Finally managed to update. This one's a bit filler-y. In which simply doing something about their desire doesn't actually solve everything, Joey has to deal with his leftover trauma, and they both realise love is not always idyllic, even when it's been a long time coming.
23
The restoration of Joey Boswell
Joey woke to the sight of unfamiliar pink wallpaper, the smell of linen washed in a different powder to the one his Mam used, the sight of an unused fireplace with little pink porcelain cats on the mantle.
It was as if he'd fallen into a cosy little vat of candy floss. For the first time in he didn't know how many years, he felt completely at peace. It was lovely here. Soft, warm, quiet, the noises of his family shouting at each other conspicuously absent, and as he looked around a little bit more, taking in pink sheets and a pinkish duvet, noticing the sleeve of a blouse sticking out of a drawer, last night started to come back to his mind as he realised whose flat he was in.
Martina.
He'd slept with Martina. In her flat, in front of her fire – oh, and he'd made a right dog's dinner of it too. He was pretty sure he'd caused her pain (or at best, had failed to cause the reverse), and a pang of guilt started to travel from his guts towards his throat. She'd taken it all on the chin, though, comforted him, caressed him, led him to her bed and let him sleep…she was too good to him, kinder even than he'd thought her capable of, understanding beyond what he deserved.
He rolled over, reaching for her, intent on bundling the soft warmth of her into his arms, kissing her awake, making it up to her.
And his hand alighted on a piece of paper. Joey pulled it towards himself, squinting as he read Martina's familiar curly scrawl.
Didn't want to wake you. Had to go to work. I've left some coffee on if you want it.
Look after yourself.
-M.
It felt surreal, sitting in his Mam's kitchen as though his life hadn't changed. As though the past twenty-four hours hadn't happened. As though life were just normal, untouched by the life-changing event that had swept like a tidal wave through his existence.
It had brought a sense of stability he hadn't realised he'd needed – he and Martina had finally consummated something that had been burning between them for far longer than Joey had thought, had finally dragged into the open all the errant thoughts he'd worried had been best kept locked away. His body was relieved, the aches and frustration that had plagued him satiated, the exhaustion of the past few months seemingly expunged by that one good night's rest.
How he'd gone about it, though – oh, God, the shame of it. The guilt. Desperate for her he may have been, but bloody hell, he could have made a bit more of an effort to do things properly for her sake. No wonder she'd left before he'd woken up – she was probably a bit pissed off, given how inconsiderate he'd been. He'd been so driven by his own desperation, and his own emotional closure, he hadn't even stopped to think about what she might have needed.
That was a bastardly thing to have done, his guilty conscience chastised him. That was borderline taking advantage, that was.
Aw, hey. What have you done, son?
And by the time he'd made the short trip in his Jag from her flat to his house, Joey's mind had devolved into a bout of full-blown anxiety.
Now his lust had cleared enough for his doubts to return, he was being overrun by them.
God, will she even still want me after that fiasco?
He probably held a Guinness world record for the number of times he'd pissed off Roxy, one way or another – but he'd never inadvertently hurt a woman before. That was what happened, he supposed, when you went years without it and tried to overcome your heartbreak the first time you had it off again. He'd never been so forceful either – and yes, she'd been the one to actually initiate it, but bloody hell, he could have tried to be gentler.
And it wasn't just the night itself that was tearing him to bits, but everything it stood for as well. Had he been willing to push her into a relationship before either of them were ready because of his own sexual frustration?
God, will she even want me at all? Who would, eh?
He got through the next couple of days as though under a cloud, peering through the fog enough to mumble some vague answers at his Mam or Billy when they spoke to him, zoning out mid-conversation with Evan at work and having his colleague wave a hand in front of his face in frustration. He couldn't bring himself to face Martina – even ring her. Joey was a mixture of ashamed and afraid, unsure of her reaction and unwilling to risk finding out what it was. He hadn't dared even show his face down the DSS, for fear of sparking her ire.
