by Ella Hayes
He hadn’t thought to check the storeroom! Maybe she hadn’t been avoiding him after all. He felt a smile straining his cheeks. ‘You should have come for me. I’d have helped.’
She nodded. ‘I know.’
It was so good to see her, but she wasn’t smiling. He tuned in to the familiar reggae track pulsing through the air. Maybe he could make her smile. He slid his hands to her waist, moving his body to the music. ‘Do you wanna dance with me, baby?’
‘Are you drunk?’
‘No!’ There was the faintest glimmer of mischief in her eyes. ‘Why?’
A smile touched her lips. ‘You told me you only dance when you’re very drunk.’
He laughed. Was it really only a week ago that he’d caught her dancing in the kitchen? At least she was smiling now. ‘Well, there are exceptions, like when I’ve been missing someone like crazy and can’t wait to hold her in my arms.’
Something stirred behind her eyes and then her hands landed lightly on his shoulders. ‘I’m sorry for abandoning you. It was wrong of me.’
She smelt so lovely. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, but first, he wanted her to dance, wanted to dance with her. He pushed her hips to the left and then to the right, encouraging her to sway with him. ‘You had people to see, a baby to make a fuss of. I didn’t mind.’ Could she see the lie cowering behind his eyes? ‘The main thing is you’re here now and I’m glad because there’s something I need to say...’
She seemed to catch her breath, and then her eyes fastened on his. ‘I’ve got something to say too.’
‘Oh...?’ Whatever it was, it was making her nervous. He felt his heart slipping slowly downwards. ‘Well, maybe you should go first?’
Her hands fell from his shoulders, then she stepped back a little, pulling at the edges of her wrap. Her smile, when it came, was small and tight. ‘I’ve found a café...well...a potential anyway. It’s in the neighbouring village to my grandmother’s.’
‘Right...’ His stomach clenched. If she was thinking about the café, then... ‘That’s great!’
‘It could be...’ She was biting her lip. ‘And Tom’s come through with the money. I got an email this morning.’
His heart slipped lower, beating hard, panicky beats. Tom! It was good that Tom had come through, but it was not what he’d wanted. He’d wanted to be the one to help, the one to... He swallowed hard, trying to sound pleased. ‘So, you’re on your way to a new adventure.’
She blinked. ‘Well, nothing’s sealed yet, but at least I know what I’m going to be doing when I get back.’ Her eyes held his for a long moment. ‘So I need to focus on that now, put in some groundwork.’ Her tongue hovered over her lower lip. ‘Joel, what I’m trying to say is that I don’t want you to be offended if I’m...if I’m too busy with things from now on to...to continue with...us.’
His legs turned to rubber. His breath seemed to be stuck. He felt his heart curling into a tight ball. Was she drawing a line under things? That couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be!
Her fingers were winding into her wrap. ‘We’ve had fun though, haven’t we, this past week, hanging out...?’ Her gaze fell from his and then she was looking up at him again, a smile struggling on to her lips. ‘You’ve been so lovely and so kind... And you’ve helped me to forget about Tom and...’ she swallowed ‘...being with you has felt like...a little holiday.’
He clenched his back teeth hard, forcing back the tide of pain that was rising and rising inside him. She thought they’d been hanging out... Hanging out? Right enough they’d said ‘no strings’, but it had never felt casual. No kiss, no touch had ever felt less than...and what about the light he’d seen in her eyes so many times? What about the way she’d touched him when they’d been making love? And it had been making love...for him. Even though he’d been confused about Astrid, it had always felt real with Emilie and he’d thought that it was the same for her too...
Kristus! How could he have got it so wrong? What was he supposed to do now? His heart was in his throat. His temples were pounding. All this time he’d been waiting for his walls to come down, but he’d never thought it would be these walls, the walls he’d somehow built with Emilie.
‘And...’ she was still talking ‘...hopefully, you’ll find some closure over Astrid soon.’
