by Fiona Harper
When he’d heard Zoe mention her name…
Sara.
For more than a year that one word had prompted a spike of adrenalin that had caused both his heart to race and his stomach to churn. But Damien had a feeling that if he took his pulse right now it would be frighteningly normal. And the only nausea he felt was at hurting Zoe.
He couldn’t lie to her. He hadn’t ever given her anything less than the truth and he wasn’t going to stop now. And he couldn’t pretend he’d hadn’t felt what he’d felt. Once.
A long breath escaped his lips.
His prayers had been answered. The curse had been lifted. He didn’t feel that way about Sara any more. It was such a relief. He’d hoped he’d reached that place, but his reaction to Zoe’s phone call was hard evidence.
He needed to tell Zoe, to explain, make her understand. After all, he hadn’t done anything wrong, even though it had felt that way sometimes.
Seconds ticked by. He kept staring at the hatch. Eventually he climbed back on board and went to look for her.
She was sitting on the bottom step, fingertips thrusting through her red curls as she buried her face in her hands. He jumped down beside her, missing most of the steps, and landed hard on the cabin floor. Then he crouched down beside her and looked into her eyes.
She sat up straight, folded her hands in her lap and stared back at him. She was angry. He understood that too.
He reached out to touch her hand and she flinched away. A flicker of something—disgust, maybe—passed across her expression and she looked away to the far end of the cabin.
‘I don’t think dinner tonight is such a good idea after all,’ she said, her voice low and wavering. When she finished talking she risked a glance in his direction to gauge his reaction.
‘Zoe, everything’s changed—’
She shook her head, silencing him. ‘I can’t, Damien. Not now.’ She looked away. ‘And this never was supposed to be anything more than a holiday thing. We should stick to the plan and not make a drama out of something so insignificant.’
Damien thought he must be hearing things. Drama When Not Required was Zoe’s forte. But the stare she gave him was blank, empty, and he knew better than to argue at that moment.
‘Thank you for sorting out my case for me,’ she said, and then she took herself and her brightly coloured handbag up on deck and off the boat.
Damien stayed where he was. He knew it was no good trying to make people stay when they got that look in their eyes. Maybe she was right. He hadn’t really been thinking straight this last week. Hadn’t he thought all along that they weren’t the best match? Perhaps it was better to let her go now rather than discover that he couldn’t be happy with her later. Better stop now, before they both got in too deep. He’d seen what that kind of rejection had done to his mother.
No.
The word entered his head and lodged there, refused to budge.
Okay, he hadn’t planned on being with someone like Zoe, but he wasn’t ready to give up hope yet. They’d had something. Exactly what, he wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t ready to give up without finding out. There was one last thing he needed to know before he let her go back to London alone.
She was almost on top of the ramp that linked the pontoon to dry land when he caught up with her.
‘Zoe!’ he yelled from the bottom of the slope. She turned to look at him, anger in the set of her jaw, hope in her eyes. He walked towards her, gathering both his breath and his thoughts.
‘Who was the friend—the bridesmaid—the one your fiancé fell in love with?’
His heart pounded the moment the words left his lips because he feared he already knew the answer.
Zoe’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Sara,’ she said. ‘It was Sara.’
And then she turned and walked away, her suitcase whining in pain as she dragged it behind her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
FIVE hours later Zoe was knocking on a faceless hotel door with the sound of low-flying planes ringing in her ears. Sara opened the door. Her eyes were pink and her hair was only about one quarter in her ponytail. The rest was either falling lank or sticking up at odd angles, as if she’d been flopped on the bed sobbing for hours.
Zoe pulled Sara into a hug then guided her back into the room, an arm round her shoulders. Sara’s knees buckled and she landed on the end of the bed, making it shudder. Since Zoe wanted to maintain contact, she had no choice but to go with her.
‘Oh, Zo! It’s such a mess!’
‘What happened?’
Sara shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe the images running through it. ‘I don’t know… It seems like it happened to someone else. It started with an argument—a really stupid one about not tying a fender on properly—but then it just got way out of control.’
‘But you’re going to be okay, right? You and Luke?’
Sara just pressed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets and juddered. Zoe laid her cheek on her friend’s shoulder and rubbed her back until the silent tears slowed.
Sara’s voice was muffled through her hands. ‘You should have heard the things we said to each other! And then I…I just…snapped, I suppose. I told him if he really felt that way he’d have been better off not marrying me and then I went to the nearest telephone and booked a flight home.’ Another shudder racked her body, and she looked up at Zoe with swollen eyes and sticky lashes.
‘That was a bit dramatic.’
Sara’s shoulders slumped further. ‘I know! I’ve never done anything remotely like it before. It was just…just…’ She suddenly sat up straighter and looked Zoe in the eye. ‘What if he won’t forgive me? I’ve been so horrible! How can I ever repair this?’
