That smile had my body reacting in ways I never knew existed. My heart raced, butterflies filled my stomach, my mind went blank, and a nervous sweat broke out all over me. I couldn’t process all of that at once and engage in conversation. So much for women being able to multi-task.
“I’ll let you return to your breakfast. It’s probably going cold.”
“Thanks for talking to me,” I said, finally getting a grasp of some sort of coherency. “I’ll see you tonight?”
“Eight p.m. sharp.”
He gestured for me to pass him on the stairs and we headed down the rest of them in silence. When we reached the bottom, he stepped in front of me and held the door open for me to re-enter the café.
“Thank you,” I said, blushing.
“My pleasure. I’ll see you this evening. If I don’t text you first.” He gave me a cheeky wink and headed towards the front door as I made my way back to my table.
Dad looked up at me, and then caught sight of Marcus walking past the window. “I thought he’d left already?”
“Nature called apparently,” I said, sitting back down.
Dad frowned. “I swear I didn’t see him come back in.” He pointed his knife at my food and said, “Come on, pumpkin. Eat up before it goes cold.”
Before I’d bumped into Marcus in the stairwell, the thought of food seemed disgusting. Filled with nausea, I didn’t want to face anything, even Sue’s world class cooking. However, my brief talk with Marcus had eased all my negative feelings and I felt surprisingly good.
I scooped up a load of beans and plonked them onto my toast. When I took a bite, I remembered why I loved Sue’s food so much.
“I think we need to discuss some boundaries regarding my illness, don’t we?”
“What do you mean?”
“This isn’t going to work if you keep running off and crying every time it comes up.”
I put my fork down and finished my mouthful of food. “So I’m not allowed to cry about the fact my dad is dying? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Caitlyn, come on. It’s not like it’s you that’s dying. I’ve come to terms with it so why can’t you?”
My jaw dropped. How could he say something like that to me? “Maybe so, but I’m the one that’s got to continue living in a world without you in it. Once you’re gone, that’s it. No more drama for you, but that’s not how it is for the rest of us, the people you’re going to leave behind.”
He pursed his lips. “I’m sorry, I’d not thought of it like that.”
My mini victory felt nothing but sour. I ate the mushroom and stabbed another one so hard, the fork tongs screeched against the ocean blue plate my food had been served on.
“I’ve had to face this head on, Caitlyn, because there’s no other way to deal with it. I know it must be hard for you—”
“To hear my dad talking about dying? Yeah, no kidding. It’s like you don’t even care.”
“Of course I care. I’m just being realistic. If I talk about it openly then it’s somehow easier to accept and deal with.”
“For you.”
He sighed and finished the rest of his breakfast. I forced my food down me, telling myself that arguing with my dad about his frank acceptance of his terminal illness was not how I wished to spend my limited time with him.
“I’m sorry,” I said, finishing a cold hash brown. “I shouldn’t pass my emotions on to you.”
“It works both ways, pumpkin. Let’s just say from now on that the whole cancer thing is…Austria, hmmm?”
I frowned for a minute, then realised what he meant. “You could have just said neutral, Dad.”
“Sounds better putting a name to it.”
I smiled at him as I finished the last of my stone-cold food. “You know what else belongs in Austria?”
He grinned. “I’m guessing something along the lines of discussing eligible bachelors?”
“Anything to do with that subject, Dad. It’s just downright embarrassing.”
“He was asking my permission to take you out, Caitlyn. Do you know how many guys do that these days?”
“None.”
“Exactly. I think it’s a very admirable thing. It says a lot about his character.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Years. I knew his father, too.”
“Why have I never seen him before?”
Dad shrugged his shoulders. “In his younger days he used to travel a lot, either hiking or fishing. He’s only really settled down the last year or so.”
“Come on then,” I said, standing up. “Let’s get the day done with seeing as I’m now going out tonight.”
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
“You mean go out in the dark with an absolute stranger to a haunted abbey?”
Dad laughed. “You’ll be fine. Do you really think I’d have agreed to it if I didn’t trust the guy?”
“That doesn’t make it any easier to deal with or any less embarrassing.”
Chuckling, Dad led the way out of the café and onto the rest of our day. We hit all the usual sites—Bram Stoker’s Bench, the Whalebone Arch, the Lighthouse, the Captain Cook Museum, and the RNLI Museum.
“Are you done, kiddo?” Dad finally asked.
I looked at him and felt a tug of sadness in my heart. He looked exhausted. His face had paled several shades, his eyes had developed bags under them, and his breathing had become really short and shallow.
“Yes, Dad,” I said, remembering our Austrian promise.
“Fancy the Four Seasons for tea?”
It had been such a lovely day after a shaky start, I couldn’t tell him no to his favourite place for steak. “Sure.”
We wandered down the street towards the restaurant in a comfortable silence and to my surprise, Dad hooked his arm around mine. A sense of love and happiness swelled inside me in an instant.
“I love you, Daddy,” I said, patting his hand gently.
“I love you, too, pumpkin,” he replied, squeezing my arm.
I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d still be here this time next year. Could he be the exception to the rule, the one in a million diagnosis that might be wrong? Maybe he would actually beat this disease and live longer than expected?