His jaw went slack. There was no point telling her he’d resolved those feelings...not now. He quashed a sudden bizarre impulse to laugh. He drew a breath, battling to keep his voice steady. ‘Yes. Hopefully.’ The noises around him were coming at him in throbbing waves. The sand seemed to be parting under his feet. If only he’d had more experience with women, with love, so that he knew what to do now...but he was clueless, floundering. A piece of timber shifted inside the fireball, sending a plume of bright sparks flying up into the air. He looked up, watching them. If only he could have been flying with them, disappearing into the dark sky. Escaping...
‘So, you had something to say too?’
He met her gaze. Her eyes looked large, lustrous...beautiful. He wouldn’t be able to look into those eyes every day for the next week. It would hurt too much to see her every day and not be able to hold her or kiss her. He’d have to go... He’d leave in the morning, first thing. He pressed a hand to the back of his neck. ‘I wanted to say that I’m leaving tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Her face blanched. ‘I mean, that’s sudden!’ She swallowed. ‘Has something bad happened?’
‘No...nothing bad.’ He dropped his hand and tucked it into the pocket of his chinos. ‘It’s just that a series of business meetings I’d fixed up in Miami has been pulled forward...’ Only the pulled forward part was a lie. The Miami meetings were genuine. He’d tacked them on to the end of his trip since he’d been flying back to Stockholm via Miami anyway. Leaving Buck Island early meant he’d have to kill time there, but he could hire a boat, cruise around the Florida Keys for a few days. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. ‘It’s why I was looking for you...to tell you...but it seems like it’s all working out for the best.’ He sawed his teeth over his bottom lip. ‘With me gone, you won’t have to cook at all, so you’ll be able to focus on your plans, which is good, right?’
She looked stung and that stung him right back. What was happening to him? He’d just lied to her about why he’d been looking for her and now he was sounding bitter. He hadn’t meant to sound that way, but he was hurting as he’d never hurt before and it was hard keeping his voice steady, never mind controlling what came out of his mouth.
He looked over to the bar, lively with happy, chattering guests. The party would be finishing soon and then they’d be able to head back to Buck Island. He’d walk Emilie back to the cottage and say goodbye, and that would be that. Until then, he would have to endure his pain, hide it somehow, because Emilie didn’t deserve his sharp, raw edges. They’d been having a fling and now she’d drawn a line under it. It wasn’t her fault that he’d fallen in love, wasn’t her fault that he was falling apart. He drew a steadying breath, forcing out a smile. ‘Hey! We should go get a shot of rum to toast the quiet café. You can tell me more about the place you’ve seen.’
She seemed to hesitate and then gave her wrap a little tug. ‘Sure, why not.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
WHAT HAVE I DONE?
Emilie sat up gasping, shoving at the quilt, scrambling out of bed, then scrabbling under it for the sandals she’d kicked off the night before. Joel! She had to see him. Letting him go without saying something...anything other than the nothing she’d managed last night was wrong, just...wrong!
She touched a strap with her fingertip and stretched more. A spreading panic was making her fingers clumsy. Flashbacks were swarming into her head... Joel swaying to the music, hazy-eyed...the warm pressure of his hands moving her from side to side...that excruciating exchange...leaving...business meetings in Miami...rum shots in the bar...telling Joel about the café in Salton..
.the dull thud of her words...the momentary brightness in his smile as he’d touched his glass to hers...
‘You’ll be a great success, Emilie...’
Her fingers closed around straps and she pulled, shuffling backwards. She couldn’t stop the memories unspooling...the cool breeze and the roar of the power boat...the dark water shifting and the inky sky. His silence and scuffing shoes...the path and the lights... Her mute tongue...her breaking heart. Breaking and breaking, silently. His eyes...dark and shuttered...at the door...that moment...that heavy, heavy moment... His lips grazing her cheek...the Swedish words he’d murmured...his shoulders stiffly moving...his pale khaki shirt...retreating...
