked. He slides his arms around me and one kiss turns into two, then three. The trouble is that he’s irresistible and he knows it.

‘Hmm. You taste good. Sweet, even. Have you been eating cake?’

I laugh as he pulls back, accusingly. ‘I might have been tempted by something Margot wafted under my nose. Unfortunately, she left the plate next to me as I helped unload the dishwasher.’

‘Well, that explains why you’re late. Okay, you need to sit here. In the middle of the rug.’

I screw up my face. ‘On the floor?’

‘On the floor.’

‘But I need to work.’

‘Work can wait.’

The flickering light is soft and relaxing. He grasps my hand as I lower myself down and begin to make myself comfortable.

I glance up as he towers over me. ‘Will you please sit down. You’re making me nervous. Am I going to get a glass of that non-alcoholic bubbly, or is it only for show and you’re going to whip out a sketch pad?’