It wasn't until lunch a couple of days later that his head cleared.
'I thought,' Adrian said, standing up in his chair with a stack of papers in his hands, snapping Joey's mind to the here and now in surprise, 'I might read you a few excerpts of my memoirs, seein' as how they're about to be published. Irenee's read it all, of course, but I'd like a broader test audience, if I may.'
Joey blinked. Bloody hell, he hadn't even registered Adrian was here, such had been his inability to think straight. Now he'd realised he was, though, a light bulb went off in his head. Adrian, although his neuroses and artistic temperament often got the better of him, could be sensible when he wanted to be. Perhaps, it occurred to Joey, he needed some advice from a disinterested party. His insecurities were clouding his judgement – as a neutral observer, Adrian could assess the situation, perhaps help him work out how he should approach Martina.
If he didn't spend the entire night reading dreary choice passages from his book, that was.
'I was born,' Adrian began imperiously, 'during a thunderstorm, on the coldest day of winter, in 1967.'
'No you weren't!' Billy interrupted, spraying bits of half-chewed carrot. 'You were born on the 17th of September, 1960!'
Adrian glared. 'It's called artistic licence!'
'That's called false advertising, that is.'
Adrian's face had turned a curious shade of reddish-purple, but he did his best to rally and read on.
'On my first birthday it snowed all night, and the next day I can remember my tiny feet tingling in my little red boots with the cold. It was my first experience of physical pain.'
''oo wants to read a book about babies with frostbite?!' Billy demanded, once again missing the point. 'That's dull, that is.'
'Oh, God, it's like wading into a war zone, trying to achieve anything in this family! Can't I share any of the fruits of my labour, without having them turned to muck by his ignorant little gob?!'
Allowing himself to tread the fine line between helping and becoming his old self again, Joey did his best to calm the argument. He had a slightly selfish ulterior motive to keeping Adrian in a good mood – if his brother went off in an artistic strop, he missed his chance to ask the one slightly sensible member of his family for advice.
He finally got the moment alone with Adrian he craved when dinner wound down, Nellie went out, more blatant about seeing her friend these days than she used to be, and Billy ambled off as well, Connie no doubt on his horizon.
Joey put the kettle on, made a bit of small talk to keep his brother there, and then, when the tea was poured and he was quite sure his family were long gone, made his move.
'Listen, Adrian – can I have a word with yer? I need your advice on somethin'…something a bit personal.'
Adrian's eyebrows raised.
'A girl, you mean?'
'Keep it down, will yer?' Joey hissed, even though there was nobody else around. 'This is between you and me, all right?'
Adrian thrust his hand out over the table for Joey to shake.
'I'm touched. I'm very touched. You're confiding in me again. I feel…I feel honoured. It's like when we had those heart to hearts about Roxy.'
'All right, son,' Joey said wearily. 'I'm just askin' your advice on somethin', not giving you a knighthood.'
'Well, all the same, it means a lot to me you see me as someone you can trust.'
Joey shook his head. 'All right, son,' he muttered again, smiling fondly.
'What is it, then?'
The two brothers leaned in across the table, Joey lowering his voice as he began.
'You see, the thing is…you're right. There is a girl.'
'I knew it,' Adrian said smugly, 'I knew it!
'All right, steady on, son! Look, if I tell yer…just don't make a lot of palava about it. I mean, it's not what you might expect…'
'You mean because it's Martina?'
Joey nearly choked on his tea.
'Well, don't look so surprised,' Adrian was looking far too smug, having clearly just confirmed he was right. 'It's not as if I don't spend time with our Jack, is it?'
Might have known. The eldest Boswell rolled his eyes. Well, then, Jack was in for it
'When did all this happen, if you don't mind me asking? I mean, it wasn't that long ago she was ready to horsewhip you because you wouldn't come home from Scotland to sign on, and…'
His brother stopped in his tracks as it dawned on him.
'You came back because of her, didn't you?' Adrian gave a nervous little laugh. 'When she kept threatening she was gonna charge off to Gretna Green and make you see sense…'
His eyes widened as Joey sipped noncommittally at his tea.
