Diane couldn't sleep. Perhaps she had become accustomed to the lights and sounds of Gander Academy and now, when faced with the peace and quiet of her own bed, found she couldn't get off to sleep.
She suspected it had more to do with the Englishman quietly snoring beside her.
What an anticlimax, she thought. She had spent the entire afternoon eagerly getting ready for what was going to be a romantic dinner and then there was the added excitement and anticipation of having Nick spend the night (which, to be honest, she'd been hoping for even before she knew he'd been unable to find a hotel). It had all been building up to what was supposed to be a night of glorious firsts.
Well, this was a first, alright.
The first (and last) time she'd put herself out there like that. She thought back over their afternoon in mortification.
From their awkward greeting at the door to the spilled wine debacle – Diane didn't think she'd ever been felt up by accident before – to her less-than-subtle attempts at seduction, everything had been a flop.
She thought her little blue dress (saved for the most special of occasions) might have done the trick, at least she thought Nick had noticed, but then he'd gone back to talking about the roast.
She thought he'd finally been making a move on the couch (he'd been stroking her hair!) but then when she'd leaned in, put on all the moves short of literally batting her eyelashes and had whispered "let's go to bed" he'd turned around and started fluffing pillows!
Well, on second thought, those hadn't been her exact words, was it possible he just…misunderstood?
But no, surely he wouldn't have missed those signals. Nick was usually so sensitive to her needs. He was thoughtful and caring, it was one of the things that had first attracted her to him back in Gander.
And, honestly, if someone in a negligee beckoning you into her bed wasn't enough to tip him off, then maybe it wasn't that he hadn't gotten the message.
Maybe he had, and just didn't want to respond.
Oh god, she thought. I've made such a mess of things.
Determined not to let the tears that had been threatening spill out over her cheeks, Diane burrowed down further into her pillow and shut her eyes, slowing her breathing to match that of Nick's next to her.
Tomorrow was a new day and she could still enjoy the time she had with Nick, even if it wouldn't be spent the way she'd like it to be. She could still be perfectly friendly and play the good host.
Lord, give me strength, she prayed. This is going to be difficult.
Nick awoke to the earliest rays of sunlight slanting in through the gap in the curtains. It disoriented him for a moment because the Gander Academy gymnasium didn't have curtains. Neither was his army cot usually quite so comfy.
Then he remembered.
Dallas.
He was at Diane's house. In Diane's bed. And, he realised with mounting alarm, at some point in the night he had wrapped both arms and one leg around Diane herself.
He was snuggled tight against her, his nose buried in the crook of her neck, strands of her silky hair tickling him under the chin. He could feel her back pressed against his chest, one of his arms draped across her waist holding her in place. The silk of her …nightgown? Slip? Whatever it was called, it felt heavenly beneath his fingertips.
One of his legs was bent at the knee and intertwined with hers, which brought her hips in deliciously close contact with… Oh god.
Not entirely sure he could explain this away on "usual morning responses" should Diane wake, Nick desperately began thinking about cricket, the stock exchange, anything but the way Diane's curves felt pressed up against him.
She stretched and turned in her sleep, wriggling even closer and God, this was it, wasn't it? He'd died and gone to … Heaven? Hell? He couldn't quite decide which.
Nick focused on his breathing and eventually the thudding of his pulse slowed to match the pace of the woman who owned his heart.
There was little use denying it here and now where there was no one to hide it from. As he pressed his lips gently to her shoulder, Nick felt his eyes flutter closed once more and he drifted off.
The next thing that woke Nick was the feeling of soft lips being gently pressed against his forehead. Diane smiled down at him from where she was perched at the edge of the bed.
"I made you tea," she said, gesturing to the steaming mug on the bedside table.
"It's about all we have in the house. I might have to run down to the store if we're going to eat anything for breakfast," she shrugged apologetically.
"Toutons?" he asked and Diane couldn't help but laugh at the pleading expression he sent her way.
