“Then why…”

He sighed sadly. “It was an outlet, a way to forget everything. I was stupid. If you have never been close to anyone emotionally, and feared it would only end in misery if you did, then you crave it. Sex kind of appeased my lack of close relationships for a while. I see now that it was foolish. The women only wanted me for Tudor North the actor, not Tudor North the man afraid to fall in love.”

My heart cried for him.

He stared at me in complete adoration. “With you though it’s completely shattering. Making love to you, being with you… it feels like home to me. I am so happy you are mine. You’re my love, the balm to my f**ked up past.”

I smiled against his neck and sighed in contentment. “I am yours, Tude, of that there has never been doubt. Now, let’s get to sleep, today has been…” I trailed off, not knowing the words.

He squeezed me into his warm embrace, shuffling to get us in a comfortable position, “Night, gorgeous. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” and I drifted off to sleep in the arms of the most perfect man on the planet.

I woke in the early morning in the same position we had gone to sleep: wrapped securely in Tudor’s embrace and my right arm completely dead. I moved to lie on my back to relieve my numb limb, which was wedged in a blood-stopping sandwich between Tudor’s two-ton bicep and chest, when I suddenly felt woollen material on my pillow beside me. I glanced down, and lying over my left shoulder was his scarf, the scarf from ‘Skater-gate’ – my treasured makeshift pillow. It was back where it belonged: with me, in bed, on my pillow.

I gazed down at my hulking, tattooed bad-boy and smiled. He must have put it there during the night. I leaned forwards, kissing Tudor’s slightly parted lips. Almost automatically, he lifted his shoulders off the mattress, and his hand wrapped around the nape of my neck as he drew me against him further. Thoroughly pleased, I gently pushed him down as his eyes squinted, fighting the pull of sleep. “Sunshine? What–?” he croaked.

“Shh… go back to sleep, babes,” I cooed, running my finger gently along his face.

He laid back down as instructed, pulling me over him, leaving me sprawled across his sculpted bare chest. I grazed a kiss over his heart, closed my eyes and giggled.

I was in love with a big, muscled slice of Canadian Cheddar cheese and it felt freakin’ amazing!

Chapter 27

The sun will always rise tomorrow

"Tink! Hurry up, man!" I bellowed as I thumped on his door for the umpteenth time. It swung open with force, and I cracked a smirk at Tink’s outfit.

"Don't start!" he warned as he brushed past me, grimacing as he saw his reflection in the full-length mirror.

"I didn't say anything, did I?" I replied, holding back the spurt of laughter that was creeping its way up my throat.

'The Incident', as it was now known, was a few days behind us, and Boleyn had been released from hospital earlier that day, so we were headed for our first 'family' dinner at the Norths’ as a welcome-home gesture.

The local press had gotten wind of the incident and had reported that a domestic dispute had occurred in the well-to-do area, but thanks to a well-paid publicist, an even better-paid lawyer and a seven-foot perimeter fence, the neighbours and, well, the world had no idea of Tudor's involvement.

There would be a trial, of course, and Tudor had already decided that when that day arrived he would release a statement explaining his personal involvement, alongside a substantial donation to a local women’s charity. The silver lining in this whole affair was that perhaps his candid openness would help other people in similar situations by raising awareness of domestic abuse.

His “people” were still desperately working on concealing from the press his relationship to Boleyn, for her sake at school. Thankfully, due to her age, Boleyn would be hidden behind a screen when the case came to trial and would give her statements via video link. Everyone hoped that, if nothing else, we could keep her identity secret.

I was a bit worried about seeing Boleyn that night – the last time we had talked, she had told me in fairly strong terms that I was the reason her child-molesting father had returned to harm her. Not the best way to start a relationship with your boyfriend’s family. But Tudor had reassured me that she didn’t really mean it. We would have to see – a teenage grudge can be enduring, we’ve all seen Mean Girls. I wasn’t looking forward to living with that crap, given that Tudor and I were very much back on, in a very honest, very open and very touchy-feely relationship.

So there we were, the night we officially 'met the parent' as the newbie significant others, ready to be grilled by the brood North. Tink clearly wanted to make a good impression and had dressed to impress. He was decked out in a pair of brown, shapeless corduroy trousers with a white cotton shirt and his hair combed over to the side, Tink looked positively… normal. The things you do for love, eh?

He saw me muffling my giggle in the mirror and whipped around to face me. "Toss off, porky. I'm trying to impress Tate's second mam."

He looked down at himself, slumped forward, pulled a disgusted face and sighed. "I look like an ageing closeted reject from the seventies, don't I?"

The dam broke and the laughter rushed out of me. I trotted forward to cuddle my dowdily dressed partner in crime. "It's not too bad of an outfit really, but it's not you, my fabulously fay friend – you just don’t do Gap. Pamela wants to get to know you, not Norman the pot-bellied tax accountant who lives on microwavable meals for one. Go and get changed into something legendary, something that makes her believe in fairies."