'She did, didn't she?'
'Tell the world, why don't you?' Joey gestured for him to keep his voice down, then let out a laugh. 'She frightened the life out of me, turnin' up the way she did. But…well, it changed things between us. In between her tellin' me off and doing my head in, she…she understood. She got me through the worst of it and…I couldn't look at her the same after that.'
'You know, I did wonder,' Adrian twiddled the garish ring on his left hand, 'why she was so determined to make you come back. The way she used to talk about us, you'd have thought she'd have been glad if every last one of us was wiped off the face of the earth. Especially you. But when you didn't turn up… she couldn't stand it. Perhaps it took you disappearing to make her think…you know, I miss him now he's not around.'
'Enough to hunt me down, anyway,' Joey chuckled. He pondered this for a moment. Perhaps his disappearance had triggered some sort of revelation where she was concerned. She'd cared enough to do something about it, anyway – though Joey had tried to get an answer out of her about just what had prompted that bout of caring, and had received an ambiguous I just did in response. Perhaps his disappearance had made her realise…
'Anyway,' he pushed on before he got too carried away with the possibility, 'after I came back, we sort of….bonded over it, I suppose. But, see, the thing is…I don't know if I'm in a fit state for this. Who'd want me, eh? Left at the altar, goin' nowhere…I thought I'd have more time, you know. To be ready.'
'You're never ready for love, Joey. It just sort of…comes to you. Like a butterfly in a meadow.'
Butterfly in a meadow?! Joey restrained himself from saying anything.
'I mean, I only really just stopped grievin' Roxy; if we could say all right then, we'll take it easy, take things as they come, it might work, only…she wants summat serious. She's lookin' for the real thing, and I'm still such a bloody mess there's no guarantee I'd be any good for her.'
'Then why'd you keep spendin' time with her if you're not ready for anything?'
'It wasn't like that at the beginning, it was just…' Joey couldn't really explain. 'it was just…when I was with her all me pain disappeared. I felt…complete again, for a little while. And being with her…was the only place I wanted to be.'
'You know,' Adrian's eyes were misting over, 'that would make a wonderful song lyric. D'you mind if I just…' he'd pulled out a pad of paper now and was scribbling it down.
'Glad to know my dilemma comes in handy for your creative inspiration,' Joey smiled in spite of himself.
'Now,' Adrian had finished scribbling, and was eyeing him as though ready to impart his limited worldly wisdom, 'I don't know all that much about love. Carmen and Magdelana turned most of my recent romantic experience into a tearing-apart of my heart and torture in the trouser department. My love life was 'angin' by a thread! But…I still recognised what a good one Irenee was when she came along. And when the right sort of one wants you… you don't waste that opportunity.'
Joey squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He'd been intent on not wasting it, on pushing things forward with her as he'd planned but after the deed was done, he'd been attacked with a barrage of doubts and insecurities so powerful he hadn't dared go back to see her.
'Yeah, but she doesn't wanna mess about, and –'
'I don't know the particulars, Joey – but it sounds to me that you're making excuses. If a part of you didn't wanna be with her, you wouldn't have kept seeking her out. What I do know, is…in front of me sits a man unaware he's in love, and who's terrified to do anything about it in case his past repeats itself. But if you don't, Joey, you'll miss your opportunity.'
Joey pondered for a moment. Perhaps he was readier than he'd thought. The knife Roxy had dug into his heart was still there, the pain of being left at the altar still a sharp enough sting if he dwelt on it for too long. Then again, he'd gladly accepted she was gone from his life now; the pain had slowly evolved into a reminder of the humiliation of being rejected, rather than the loss of his beloved.
There was Martina to consider as well. He'd made it clear to her that, in his eyes, there were no half-measures, no grey areas, no casual encounters they could pretend didn't happen. That either they were in this thing together, or they weren't. And she'd seemed ready to accept that. She'd kissed him, fully aware of his conditions on that front, not only let him but encouraged him to take it further. That was notwithstanding her own feelings on the matter, her own timeline.