"I'm not sure I know how to make them, but I could probably whip up some pancakes," she countered. "Again, I'll have to run down the store."
As she stood to leave, Nick reached out and grabbed her hand to stop her. He gazed up at her, trying to find the right words to say everything he'd been feeling this past week. He hoped it showed in his expression. He couldn't quite tell without his glasses, but he thought perhaps he could read some of the same feeling in her eyes.
They both stayed frozen for a moment longer, caught in each other's gaze before Nick smiled gently.
"Thank you," he simply said.
She squeezed his hand in return, paused as if gearing herself up for something, then leaned down and kissed his hand before turning and bustling out down the stairs.
Nick dressed quickly and joined her, unable to keep the smile from his face.
It turned out Diane's local supermarket was within walking distance (albeit a lengthy walk and not one that was manageable with an arm full of shopping – however, in this instance they only needed limited supplies and had two sets of arms to carry them, so out they set) and as they walked Diane took it upon herself to give Nick the grand tour of all the Dallas sights including the corner where David had broken his arm falling off his bike aged 8 and the house that all the kids avoided on Halloween because everyone suspected there might be actual ghosts living there.
At some point along the way their hands had joined, swinging between them in an easy rhythm. Nick could feel something bubbling up inside him, like a warm light swelling around his heart. This was different to his usual arrhythmia. This felt like… hope.
"Thanks again for coming with me," Diane smiled. "I'm sorry I didn't have anything in the house – though it's probably for the best, given our unexpected extra time in Gander. I think any food I'd had would have been absolutely rotten by now!"
Nick huffed in agreement.
"Hang on, though, if you didn't have any food in the house, where did last night's roast come from?" he asked, puzzled.
"Oh. Well, when you called about dinner, I dashed straight out to the store – I hadn't even unpacked yet – and I didn't really think about getting anything beyond what we needed for the roast. You caught me off guard a little!" she laughed awkwardly.
"I'm sorry again about that. And thank you once more for allowing me to stay, I … I hope I haven't been too much of an inconvenience."
"Not at all. In fact, can I tell you something?" she asked, slowing their pace a little and turning to face him. "I wasn't sure how I'd go trying to sleep without having you by my side. Is that strange? To get so used to someone in such a short amount of time?"
Nick could feel that warm bubble get a little bigger.
"I know exactly what you mean," he replied.
They smiled fondly at each other before continuing on to buy their eggs and flour.
Somewhere between the store and home, the awkwardness of the previous evening had left them and the easy physicality of their relationship in Gander had returned.
Diane had begun gently teasing Nick as he carefully measured out milk into the bowl.
"Careful not to spill it like yesterday, we forgot to buy dishcloths!"
To which Nick very maturely stuck out his tongue before returning his focus to the measuring bowl.
This soon descending into them threatening to crack the eggs over each other and by the time the batter was mixed, they were flicking small dollops of the mixture at each other, shrieking and running around the kitchen bench like children.
Diane called a ceasefire, clutching her ribs and bent over in silent hysterics as she leaned against the sink.
"You've got it all over you!" she giggled, gesturing to his face with the wooden spoon. Nick reached forward, swiped a small amount of mixture from the spoon and dabbed it on her nose.
Diane gasped in mock outrage, stepping towards him and wagging a menacing finger.
"Nick Marson, how could you!"
He threw his hands up in a weak attempt at contrition and said "here, let me get that for you."
He reached out and gently slid his thumb across her cheek, wiping away the batter he found there. Nick's hand seemed to stay of its own volition, stroking her cheek as he stepped closer. Her hands had settled on his chest and he softly wrapped his free arm around her waist.
"Hey," she said softly, her eyes searching his.
"Hey," he replied, gazing down at her face before his eyes caught sight of the dollop of batter he'd smeared on the tip of her nose. "Oh, I missed a spot!" he said, before leaning down.