Zoe hugged Sara, a slight smile on her lips. ‘Of course he’ll forgive you. He loves you, remember? And you’ve both been under such stress getting this wedding together. I wouldn’t be surprised if honeymoons weren’t a bit like Christmas with the family,’ she added.
Sara looked up at her, confused.
Of course she wouldn’t know. The rest of her family were all as lovely as she was.
‘You know… Everyone wants it to be perfect, but all those tensions that have been building all year have a habit of coming to the surface just when you don’t want them to.’
That was how it was in Zoe’s house, anyway. Her grandmother said they hadn’t had a proper Christmas if at least one bit of crockery wasn’t smashed and the front door didn’t slam every half hour with the latest dramatic exit.
Sara dragged her hand across her eyes, then got up to retrieve a tissue from the box on the rather functional dressing table. ‘Maybe… I did so want our honeymoon to be perfect.’
Zoe made a wry face. ‘That’s a lot of pressure to put on one man and a boat.’
Sara sighed and sat down on the top end of the bed, pulling her legs up and propping herself against the headboard. ‘In the run-up to getting married you’re supposed to be the picture of blissful happiness, aren’t you? So all the little things that are irritating you, well, you stuff them away, hide them. At least I did.’ She blew out a long breath. ‘I suppose there’s a lot of pressure involved in being a bride, too.’
There was the way Sara had gone about it, Zoe thought. She scooted up the mattress to join Sara at the top end. ‘It got to you, huh? You should have said something. I’d have understood. Been there myself, after all.’
‘I didn’t want to remind you.’ Sara rolled her head sideways on the headboard to look at her. ‘But more than that, I suppose I thought if I said it out loud at all that I’d ruin everything. I know what people think about me, what they say about me, they expect a certain standard. I felt my wedding had to live up to that.’
‘Nobody’s perfect,’ Zoe said. And didn’t she know that more than most? But it was refreshing to know that Sara felt the same pressure to perform, that Zoe wasn’t the only one of the pair who could mess up badly. That realisation changed something. Suddenly Zoe felt older, stronge
r. More free.
‘You need to tell Luke all of this,’ she said to her friend. ‘He’s probably feeling the same way.’
‘You think?’
Zoe nodded and let out a low chuckle. ‘I think what you should have done is have a massive row on day three, get it all out of your system, and then have mind-blowing make-up sex.’
Sara pulled a glum face. ‘But I got on a plane and came home! How are we going to get over that?’
Zoe reached over and patted Sara’s leg. ‘Listen, I’m the queen of impulsive bad choices and if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that nothing is so awful that it can’t be sorted out somehow. It just takes a bit of guts, a bit of humility—and a lot of grovelling.’
Sara let out a watery laugh. ‘Thanks, Zo. You always cheer me up, stop me taking myself too seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you. And I’m so sorry I messed up the end of your holiday too.’ She gave Zoe a sideways look. The sort of look that begged information. ‘How was it going?’ she asked innocently.
Ah, yes. In all the drama, Zoe had forgotten about that. Time to get some answers while Sara was calmer.
‘Why on earth did you set Damien and me up like that?’
Sara sighed. ‘We didn’t. At least not on purpose.’
Zoe crossed her arms. ‘Convince me.’
‘Luke and I had chatted about giving someone else the use of the boat, and I instantly assumed he meant Damien—after all, he borrows Weaver a couple of times a year anyway. So, when I had a chance, I talked to Damien. I had no idea Luke had mentioned it to you until the next day.’
‘And when you realised you instantly rang me to let me know about the mix up?’ Zoe said sarcastically.
‘Luke told me about what he saw in the garden, you know…’ Sara’s voice was low and she nudged Zoe’s leg with her foot.
Zoe stared straight ahead and kept her voice light and unconcerned. ‘Oh, he did, did he?’
‘So, when we realised we’d, well, double-booked the pair of you, we thought maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.’
In the following silence she knew Sara was waiting for her to spill her guts, as they always did about every romantic encounter, but Zoe wasn’t ready to talk about Damien. Not by a long shot. And especially not with Sara.
She should have guessed, shouldn’t she? Damien had plans, he always wanted the best, everything to be perfect. Why hadn’t she realised that would apply to his romantic life as well as things like sailing and business? As soon as she looked at it that way, Sara became the natural choice.
And Zoe was so obviously not.
‘He isn’t for me,’ she said eventually.
Not for you, either, she silently added. But he’s going to have to work that one out on his own.
‘Rubbish!’ Sara replied, obviously distracting herself from the mess of her own life by meddling with Zoe’s. ‘Damien’s got a great job, he’s successful, he’s a fantastic friend to Luke—the sort of guy who’d never let you down—and he’s…well, he’s seriously hot.’ She blushed a little as she said this, and Zoe felt slightly nauseous. ‘He’s practically perfect. What’s not to like? Especially if he likes you too?’