In love with her, though? That was pushing things a bit too far. Roxy had shredded his heart to smithereens; it was still piecing itself back together – and anyway, he hadn't graduated yet to that intensity of feeling he'd harboured for her.
Then again, what did 'being in love' even mean? It had to have more depth to it than just slavish obsession. His infatuation with Roxy had been blinding, paralysing, all-consuming. It had made him lose his mind, time and time again. He'd thought that was what love was.
What he had with Martina was a bit calmer. A bit more ordinary. Not that that burning desire wasn't there, and he wouldn't deny he wanted to ravish her again, and properly, but that was only one piece of it. He wanted to do dull things with her – sit on her sofa and eat Digestives and do crap jigsaws, talk about her dull job and eat dinner with her and then drink Horlicks and talk about really, really dull things, like buying curtains, just for the sake of her being there. And perhaps, when it came down to it, that was love – a different manifestation, but no less meaningful.
You could be, you know, son. You could be.
Not that he'd find out for certain, hiding away from her. If he wanted to work that one out, he'd have to actually put some more effort into seeing where this went.
'You're right, son. You're right.' Joey tried to lighten the mood with a tease, patting his younger brother on the shoulder. 'That A-level education of yours does come in handy sometimes.'
Well, that was it, then. He'd made up his mind. If he was going to make a go of this, he'd better do it soon, before Martina got fed up waiting for him. And he'd better stop being a bloody coward and go and face her.
He reached over the back of his seat for his jacket.
'Just promise me one thing, Joey.'
He turned back to Adrian. 'What?'
'If you've any influence with her, tell her to stop snatching me poetry portfolio and reading my drafts out loud. She shrinks my ego down to about six inches.'
Joey couldn't help it; he burst out laughing.
'I'm serious, Joey! Between her and our Billy, my confidence is hangin' by a thread! Hangin' by a thread!'
Joey was still laughing as he strode out to his Jag.
As with everything in life, Martina's expectations of a romance with Joey Boswell did not, even slightly, match up with reality.
For starters, she had to get up early the morning after their encounter and go to work. Much as she would have liked to laze in bed so she could have been there when he awoke and indulged in a few silken kisses, her job wouldn't just disappear because it inconvenienced her.
And so she'd got up, made a pot of coffee, leaving some for Joey, and gone. And when she'd come home, he hadn't been there anymore.
She hadn't seen hide nor hair of Joey for three days now.
Maybe she'd been wrong, maybe he'd needed that one night of relief and he expected they could just go back to being friends. Then again, he'd said he couldn't do that. That he was in or out, and this, she hoped, signified that he was in. She'd sort of hoped that they could have sat down, knocked that conversation over, clarified everything just to make sure. And yet she hadn't even bloody seen him, let alone got close enough to talk to him.
She was getting a bit annoyed with Joey now. Bloody Boswell bastard, finally taking that next step with her only to sod off to God knows where.
What was more, owing to the careless nature of their encounter, and the fact that she'd fallen asleep on the floor and not cleaned herself up afterwards (her carpet hadn't been cleaned in a while either; not the most sensible place to do the deed) she'd ended up with a bloody urinary tract infection as well, and she'd had to take an afternoon off work to get herself to the doctor and get some antibiotics to deal with it.
How romantic.
She was lying on her sofa now, a bit nauseous from the antibiotics, her abdomen hurting because they hadn't really kicked in yet, itemising different ways she could kill Joey Boswell, when a knock came at her door.
'It's not locked!' she called, and Joey's head appeared in the doorway, a sheepish look on his face.
'Greetings!'
Martina had never been so relieved to see him, nor so annoyed with him, her urge to pull the cushion out from under her head and throw it at him battling with her urge to cling to him and offer a prayer of thanks.
'You okay?' he asked, brow furrowing in concern.