In future, when recalling this exact moment, Nick would say that it simultaneously happened very fast yet also went into slow motion. Diane had felt so right in his arms and her teasing had opened up the more playful side of his nature – rarely accessed in his world of spreadsheets and conferences. He'd seen a problem (the dollop of batter on her nose) and so the simplest solution had been to lean forward and swirl his tongue around the batter, wiping it clean and sealing his lips over the delicate tip of her nose with a kiss.
As he straightened up, there was a moment of hesitation from Diane that filled Nick with dread – had he read this wrong after all? Perhaps she really didn't want him here – but then she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to meet her in a passionate embrace.
Her lips tasted like pancakes and he could feel her fingers toying with the short hairs at the back of his neck. It was ecstasy.
Nick tightened his grip around her waist and deepened the angle of the kiss, pulling her closer and taking advantage of her resultant gasp to gingerly slide his tongue against hers.
He could feel her walking him backwards but it wasn't until he felt something firm at the back of his legs and heard something clatter to the ground that he realised they'd bumped into the kitchen bench and sent the pancake mix tumbling to the floor.
They pulled apart and looked silently down at the goopy mess oozing slowly across the tile. They looked up at each other again and promptly burst out laughing once more.
"So much for breakfast!" Nick said.
"I'm not complaining," Diane replied, taking his hand and leading him out to the sofa.
There was much to discuss – all of their near misses in Gander, how badly Diane had wanted to kiss Nick on the plane, how badly Nick had wanted to kiss Diane at Dover Fault, how infuriatingly awkward the previous night had been.
"Why didn't I make a move? Why didn't you make a move!?" Diane cried, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "I drag you up to bed, come out wearing a negligee and you still don't get the hint?"
"A negligee, that's what it's called" Nick mutters to himself.
She shook her head at him affectionately.
"Still, at least we can make up for lost time today," she smiled, before proceeding to do just that.
That was how they spent much of the afternoon, alternating between talking about everything and nothing and then when conversation dried up they simply reverted to kissing.
At one point, they switched on the television, but most channels were still looping footage of the events of last Tuesday, so they quickly turned it off.
"Can you believe something like this came out of something like that?" Diane asked him, toying with their joined hands.
"It doesn't seem quite fair does it, that we finally found happiness when so many people experienced such loss and destruction," he added.
"And have you found happiness?" she asked him, once again gazing up at him.
Nick settled one arm around her shoulder and pulled her towards him, planting a kiss in her hair.
"You know, I do believe I have," he said, the warm bubble of hope absolutely overflowing with joy now.
She turned her face up towards him, her lips meeting his in a gentle kiss. Nick raised his free hand up to cup her cheek, deepening the kiss once more. As Diane opened her mouth in a silent gasp, his tongue once again darted out to taste her.
She moaned softly and tilted sideways, falling into the sofa cushions and dragging Nick down on top of her. Diane thrilled at the warm weight of him pressing against her, their legs tangling together. She held him close, grazing her fingernails over his back through his shirt before reaching down to ruck it up out of his trousers and – at last – feel his smooth skin under her fingertips.
His kisses were like fire and he was hungrily trailing his way from her lips down her neck to the tender skin at the dip of her collarbone. His hands were gently tracing up and down her sides and a quick glimpse of his eyes revealed his pupils to be blown wide and dark – a thrilling sight in his usually pale blue eyes.
Diane felt her desire pooling low in her belly and, in between kisses, she managed to breathily utter "Come upstairs. And this time when I invite you up to bed, I don't mean to sleep!"
He paused to laugh gently and had the good grace to look at least a little shame-faced.
"I honestly just thought you meant it was time for bed!" he protested.
"Well this time let me spell it out for you more clearly," she purred. "I want you. Now, come upstairs and make love to me."
It was hard to ignore an order as direct and as, frankly as sexy as that, thought Nick, so he stood and in a burst of chivalry quite literally swept Diane off her feet (though they both soon thought the better of this, what with Nick's heart condition and Diane's back not being what it was).
But they walked upstairs together, hand in hand, to begin the first night of the rest of their lives.