Fighting the urge to discuss it with him, we ambled into the modest restaurant. Brown leather benches, dark wooden tables, and leather chairs, the entire ambience of the place said comfortable but modern. The food was absolutely exquisite though and well-priced considering.
The waitress came over and took our orders—we didn’t even need to look at the menu to work out what we would be having. Dad would always have his usual steak and chips, and I'd always have my usual of fish and chips.
After the waitress went back to the kitchen, Dad reached across the table and took my hand in his. “How was your first night in your new home?”
I grinned. “Surprisingly good.”
“Surprisingly?”
“It feels so strange down there. I'm used to it being all dark and dingy and the smallest squares of light being let in from those horrible windows. Now it’s like a star has exploded in there and lit everything up.”
He chuckled. “I wanted it to be somewhere you would enjoy being.”
“It’s definitely that. I still can’t believe it. You shouldn’t be spending all this money though, Dad. I'm worried.”
His eyes glazed over, and he frowned slightly. “Money belongs in Austria, pumpkin. It's not for you to worry about. I'm big enough and ugly enough to work out my finances according to what’s needed.”
I pressed my lips together. At this rate, everything was going to belong in Austria. There had to be some sort of compromise here, he was shutting me out.
The waitress brought our drinks over, cutting the conversation dead. I thought back to my little apartment and sighed in contentment. Having a TV come out the end of my bed had been last night’s entertainment. I hadn’t moved an inch. I had another TV
in the small lounge area. It sat underneath two of the windows, on the wall, with a curved cream sofa in front of it. The problem with it though—the sofa wasn’t my bed.
Lucious long pile rugs had been strategically placed in different areas, all of varying colours, to break up the open plan and sort of act as dividers. I had 3 lilac coloured rugs around both sides of the bed and at the bottom which matched the lavender coloured bedclothes. An oak bedside table sat one side of the bed and a matching wardrobe with drawers integrated sat the other.
The kitchen had all grey marble effect worktops and a slightly off-white colour for the cupboards. I even had a breakfast bar as well as a four-seater oak dining table. I couldn’t wait to video call Mum later and give her a tour.
“I was wondering, pumpkin,” Dad said, sipping at his steaming cup of tea. “How you would feel about helping out around the hotel?”
“Of course. I don’t expect to stay there for nothing.”
“I’ll pay you of course, a proper wage.”
“Dad, after what you’ve done for me with my room, I don’t expect a penny.”
“Less of it,” he said, his voice stern. “I’m not having you work for nothing. You need money to live and the hotel needs an extra pair of hands.”
I sighed. “Ok, if you insist. But I'm not happy about it, just to make that clear.”
He laughed. “I’d expect nothing less.”
“When do I get to meet this amazing handyman slash house remodeller slash interior decorator?”
“He’s a very busy man. He doesn’t just work for me. The council also employ him to keep the greens neat and tidy and a few other hotels use him too. I think he’s coming by tomorrow though to do a few things to one of the rooms.”
I had visions of a retired grey-haired man in my head for some reason. “What do you need help with around the hotel?”
“Joanna is struggling to clean all the rooms to a reasonable standard, especially when she brings in Cora and Karina. I was thinking you could each take your own rooms or take charge of specific duties, whatever is easiest for the both of you.”
“Probably easier to each take definitive tasks but I'll sit and have a chat with her about it tomorrow.”
“I don’t expect you to start straight away, you need a couple of days to settle in.”
“I’m fine, Dad. Other than our outing today, it’s not like I have any plans.”
He chuckled. “You never know what’s around the corner, sweetpea.”
I knew without a doubt he was referring to my ‘date’ this evening. My stomach churned as I wondered what exactly would happen. At this moment, I wished harder than anything that I had my bestie, Hannah, with me. She’d know exactly what to do and say. In fact, if she were here, I'd probably send her on the date for me.
“I’ve still not forgiven you for trading me off,” I said, smirking at Dad.
He chuckled. “You might be thanking me yet.”
That stopped me in my tracks. What if it all went well? My heart lurched. Then my brain kicked in. No. No way would this go smoothly.
Chapter 4
By the time we got home, just after six p.m., I felt washed out and tired. My mind wouldn’t rest from how exhausted Dad looked. I wanted to do something to help him, but I couldn’t. I was as helpless as he was and that killed me.
I headed to my room and flicked the lounge TV on, letting Bones rattle away in the background as I debated the best thing to wear for tonight. Traipsing around a field denoted jeans and trainers would be the best option but the fact it had been labelled a date, according to my dad at least, kind of commanded something a little classier.
Flicking through all my clothes, I decided that what I wore ultimately depended on how I viewed this evening. A handsome man had offered to take me on a tour of the abbey. That meant it wasn’t a date. He hadn’t asked me out to dinner after all.
“Jeans it is then,” I muttered to myself.
I glanced at the clock, surprised to see I’d managed to waste nearly ninety minutes agonising over my choice of clothes. Did this mean I wanted it to be a date? I shook my head, refusing to change my mind again. Jeans and a nice top with trainers. I was hiking to the top of those darn steps. Couldn’t do that in high heels.
