The Retribution Chronicles

E p i l o g u e

Wes' hand curled around Miriam's thigh, his mouth barnacled to her neck while his voice rumbled against her skin, injecting itself straight into her bloodstream. "Ten more minutes," he said, nipping at her throat.

"We're late," Miriam giggled into their sheets.

"So what's ten more minutes?"

"Abi's wrath," Miriam pointed out. "I promised her that we'd be there by midday to help set up."

"Screw that," Wes groaned. "Let's just stay here." He hovered over Miriam, leaving teasing kisses up and down her body.

"We can't stay here," she said.

"Of course we can. In fact, I'm sure Abi will more than understand our dilemma. After all, I'm coming down with miss-my-girlfriend-itis." He pressed a hand to his forehead and crashed beside her, writing lazily.

"As dangerous as that sounds, this is Abi we're talking about." Miriam slipped out of bed, her feet sinking into the thick cream carpet that lined their room. "Plus it's the first time she's planned Daniel's birthday. I have to be there to support her, she's my best friend."

Wes began pouting, his face framed by the thick white pillows propped up behind him. "I thought I was your best friend," he said.

"Definitely not," Miriam laughed while pulling on last night's underwear.

"Whatever." Wes rolled out of bed. "But let's be honest, you don't have to be there, you want to be there." He joined Miriam in the doorway, leaned down and nuzzled into her shoulder, his breath tickling her clavicle.

Miriam rolled her eyes and stepped into the hallway, narrowly escaping his intoxicating touch by heading straight for the kitchen. "Just go shower," she shouted over her shoulder.

"Shouldn't you go first?" he asked. "You do take the longest."

"Wesley."

"Fine, fine." The sound of his footsteps dwindled, replaced by the shower, which was interrupted by the kettle. Miriam grabbed her favourite mug, painted during one of her and Wes' first dates, from the cupboard and made herself a cup of coffee, taking sixty seconds to let it rush to her synapses before she pushed off the countertop and headed back into the bedroom. She placed the coffee on their bedside table and opened the wardrobe. Her hand reached for a white dress she'd taken from Esther and never returned, then a forest green blouse, before fingering a lilac slip.

"What are you doing?" Wes' wet arms encircled her waist while his chin pressed against her scalp.

"Deciding what to wear," Miriam said, flicking to a pair of corduroy dungarees.

"Does it matter?" he asked.

The truth was likely to spark a back-and-forth Miriam knew they didn't quite have time for, so she returned to the first dress, yanked it off the hanger and chucked it onto their unmade bed before hurrying into the bathroom which was filled with steam, thick with the heady scent of Wes' sandalwood shower gel. Miriam inhaled, holding the smell until her heart thumped at an acceptable rate, then began getting ready.

It had been about a year since she last saw Ade, coincidental on her part, but Abi made it seem like he'd purposefully kept his distance. A reality which made this, their first run in, take on an almost sacrilegious quality. For if there was one thing Ade left her with, it was an overwhelming sense of guilt that was almost beat by the simmering hate which accompanied it.

It was half twelve when Miriam and Wes eventually left their flat hand in hand. They headed for the tube, separating only to pass through the barriers, before springing back together. "Ugh," Miriam said when they stepped onto the platform, Wes' arm now draped around her shoulders, "we're one of those couples."