The Beach Reads Book Club: The most heartwarming and feel good summer holiday read of 2021! (The Kathryn Freeman Romcom Collection, Book 5)

Home > Other > The Beach Reads Book Club: The most heartwarming and feel good summer holiday read of 2021! (The Kathryn Freeman Romcom Collection, Book 5) > Page 22
The Beach Reads Book Club: The most heartwarming and feel good summer holiday read of 2021! (The Kathryn Freeman Romcom Collection, Book 5) Page 22

by Kathryn Freeman


  ‘Suppose you don’t need my help anymore.’

  Matt halted. Was the man upset Audrey was working there? ‘I’ve always needed your help. Still do.’ He paused, pushing himself to say the words he should have said right at the start of this project. ‘I wanted this to be a family shop. You, me, Amy, all working together.’ His throat felt tight, the words not coming easily, yet Matt knew if his relationship with his dad was going to move on, to grow, it was important he said them. ‘I know it’s not what either of you chose, and I understand if you’re not interested, but there’s nothing I’d like more than to build this business together.’ He swallowed. ‘There’s nobody I’d trust more to help me than you.’

  His dad took another swig from his glass. When he finally looked at him, Matt was shocked by the shame in his eyes. ‘I can’t use the flaming till.’

  ‘That’s the reason you don’t want to work in the shop?’

  His dad shuffled his feet. ‘It’s a bloody good reason. The thing terrifies me. No point having someone help who can’t take the money.’

  Matt would have laughed, but he could see how embarrassed his dad was. ‘There are ways round that, if you’re interested,’ he said carefully. ‘I didn’t show you properly in the first place because I was still getting to grips with it myself. Six months on and I think I’ve mastered it, so if you want me to show you again, I’ll be a better teacher. Or we can just replace the damn thing with something simpler.’ He smiled at his dad. ‘Or there’s always Audrey’s solution – you can write everything down for me to enter later.’

  His dad barked out a laugh. ‘That’s how the old dear is playing it, eh?’

  ‘Apparently the old ways are the best ways.’

  ‘She’s not wrong.’ Now when his dad’s eyes met his, Matt saw humour and mischief. ‘How helpful was she?’

  ‘She made up her own sales deals, knocked over the display I’d spent the morning setting up, forced me to remove the battery from the door chime, so I didn’t know when the customers came in.’ He smiled. ‘Aside from that, I think she’ll be an asset.’

  His dad chuckled. ‘Sounds about right.’ He looked again at Matt’s glass, his eyes narrowing. ‘So it wasn’t Audrey’s arrival that drove you to drink. Which begs the question, why are we drinking whisky?’

  Matt could fob him off, say he just fancied a drink, or that Audrey’s ‘help’ meant he’d have a lot of catching up to do tomorrow. But if his proud dad could lower his defences enough to admit he was scared of the till, Matt could surely admit to his own fears.

  ‘Probably a conversation best had sitting down. For me, anyway.’

  They walked towards the sitting room and as he sat down opposite his dad, Matt perched forward, the tension back in his gut.

  His dad sat back, observing him. ‘Is this about Lottie?’

  Matt swirled the whisky around in his glass. ‘How did you guess?’

  ‘Because only a woman can screw with a man’s head enough that he resorts to the hard stuff on a Monday.’

  Matt half smiled. Placing the glass down on the coffee table, he rested his arms on his thighs and tried to give voice to the emotions running rampant in his head.

  ‘You don’t have to tell me,’ his dad interrupted, misreading his silence. ‘You never did like talking about yourself. You’d tell us how the football team had done, what the teachers were like. What grades you got. But never how you felt.’

  Because I was miserable. How could a child tell his parents that, when they’d been so proud he’d earnt a scholarship to go to the school? He couldn’t turn the clock back, but he could try and build bridges now. ‘Lottie is out with her ex tonight.’ Inhaling a deep breath, he looked over at his dad. ‘I’m terrified she’ll want to go back to him.’

  Surprise flickered across his dad’s face. ‘This is serious then, you and her?’