She’d watched him go, too choked to breathe, telling herself that it was for the best. But if it was for the best, why did everything feel wrong? For once, she’d listened to her head, decided that stepping back was the only way to protect her heart, but now her head was spinning, waltzing her heart around, faster and faster, and she wasn’t sure of anything any more. Except that it wasn’t right to have let things end like that. A sob struggled up her throat. After everything they’d shared, it just wasn’t right.
She pushed her feet into her sandals, hopping over the floor to hook the strap around her heel, then she grabbed her cardigan and flew out the door, stabbing her arms into the sleeves as she ran along the path through the trees. It was early, surely early enough to still catch him. It had to be, because... One minute he’d been asking her to dance, that warm, fond look in his eyes, and the next minute, he’d told her he was leaving the next day.
In between those two things, she’d delivered her little speech about the café and about how she couldn’t see herself having time for him in the coming week and, while she’d been speaking, the sweet light had seemed to drain from his eyes. He’d been shocked, of course, but there’d been something else too, something he’d been trying to hide. She’d seen it, noticed it, but it had been so hard getting her own words out—heartbreaking words—that she’d had to push past it, blinkering herself. But now all she could see was his torn face and all she could feel was panic jabbing in her veins. Had she got everything wrong...made a terrible mistake?
She broke through the trees, running hard through the soft glow of morning, racing up the wide path towards the house, legs burning, heart pounding. She paused for breath, then took the pale steps two at a time, stumbling through the open door. Everything was silent. She ran to the kitchen, skidding to a halt in the doorway. It was pristine. Was he still sleeping?
Please, let him be sleeping.
She spun on her heel, racing through the hall, up the stairs and... The door of his room was ajar. She touched her chest, inching forward until the handle was right there. She closed her eyes, listening, heart pounding, then she pushed the door open and her heart stopped altogether.
The bed hadn’t been slept in.
Joel! She stared at the undented quilt and the smooth pillows, tears burning in her throat. She stepped closer, staring, blinking... They’d made love in that bed, showered together in the luxurious wet room, but now the emptiness was overwhelming. No! Not emptiness. It was something deeper, darker and more desolate. Was it in the room, or was it inside herself? She turned, wiping her eyes, scanning the room, looking for...what? The wardrobe doors were hanging open, flung wide. The hangers were jutting every which way as if he’d ripped the clothes right off them.
He ripped his clothes off the hangers...
Her throat closed. She sank on to the ottoman, felt a sob shaking in her belly. If he’d been packing for a business meeting, he would have been more measured. He would have closed the wardrobe doors. She bit her lips together, felt tears sliding down her cheeks. There weren’t any meetings in Miami. He’d made it up. Why? He’d got back to his room last night, thrown his things into his case and left because... Because of her? Because she’d told him it was over? She stared at the hangers, felt her lungs collapsing. Oh, God! Good with evidence, but so, so poor with intuition! She’d hurt him...made it impossible for him to stay...which meant he cared, had feelings for her...the kind of feelings she hadn’t allowed herself to believe in. Why hadn’t he said anything?
Oh, no! She dropped her head into her hands. That was what he’d been going to say on the beach! That made sense, way more sense than his sudden announcement about leaving. It tallied with the warm delight she’d seen on his face when he saw her walking towards him. It tallied with the gentle way he’d tried to get her to dance with him and with what he’d said about missing her like crazy. It tallied with everything—with everything she knew about him and with everything she’d felt when she’d been with him—with the way he’d made love to her, with the way he’d looked after her when they’d been sailing and snorkelling, even with the careful way he’d carried the cake box.
Melinda had tried to tell her. ‘It’s plain to see. You only have to look in his eyes...’
But she’d closed her eyes, because she’d thought she was falling into her old ways, weaving fantasies out of thin threads, instead of being strong and independent. She’d convinced herself that what she’d seen in Joel’s gaze couldn’t possibly have been real. She’d told herself that taking himself off without her, that never spending the night, had been his way of reminding her that what they’d been sharing was a fling and nothing more. Why had it been easier for her to believe that he couldn’t have real feelings for her than to believe that he could?