Evening rays of sunlight spilled through the window, bathing my apartment in oranges and pinks. By the time we reached the abbey, it would be twilight for sure. Then darkness would fall all too quickly. My heartbeat quickened just at the mere thought of going back there again at night. I wondered if revisiting the source of my nightmares would make them worse or cure them all together.
“Cat,” Dad yelled down the corridor. “Marcus is here.”
I glanced at the clock. He’d arrived five minutes early. I’d only managed to get dressed and ruffle my red curls. I agonised over making him wait so I could apply some quick make up or just going barefaced and free.
“Screw it,” I whispered to myself. “Au natural it is.”
Telling myself that wearing makeup whilst essentially working out didn’t make sense, I headed out, each step making me wish I’d taken the time to apply just a light coating of powder or refreshed my mascara from the day’s wear.
Dad held open the door, his worn out look now replaced with one of happiness and a cheeky glint in his eyes.
“Your chaperone awaits,” he said, grinning.
As I reached the door, I saw Marcus stood to the right, leaving a gap between him and my dad so I could get out. My heart skipped several beats and my breath caught in my throat. He looked incredible. I couldn’t understand why someone as suave as him had an interest in me.
Wearing dark blue jeans, a crisp white shirt, and shiny black leather shoes, I felt a little under dressed in my ensemble of faded jeans, trainers, and a casual/smart vest top with little diamantes around the scoop neckline.
“Hi,” Marcus said, his voice smooth like honey, covering me in goosebumps.
“Hey,” I replied, very conscious of my slowly heating cheeks.
“This is for you.” He produced a bouquet of half a dozen red roses.
My entire face erupted with heat. My jaw dropped. “Oh!” I said, shocked. “Thank you.”
I looked at the roses and found myself immediately struck by their perfection. Not a single blemish on any of them, not a single nick in a petal. Their colour struck me, so rich and vibrant, they literally looked like red velvet.
“Would you like Sophie to put them in water for you?” Dad asked, closing the door behind me.
“Err...yes, please.” I couldn’t quite think straight. I hadn’t expected this in the slightest. This meant Dad had been right about it being a date.
Dad took them from me and flashed me a smile. “Have a good time, pumpkin. I’ll see you in the morning.”
My heart catapulted itself around my chest. Was he insinuating I would be out late? Pushing the thoughts away, I nodded in return and watched him walk back inside the hotel.
Marcus held his hand out and gestured with his other towards his sleek black car. “Your carriage awaits.”
“What is it?” I said, roving my eyes over its smooth curves and low stance.
“It’s a Maserati GranTurismo.”
“It’s gorgeous. Oh, wait, Maserati. Is that the one that has Poseidon’s trident as a logo?”
Marcus chuckled. “Yes, it is.” He leaned down and whispered, “I’ll let you in on a little secret—that’s why I bought it.”
I laughed, fairly certain that couldn’t be the real reason, but it made me relax. “I love mythology. Greek is my favourite.”
“Interesting,” he said, raising one dark eyebrow. “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
I smiled at him and blushed.
“So tell me about this story,” he said. “I’m intrigued.”
I felt at ease around him for some reason, it felt like his entire energy just oozed calmness and tranquillity. Conversation seemed to flow well so far and everything about him invite
d me in, made me feel peaceful and safe.
“Whitby is my birthplace,” I said.
I looked at his still offered hand and hesitated for a brief moment, glancing up into his bright blue eyes. Warmth and compassion glowed back at me. I placed my hand in his, my heart racing to new speeds. I don’t know what I expected but I didn’t expect his skin to be silky smooth and radiating heat. As he closed his fingers around the back of my hand, I struggled not to become lost in the notion we were holding hands.
Our eyes locked and for a brief moment, I became nothing but at his mercy, stunned by his beauty and silenced by his touch.
He led me to the car and opened the passenger door for me. “Whitby is your birthplace,” he said, encouraging me to continue my story.
Jolted back to reality by his words, I ignored the heat raging through me and carried on. “I’ve always loved the abbey. I don’t know why. Something about it has just always really drawn me to it. Anyway, as you’ve already gathered, my dad and I do tourist hotspots the first day of every visit I make. It’s just our ‘thing’. Obviously, I know the legends of Dracula and I wanted to see if the abbey was different at night.”
Marcus smirked. “Everything is different at night. But it depends on your perspective. If you have it in your mind that things will be different, then you’re going to be looking for it.”
He closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side, sliding into the leather seat with the grace of a dancer. He moved with such elegance it seemed like he glided, like it cost him no effort, all perfectly natural and flowing.
“I expected to see the White Lady,” I said, giggling.
“As in the one from the Marmion legend?” He eased the car out onto the streets, seeming to have no trouble concentrating on the car, the roads, and me at the same time.
I nodded. “Although some say she’s Lady Hilda, you know, the abbess.”
He chuckled. “I can assure you, neither exist in ghostly form.”
“In a town with so many supernatural myths, how can you possibly know that? There’s no smoke without fire.”
Love, Lies and Immortal Ties: A young adult paranormal romance (Love, Lies and Ties Book 1) Page 3