  Matt reached for his glass again, needing something to do with his hands. ‘It wasn’t, or at least it wasn’t supposed to be.’ He took a sip, trying to work through his feelings. ‘She wanted fun and I … I couldn’t resist her. She’s light to my dark, laughter to my serious, open to my closed. Warm to my cold.’ Emotion surged through him, pricking at his eyes, tightening his throat. ‘I’m not right for her, wasn’t ready for her.’ The lump in his throat felt like a boulder. ‘But I fell for her anyway.’

  ‘You’re not cold, son. You keep your feelings hidden, like me. Used to drive your mum mad,’ he added with a sad smile. ‘Doesn’t mean you’re not capable of loving deeply, but it does mean Lottie won’t know how you feel unless you tell her.’

  Matt knew his dad was right, but would it make any difference? She’d loved Henry once, would still be with him now if the man hadn’t moved away. It was hard to see a scenario where seeing him again wouldn’t bring those feelings flooding back. Where Henry wasn’t currently holding her hand, looking deep into her sparkly grey eyes. Where she wasn’t falling for him all over again.

  His gut churned and Matt swigged back the rest of his whisky, hoping to quell the rising nausea.

  It didn’t help.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  As Lottie walked along the seafront with Henry, she looked down at the hand that had just clasped hers. It felt both familiar, and wrong.

  Much like the evening.

  It was still warm so they’d opted not to go out for a meal, but to eat fish and chips on the beach like they used to. It had meant she hadn’t needed to push Chewie on her parents again, though the poor guy looked confused to see her with a man who wasn’t Matt.

  He wasn’t the only one confused. Even as they’d laughed, drinking lager and chatting about old times with all the familiar ease, Lottie had thought of Matt, and how he would have been horrified. No dressing up, no smart restaurant. Greasy food.

  ‘You’ve gone quiet.’ Henry gave her hand a tug. ‘Talk to me, Goldilocks.’

  Henry flashed his wide, easy smile and something in her chest shifted. A memory, maybe. Or something real. It was good to see him. He looked better than ever, his blue eyes bright against his tanned face, fair hair bleached by the Californian sun. ‘I’m thinking I shouldn’t be holding hands with you.’

  She pulled her hand away and hurt came and went in his eyes. ‘Worried the boyfriend will see you? Friends can hold hands, you know.’

  ‘I’m not worried about Matt. It just doesn’t feel right.’ She glanced into his handsome face. ‘You must have dated since you left here. How would you have felt holding my hand if I’d come out to see you?’

  His gaze held hers. ‘I would have gripped it tight and never let you go.’

  She sucked in a breath as she felt a dart of pain in her chest. ‘You can’t say that. You’re the one who left me.’

  ‘And I’ve regretted it every day we’ve been apart.’ He halted, turning to face her. ‘Lottie, I’m still madly in love with you. Yes, I dated out there, but none of it was serious, none of it meant anything. You were always in my heart.’

  Oh God. He’d always been so good at this, she realised. Telling her how he felt, making her feel special. She’d known, absolutely, where she stood with him.

  But then he’d left.

  ‘You put your career before me, Henry.’ She pushed her hands in her pockets so neither would be tempted to hold hands again. ‘I don’t blame you for it, I get that it was important for you to do that, but it changed everything between us and our lives moved on. We can’t just go back to the way things were.’

  He exhaled in frustration. ‘I’m not asking for that.’

  ‘Then what are you asking for?’

  His eyes searched hers, and she still felt their pull. They were the first things she’d noticed about him: so pretty, so eloquent. But now she’d experienced deep and mysterious.

  ‘I’m asking you to give us another chance. I’m not starting work for two weeks. Let me stay with you until then. Prove to you what we had is still there, still worth fighting for.’

  Memories of their ye
ars together hovered, pushing into her consciousness, reminding her of the laughter, the fun they’d had. Dating Henry had been like dating her best friend: easy, stress-free, mellow. They had shared interests, knew what each other was thinking. With Matt everything felt sharper, more electric. High definition rather than soft focus. And no, they hadn’t had a chance yet to label what they had, but it didn’t mean it was any less real. ‘I have a boyfriend, Henry. You can’t stay with me.’

  He nodded, a determined set to his jaw. ‘Okay, fine. I’ll stay in a hotel. But I want to see you, spend time with you.’

  Irritation pricked. ‘I work. I can’t just take two weeks off on a whim.’

