Out on the huge expanses of polar ice he was a hero. Here in the real world he felt awkward and inelegant. The idea of someone like him with a woman like Frankie was not just stupid, it was absurd. He might as well try and capture a flame in his hand.
Only last night, for the first time in his entire life, he had felt as if he was standing in the flames with Frankie.
He knew that it had never been like this with any other woman. Never been so easy, so intimate. So personal. But then before it had never mattered who he was with. This time it was all about Frankie.
‘Hey,’ he said softly, seeing her faraway expression. ‘Where have you gone?’
She smiled. ‘No, I’m here. I was just thinking...’
He was torn, caught between the need to know more and the fear of what he might hear.
> ‘About what?’
‘I was just thinking how strange time is when I’m with you. Sometimes it seems to stretch on for ever, and then other times it feels like everything has sped up.’ She bit into her lip. ‘Does that sound stupid?’
Staring at her steadily, he shook his head. ‘When I’m with you everything feels so much sharper. Colours, sounds...’
There was a glow to her now, like the halo of light around the sun, and it would be so easy in the post-coital haze of intimacy and tenderness to step into that light.
He tilted her face, and the fragility of her neck and the delicate bones of her shoulders felt like a warning—a reminder of how easy it would be to hurt her by promising something he couldn’t give.
So there would be no Perhaps if... or Maybe some day...
But he could be honest. He wanted to be honest.
His thumb stroked the upper bow of her mouth as he looked into her eyes. ‘It’s not been like that with other people. It’s never been like this for me before.’
She breathed out shakily. ‘Me neither.’
‘But it works, doesn’t it?’
Her expression was hazy, and then she nodded, and he knew that she was everything he wanted in the world right now.
And then he was pulling her closer, telling himself that when the time came he would let her go without a backward glance.
It was the only way.
* * *
They were eating lunch in the kitchen. Frankie was telling Constance about her dip in the sea, and he was half listening, half watching the play of emotions over her face, when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.
Since that day on the beach, when Frankie had told him about the accident, he’d left it on silent, and he was all ready to ignore it until he saw the name on the screen.
Johnny.
‘I’m just going to get this,’ he said and, pushing his chair back from the table, stood up and walked out into the hallway.
‘Arlo.’
At the sound of Johnny’s voice he felt a rush of relief fill his chest. Like most siblings, he knew the tell-tale signs of distress in his brother, but there was no breathless note of panic.
‘Hey, little brother. Nice of you to get in touch.’
Johnny groaned. ‘I know... I know. I’m useless. I really was going to call—’
The line was so clear that if he closed his eyes it would be as if Johnny was standing beside him, and he felt a sharp stab of longing to reach out and hug his brother.
‘It’s just been completely mad. Honestly, Hollywood people are crazy.’