'Not really, no,' she said crossly, burrowing backwards into the cushions. 'Where did you disappear to for three days?'
'Just business.'
Martina huffed.
'All right, it wasn't business. I was a bit worried how you'd react. Okay?'
Martina raised her head weakly. 'How I'd react?'
'To what we did.'
'You mean what you did,' she couldn't help but smirk, although she took it back again when she saw the pain cross his face.
'I know I wasn't exactly…considerate…'
'Don't fret about it, love. I told you at the time.'
'Yeah, but then you were out of there before I even woke up, and I was just worried you mightn't have…maybe you regretted…'
'Can I stop you there, Mister Boswell? Before you say something that prompts me to take off me slipper and bat you round the earhole with it?'
It hadn't occurred to her that her own disappearance had led to a bout of insecurity on his part. She supposed Joey Boswell was still more scarred by his left-at-the-altar experience than he liked to let on, was still worried any misstep would result in him being left. She'd simply wanted to let him have a good night's sleep, and she was quick to reassure him of this.
He was still looking guilty, so she decided to throw him a bone, remind him she still wanted him around.
'C'mere and comfort me. I'm not well.'
'What's wrong with you, then? I went down the Social Security to see yer and they told me you'd called in sick.'
'Never you mind, just get over 'ere so I can use you as a pillow.' She saw him hesitate. 'It's nothing catching.'
Joey came over to her, but stopped by her coffee table, picking up her box of antibiotics.
'What's this for?'
In spite of her discomfort, Martina was up in a flash and by his side.
'I said, never you mind.' She snatched it from him before he could read anything more on the packet and retreated back to the sofa.
Joey noticed her arms folded over her middle.
'Women's troubles?'
'Something like that.' She wasn't going to tell him. He'd feel guilty, and she didn't want him to. No matter how annoyed she was at him, no matter how selfish he'd been at the time, she had vowed never to let him feel anything other than fulfilment, to always let him have that night.
'C'mere.' Joey sat down, pulled her close to him, put his hand on her abdomen, massaging lightly.
'Not helping,' Martina murmured.
'Is there anything I can do?'
'You can bring me some more tea.' She laid her head back against the upholstery, eyes drooping shut, while he went off to do it.
At least he was back. A part of her still wanted to kill him, but she was glad he was.
Joey stayed with Martina until the afternoon bled into evening, doing his utmost to atone for his sins. He jumped to bring her anything she asked for, reached over to comfort her again and again, until she'd elbowed him grumpily and told him to at least do something useful if he wanted to help her, and so he'd tidied her flat for her, unsure what else he could do.
Guilty though he still was, his anxiety had settled now he'd actually seen her again. Knowing she still wanted him, that this hadn't been some sort of regretful one-off for both of them, had quelled his nausea and filled him with overwhelming relief. She still hadn't quite forgiven him for disappearing, and was making a point of reminding him, with her tone of voice, with her glares, that she was still cross with him about it. But if his absence had distressed her, he supposed, that meant she wanted him around, and he'd take her mild silent treatment over the rejection a part of him had been sure was coming.
Now night was approaching, and Joey retreated into her kitchen to ring his Mam. He hadn't told Martina he planned on staying here – he'd cross that bridge after tackling the easier hurdle and informing his family he wouldn't be home.
It was Jack who answered the phone, round on the cadge yet again, and alone in the kitchen while his Mam took Grandad's tray round.
'Listen,' Joey said, once the pleasantries were out the way, 'let Mam know I'll back tomorrow, won't yer? I'm stayin' with Martina.' Her name slipped out before he'd had a chance to censor it, and Joey kicked himself, wishing he could somehow take it back.
'Oh, yeah?' Joey could practically hear the lecherous smirk in his brother's voice. 'Bit of a nightcap, is it?'
'She's not well, that's all,' Joey said tetchily. 'I just wanna see to it that she's okay.'
'And I bet you'll do a good job of seein' to it an' all.'
'Jack!' Joey chided, annoyed now. 'She's not well – that's all, I said.'