Melinda’s words fell into her ears, drumming like rain. ‘You need to believe that you’re enough...by yourself... You don’t always need a passport.’
She got to her feet, swaying for a moment, then pacing. She’d made baby Ben’s cake because she’d wanted to show Melinda and Erris how much she appreciated their friendship, but could she deny that there hadn’t been something of the passport about it too? Always that feeling inside that she had to earn love, that she wasn’t worthy of it in her own right. A sad ache filled her chest. It was the way she’d always felt. From that indefinable moment in childhood when she’d become self-aware, she’d felt aware of her isolation. She’d always felt like an atoll in the sea of her own family.
She broke step, drawing in a slow breath. Maybe her sisters had never meant to exclude her and perhaps her parents had tried to make a fist of things when they’d discovered they were having a late baby, but the fact remained, she’d felt what she’d felt and she’d been carrying those hurts around for ever. They’d shaped her. She’d spent her life trying to be noticed, working hard to make sure it happened, but always feeling so insecure about it, as if the ledge could crumble at any minute. Clinging to that ledge, and to people, needing validation all the time...
She gathered her hair, twisting it round and round, swallowing hard. It was a choice though, wasn’t it, dragging those chains around? She didn’t have to do it any more. They were too heavy, and they’d cost her too much. She was twenty-nine years old, desperate to have a family of her own, but she had to grow up, be a grown-up. She had to start believing that she was enough...really believe it.
She went to the wardrobe, ran her fingers over the hangers. On the beach with Joel the day they’d played the trust game, she’d told him that she trusted people too easily, but that she was going to change and he’d said, ‘Don’t...’
She closed her eyes, felt tears welling behind her lids again. Don’t change... That was what he’d been going to say. She could see it now, so clearly. He’d come straight out with it, tried to cover it up with the woolly wall bee hoax, but it had sprung from his mouth so spontaneously that it had to have come from the heart. He hadn’t known her then at all, not really, and yet somehow he must have known instinctively that he didn’t want her to be anything other than what she was, which was...enough!
She rubbed at her eyes and her nose, staring into the wardrobe. The hangers were straight now, lined up, one inch apart. She hadn’t noticed herself doing it. She closed the d
oors and turned, staring at the unmade bed. If Joel had left, he’d have taken the power boat because he had luggage.
She sniffed, wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands. The thing was, she hadn’t heard a boat leaving. Her heart thumped a single loud beat. She licked her lips. She’d been tossing and turning all night, barely sleeping, and the jetty wasn’t far from her cottage. Her heart thumped twice. Surely, she’d have heard the boat... Her legs started moving and then she was hurrying through the door, clattering down the stairs. She’d have heard the boat starting up...definitely...she would have.
Definitely!
She shot through the door, jumping down the steps, running down the path. Down, down, legs spinning, cardigan billowing, then it was the steps to the jetty and the short path through the trees with grit flying, nearly stumbling, slewing to a halt with a sob in her mouth.
The powerboat was there, rocking gently against the mooring, but there was no sign of Joel. She dragged air into her lungs, swallowing hard, moving forward, step after step until she was alongside. She scanned the cabin, the cream leather seats, the chrome and the polished walnut wheel and...a huge leather holdall on the deck, not quite zipped up, a leather tag dangling. It was etched with his initials. Tears filled her throat, started spilling down her cheeks. He was still on the island! Still here! There was still a chance! A chance!
She looked at the dash again, then slipped off her sandals and boarded the boat. For the hundredth time she wiped her eyes, then she pulled the keys out of the ignition, balling them into her fist. She sucked in a long shuddery breath, then jumped back on to the jetty and picked up her sandals. He wasn’t going anywhere now. Now, it was just a matter of finding him.