  He looked like she’d kicked him. ‘But you work for yourself. I’m sure you could jiggle customers around and find some time for us, if you really wanted to.’

  She had a van that needed a new head gasket. A house that needed both money and attention. Yet she could never refuse those blue eyes. ‘I’ll try and make time to see you for lunch.’

  ‘Okay, lunch is good. I can work with lunch.’ He smirked. ‘Now we’ve just got to agree weekends and evenings.’

  She blew out a breath. ‘Henry, I’m seeing—’

  ‘Someone, I know.’ He gave her his wide charm of a smile. ‘But I’ve only got two weeks to persuade you. I need as much of your free time as I can get.’

  He was exasperating, yet he was also the Henry she’d fallen for. The one who used his considerable charm to bulldoze through her objections until she’d end up wondering why she’d ever objected in the first place. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  He grinned. ‘Thank you.’

  They carried on walking, Chewie doing his usual sniff and wander, while always keeping an eye on where she was.

  ‘When was the last time you windsurfed?’ he asked as they strolled past the sailing school where boards and sails were neatly stacked.

  ‘A few weeks ago actually. I took Matt.’

  ‘Was he any good?’

  Lottie smiled as she remembered the day. It had been the first time she’d seen the lighter, relaxed side of him. ‘It was his first time. He spent most of it in the water.’

  ‘Maybe we can all go on Saturday.’

  Lottie glanced at Henry. ‘You just want to show off in front of him.’

  Henry laughed. ‘Busted, but hey, it would be good to get back in the sea. California is great and all that, but you can’t beat the murky English Channel.’

  ‘At least the Channel doesn’t have sharks,’ she countered. ‘We can’t do Saturday, Matt has to work.’

  ‘Even better.’ She elbowed him and he laughed. ‘Okay, okay, we could make it Sunday instead.’ He kicked at a ball hidden in the scrub, then picked it up and threw it for Chewie, who raced along, ears flapping.

  Another point to Henry, she guessed. Chewie seemed to have taken an instant liking to him, unlike the tentative truce he had with Matt.

  ‘So what does he do for a living, this Matt?’ Henry asked, pushing his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans as they stood and watched Chewie. With a rip at the knee, and worn patches on the bum, they were the type of jeans Matt wouldn’t be seen dead in, she thought with a wry smile.

  ‘He took over the bookshop on the front. You know, Books by the Bay.’

  ‘Bookshop owner, huh? Aren’t they usually crusty old guys? Bookworms whose own lives are so dull, they have to resort to a fantasy land to spice it up.’

  She halted, staring at him. ‘Is that what you think of me? That I read because my life is dull?’

  ‘Of course not. You’re not a bookworm.’ He flashed her a grin. ‘More a book butterfly. Sure, you like to read, but you don’t spend all day in the dark, burrowed in books. You flutter between books and real life.’

  ‘That’s true of all people who love books.’ She paused as he picked up the soggy ball Chewie had dumped at his feet and threw it back onto the beach. ‘I started up a book club.’

  ‘For real? Is it full of worms or butterflies?’

  ‘Come along next Thursday evening and find out for yourself.’

  He smiled, eyes glinting. ‘Now you’re getting the hang of this. What are we going to do for the other thirteen evenings?’

  She rolled her eyes, but as he walked her back to her place, she wondered what exactly she was going to do while he was here. On the one hand, she really enjoyed seeing Henry again. America hadn’t changed him. He was still easy, laid back. Fun. But that feeling when her stomach dipped and she thought her heart was going to burst out of her chest … she didn’t get that when she looked at him. Maybe she’d never had it.

  Yet she felt it the moment she thought of Matt.

  Tuesday morning, and Matt had been up since the crack of dawn, run eight miles along the seafront and was now pushing his cereal bowl into the dishwasher, ready to walk to work.

  He felt shattered, thanks to a night tossing and turning. His heart knew Lottie wasn’t Patricia, she wouldn’t sleep with Henry behind his back, but it didn’t stop his tortured, sleep-deprived mind from making up gut-wrenching scenarios.