'I saw you t'other day, you know. You walked in 'ere with a look about yer – and I said to meself, that there is the look of a man who has recently spent time in the horizontal position.'
'Oh, give over,' Joey protested, but he was aware even as the words left his gob that he wasn't sounding very convincing. After all, he supposed saying there was nothing in it technically wasn't true anymore.
Not technically, even. It wasn't true…end of.
'Listen, Joey – instead of bangin' on about how she's not yer girlfriend…why don't you just…admit she's yer girlfriend? It'd save me havin' to play bloody carrier pigeon every time you disappear to be with 'er.'
Oh, who was he fooling any more? More to the point, why was he bothering to try?
'All right, all right,' he muttered. 'Don't lord it over me for ever, though, Jack.'
'Oh, yeah?' his brother's voice was far too smug. 'Or what?'
'I'll tell Leonora what you and Brenda Maikin used to get up to in the back of your van back in the day.'
' 'oo's to say I 'aven't told her that already? We know everything about each other, us.'
'Oh, yeah? And what about that time you and Phyllis Foyle got caught by the police in that back alley?'
'Keep trying, Joey. You've got nothin' on me.' Jack chuckled as he hung up the phone.
Joey shook his head, clunking his mobile down on Martina's kitchen table and returning to the situation at hand.
Martina was still sulking at him, and though Joey wasn't entirely sure she appreciated his company at this exact moment, he preferred to err on the side of caution and keep close to her. Particularly when he'd seen empirical proof he had hurt her the other night (Joey wasn't a fool; he knew what trimethoprim was, although he was playing along with her reluctance to let on).
Joey cringed, another wave of guilt travelling through his gut.
Next time, he vowed, if she ever lets me near her again, I'll make it up to her.
He shook his head, going back into her living room.
Martina was dozing off on the sofa, the mug in her hand looking dangerously close to slipping out of her grasp and onto the floor.
'Come 'ed,' Joey gently prised her fingers off the handle, placing the mug on the coffee table. 'I think we need to get you into bed.'
'Can't be bothered to move,' Martina mumbled.
'Now look,' his stern voice didn't really work when she was half-asleep, not that he was sure it ever would in any other context either, 'you'll get a better night's rest if you're more comfortable. Okay?'
She glared blearily up at him, and Joey shook his head, leaning in to get her off the sofa himself.
'Oh, Joey,' Martina grumbled as he lifted her up into his arms, awake now and all the more irritable for it, 'how many times? I'm perfectly capable of walkin' meself, and if you have to resort to carryin' me, I probably didn't want to go there.'
'Oh, I know that, sweetheart. I know that.' Joey was placing her into her bed now, and Martina glared up at him. 'But how can I resist, when you're so tiny and the feat so easy?'
'I were feeling better I'd lynch you.'
'And if you tried, I'm sure it wouldn't be difficult for me to hoist you over me shoulder to put a stop to yer.'
Joey cackled and Martina huffed, her eyes rolling in her head and then flicking away from his face. She was sulking again, and it amused Joey, except for the fact that he didn't want to be kicked out of her flat when he was this concerned for her, when he couldn't help but blame himself for her suffering alone, when he'd just realised he might love her a bit more than he'd first thought…
'Be off with yer. I'm in no mood for your pathetic little jokes just now.'
'Well. The thing is…' Joey said, wringing his hands awkwardly, 'I thought I might stay here and watch over you.'
'If you like.' She turned over in bed, facing away from him, and Joey, unsure what his next move was, took a step in the direction of the chair by her dressing table. If he had to sit up with her to prove his devotion, so be it. With everything she'd done for him – first rescuing him from Scotland, then from his dire state – he owed her, big style.
'It's gonna be freezing in that chair,' came Martina's deadpan voice from burrowed beneath the blankets. 'While you're bein' an imposition, you may as well be comfortable.'
