Intrigue

Chapter 60

Sean's POV 

Things started looking up a couple of days later. I received a message from my sister, telling me not to forget to unblock my father's phone number, and that he wanted to invite me over for Christmas dinner. I accepted, and messaged her back, telling her that I needed her advice on something.

Malcolm was busy with work and his assignments. He messaged me frequently, and told me that he'd been in touch with Sarah, who was helping him choose the right topic for his dissertation. He then visited me around four days after we'd cooked together, after messaging me to ask if I was home.

I met him at the door. He was wearing a long black coat, black trousers and a blue sweater, together with blue sneakers, and the same black beanie he'd worn the last time he'd come over. It was now around a week and a half from Christmas, so it had gotten fairly cold by now.

I leaned against the front door, taking his image in. "You look hot," I muttered.

Malcolm walked past me, his lips curved into a smile. "I'm getting the idea that you like beanies?" he said, placing a takeaway bag on the kitchen table.

"On you, especially. Or off you, actually," I answered, arching an eyebrow. Malcolm turned, meeting my eyes with a bemused expression.

"Are you in the mood, or?" he asked me. "Because you know we can't. Otherwise I'll just head back."

I chuckled, closing the door. "It's your fault for looking gorgeous," I said. I stopped in front of the takeaway bag to see its contents. Barbecued spare ribs, fries and a salad. And a bottle of Dewar's whiskey. I looked up at Malcolm. "Don't leave, please. Or if you do, please leave this bag here."

Malcolm laughed as he took off his coat. "I'm not going anywhere," he said. He carried his coat towards my bedroom, and stopped at the bathroom on the way back. I watched, thinking how familiar all of this looked. It seemed like we'd never even split up.

But, unfortunately, we had.

"You got whiskey?" I asked him when he came back to the kitchen.

"Yeah, that's for you," he answered. I looked at him questioningly, and he exhaled before he answered. "The night we argued, when I made you watch the video... It was wrong of me to throw your bottle that way. I felt guilty, so... that's for you."

I walked up to him, stopping in front of him. "Sweetheart, that's okay, you were angry, and it was my fault." My hand trailed up his arm, and I felt him stiffen by my touch, and probably by my endearing term. "So are you going to get me a new arm, now, as well?"

"What?" Malcolm looked at me in confusion as he stepped back from my touch.

"You twisted my arm pretty strongly on the same night, too," I said, but I had a smile on my lips. I was teasing.

Malcolm frowned, then his face contorted, as if he'd suddenly remembered. "Ugh, sorry," he muttered. "Those were a terrible few days, especially that night. I was so angry at you."

I regarded him quietly. "And now?" I asked softly.

He met my eyes. "We're okay, now," he said to me.

"Good." I smiled at him, then turned to switch on the lights and get plates and cutlery. Malcolm followed my prompt, getting out glasses from the cupboard.

"I might've stopped seeing Ella every time I look at you, too, finally," he told me.

I turned to face him. "That's great." I contemplated the possibilities that his words may bring, but I didn't want to get my hopes up, now that I was starting to accept what had happened. "How are things with her?" I asked him, more so to distract myself.