  It didn’t help knowing that this wasn’t a one-off. Lottie would want to keep seeing Henry. Even as he’d pounded the pavements, his feverish brain had refused to shut up. It had imagined the phone call he was going to get from her today, cancelling their night out, because why would she want to see him, when the love of her life was back in the country? It wouldn’t be long before she’d come to the shop to tell him in person it was over…

  ‘OMG Matt, are you okay? You look awful.’ Amy gawked at him from the kitchen doorway.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘No, seriously, what’s wrong? Have you and Lottie had a fight?’

  He clenched his jaw, took his time carefully closing the dishwasher. This was why he liked to keep his private life exactly that, private. It stopped questions, however well meaning, that he didn’t know how to answer. ‘No, we’ve not had a fight.’ He couldn’t imagine ever fighting with her. Arguing, disagreeing, sure, but she wasn’t volatile or high maintenance like Patricia had been. Because he was an expert at deflecting, he asked a question of his own. ‘How are you and Shaun? Have you spoken to him?’

  She avoided his eyes and went to sit on one of the bar stools. ‘Yes. He phoned me last night, like you said he would.’

  ‘And?’ he pressed, no longer just asking to take the heat off himself.

  ‘He got all embarrassed. Eventually he admitted he’d had to leave his flat because he couldn’t pay the rent, so he’d spent the weekend packing up his stuff.’ Finally she met his gaze. ‘That’s why he couldn’t ask me back. He’s kipping on a mate’s floor.’

  The big brother in him wanted to tell her it was time to stop seeing him. Let Shaun sort himself out, prove he was a man to be trusted. But Amy had come out of her shell since she’d met him, and he knew she’d developed real feelings for the guy. ‘Did he say why he couldn’t pay his rent? Is his plumbing business not doing well?’

  ‘Something about a bad loan he took out to get the business going, that he wanted to pay off. He kept saying not to worry, it was temporary. He’d find somewhere else.’

  He made a mental note to phone Shaun when he had a few spare minutes. ‘How do you feel now you know all this?’

  Her back straightened, her eyes flashed. ‘I’m not going to dump him just ’cos he’s got no money, if that’s what you mean.’

  He hung his head, a little ashamed, as it was exactly what he’d meant. ‘Sorry. Of course you’re not. I just…’ Say the words. He wondered if this sort of conversation would ever come easily to him. ‘I’ve not been a good big brother, missed too many years, but I want to be a better one for you now.’

  She seemed to consider his words, her expression cautious. ‘Then will you not tell Dad? Please. He’ll be like you and assume Shaun’s not good enough for me, or some crap like that, and it’s not true. He’s kind and funny and I really like him.’

  He walked over and kissed the top
of her head. ‘Deal. I won’t tell Dad, but I will have a chat with Shaun.’ She stiffened and he sighed. ‘I just want to find out if there’s any way I can help.’

  She looked up, and it was only then he realised how like their mum she was. Hazel eyes, straight brown hair, stubborn attitude, soft heart. ‘That’s all? You won’t give him shit?’

  ‘I promise not to give him shit.’ He touched her cheek, love swelling inside him. ‘I’ve done plenty wrong myself, Amy. I’m hardly in a position to throw stones.’

  ‘Okay.’ She pushed herself off the stool. ‘I’d better get to work. Don’t want to piss off the boss.’

  He hesitated, then voiced an idea he’d been turning around in his head. ‘What would you say to having a stake in the shop? That way you wouldn’t just manage the café, you’d effectively own it?’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘It’s purely selfish on my part. I like working with my sister.’ He smiled, feeling that tug of emotion again. ‘I’d like to encourage her to stick around.’

  Amy shocked him by throwing her arms around his waist. ‘I like working with you, too. Plus the café is way better than I thought it would be. I get to meet people, be my own boss, and when it’s quiet I can look out at the sea.’ Her head moved against his chest. ‘God, I was such a bitch when we first moved down, but now I get why you brought us here.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘Shit, now I have to sort out my face.’

  ‘You look beautiful, Amy.’ He brushed the tears from her eyes. ‘You’re so like Mum.’

  He watched the emotion pass across her face before she gave him a playful shove. ‘Stop it, go to work before you make me cry even more.’

  The first hour in the shop was quiet and he used the time to phone Shaun, arranging for the guy to meet him at the house at six. He figured it would still give him enough time to get to Lottie’s for seven.

 

‹ Prev