He was at her bedside in a flash. Joey chuckled as he climbed in beside her, a relief washing over him that she wanted him here, that, in her aloof way, with a lot of teasing she was using to mask it, she was admitting she was craving a bit more closeness from him.
'God, I feel like we're in Scotland again…only I'm you and you're me.'
Joey wondered what it had been like from her point of view. He remembered his own haze of bitterness and grief, seeing an obnoxious little DSS lady come to ruin him whom he'd simultaneously wanted to ignore, punish and ravish.
She, on the other hand, had been freezing, a bit desperate, a bit confused about her own actions, determined in spite of herself to get him out of bed and back into the real world – something he couldn't help but be emphatically grateful for. She'd driven him to the brink of madness to do what was best for him; if he had to do the same, he would.
'That was the point. Get into bed and shut up.'
'I'm already in bed.'
'The second instruction still applies.'
'Okay, sweetheart, okay,' Joey laughed again, settling down beside, her, pulling her close. She felt quite warm; he was a bit worried for a moment he might make her condition worse, elevating a temperature he hadn't realised she had until now.
'I'm fine, Joey,' she muttered, as if she'd read his mind. 'I just took two paracetamol.'
'You sure? You shouldn't overheat yourself when you've got a fever, you know.' He placed the back of his hand against her forehead.
'What was that second instruction again?'
Joey shook his head and followed it.
It was quiet and peaceful in here, and dark because the moon was on the other side of Martina's building at the moment and she was too high up to be bothered by lights outside, and being in here gave Joey the same sense of comfort it had last time. Maybe it was just the fact that it was dark and quiet in here, no brothers shouting in the next room, no streetlight coming in through the window that made him sleep better here.
Or maybe it was just that Martina was here.
Whichever it was, Joey resolved to make the most of it, and let himself start to follow her towards a state of unconsciousness.
'Joey?' Martina said through the darkness, her voice faint as her mind went foggy.
'Mm?'
'Thanks for bein' here.'
'No sweat,' Joey pulled her tighter against him, brushing a strand of hair of her face, then leaning down to kiss the spot it had just vacated, 'wouldn't want to leave me little girlfriend alone when she's at death's door, would I?'
Martina's head rose abruptly.
'Girlfriend?' She was suddenly alert.
'Yes,' Joey said, keeping his voice as serious as possible, hoping she'd realise it wasn't meant to be some sort of tease. 'I'd think it was the appropriate title to give you in this situation, wouldn't you?'
He'd argued with himself for the better part of three days about this, and had come to the same conclusion, again and again, that he was hers now, and she was his, and it had been that way for far longer than he'd been willing to admit. He'd slowly bound himself to her, and upon reflection he didn't mind. She'd been a little patch of sunshine (an ironically frosty patch of sunshine) in an otherwise dour existence, and the more he'd got to know the woman behind the mask, the more he'd started to wonder if he'd missed a trick all these years, not inviting her into his life sooner.
God, he was glad his Jack couldn't hear him say that, though. He'd never let Joey hear the end of it.
'Oh. You don't…' she paused, her hand tightening around his arm. 'You weren't just messin' me around, then? The other night?'
It stung him that she'd even consider that. But then again, the last person she'd spent any period of time with in a romantic context had been Shifty, after all. And he hadn't exactly been straight with her these past few months about what he wanted from her – and disappeared for days, to boot. She had a right to be wary.
'I don't mess around, sunshine; I told you before.' He reached over and kissed the corner of her mouth. 'I don't mess around.'
'Good,' Martina said again, her voice thick and heavy. 'I don't like that word though; I'm tellin' yer now.'
'Girlfriend? Why not?'
'It's childish.'
'Can I still call you it?' Joey pushed.
He felt her shift and sigh, and then the change in her pattern of breathing indicated she'd fallen asleep.
He supposed that meant it was all right, then.
Bit of déjà vu here. It'll take them a bit of time to get things right, but at least they've realised they'll both still be around, even when things aren't sunshine and roses. Anyway, some bigger plot developments in the next couple of chapters, so stay tuned.