‘Nobody’s perfect,’ Zoe said again.
And she knew that for sure now, had discovered that elusive kryptonite that’d bring so-called Mr Perfect to his knees. She felt as if he’d lied to her, as if he’d betrayed all three of them somehow, even though she knew instinctively that he’d have never acted on whatever he felt.
Oh, why couldn’t the mystery in his past, the one woman who hadn’t wanted him back, been a nameless, faceless thing? Why did it have to be her best friend?
She swung her legs off the bed, fetched Sara’s handbag from the desk and handed it to her. ‘You need to phone your husband.’
Sara looked at her handbag as if it were about to swallow her whole. ‘I’m scared,’ she said in a small voice.
‘I know.’ Zoe sat down beside her on the edge of the bed. ‘But I’m here with you.’ She dropped the bag in her friend’s lap. ‘And you love each other. This is just the first of many bumps in the road of a long and happy marriage.’
Sara nodded. Just once. ‘When did you become so wise?’ she asked quietly, and then she reached into her handbag and pulled out her phone.
* * *
He’d thought she’d calm down and that he’d be able to go and see her, to explain, after a few days. Just showed how flawed that plan had been. In the month since they’d returned from Devon, Zoe hadn’t answered one of his calls. He’d got her email address from Luke but she wouldn’t answer any of those either. It was only the fact that he knew he’d have an opportunity to see her tonight that had stopped him going to her flat and banging down her front door.
Not a good idea. He knew that Zoe’s response to conflict was to throw more petrol on the fire. It seemed Damien Stone was finally all out of good plans.
He stood at Luke and Sara’s front door and stared at the brass knocker. He wasn’t sure this was a brilliant idea, either. A thank you dinner for the best man and maid of honour. It could just turn out to be Round Two.
Luke and Sara had patched things up, but their honeymoon disaster had given them both quite a scare. When Luke had phoned him, telling him the full details of what had happened, he’d hardly been able to believe it. Not Sara. Sara didn’t do that kind of thing.
Only she obviously did. Because she had.
And any remaining pieces of the idol Damien had created in her image had crumbled. She was still his friend, and she was still lovely, but he no longer elevated her to goddess status. He really had let go. Of Sara. Of even the idea of Sara. None of it had been real, anyway.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure he could make Zoe see it that way.
He had a suspicion the newlyweds, now they were happily reunited, were trying to do a bit of matchmaking. He didn’t know if Zoe had confided in Sara, but he hadn’t said anything to Luke about what had gone on between them. His best friend had been putting his fledgling marriage back together—the last thing he’d needed was to get embroiled in someone else’s romantic problems.
He shifted the bunch of flowers he’d brought for the hostess into the same hand that was gripping a bottle of wine and knocked on the door. It was opened moments later by a smiling Sara, wearing a floral apron, her hair caught up in a messy ponytail at the back of her head. She kissed his cheek, relieved him of flowers and wine, and led him through the house and into the kitchen.
‘Luke’s barbecuing,’ she said, smiling as she put the wine down on the counter. ‘Go and do man-stuff out there. You know, keep him company while he grunts at the fire.’ She nodded in the direction of the French windows leading into the courtyard garden.
So Zoe wasn’t here yet, then. Damien wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved he had more time to prepare himself. His heart began to thud.
He’d missed her. Really missed her. And it was more than just being sorry about the way things had ended. Somehow his life seemed…empty. It was as if the sunshine had stayed in Devon, even though London had delivered the cloudless skies of an Indian summer well into September.
He stepped into the garden and greeted his friend with a hug. For that he was rewarded with a bottle of beer. It was only when he couldn’t find a bottle opener on the garden table that he looked up and saw her, standing by the ivy-covered wall, a glass of white wine gripped between even whiter fingers.
Once again he had the sensation of being hit by a truck. But this time it didn’t stop there: it ran him over, then backed up and made mincemeat of him.
Zoe was wearing that sundress she’d had on the night she’d got sunburned—a favourite of his ever since. Her untidy curls had been tamed into a twist at the back of her head, but escapee tendrils framed her face and curled at her nape. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her look more beautiful.
‘Hi,’ he croaked, and he didn’t even notice when Sara
gently prise
d his beer bottle from his hand, took the cap off and handed it back to him.
Zoe looked at him, head tilted down a little, with her eyes wide and her mouth thin. ‘Hi.’ The word shot from her mouth like a bullet.
Direct hit, Damien thought. Just hearing her voice, as cold and wary as it was, made his chest contract.
Dinner was painful. Uncomfortable. At least it was for the two unmarried guests. Luke and Sara were definitely experiencing a second wind of newly wedded bliss. Unfortunately, their loved-up state made them impervious to the awkwardness of their guests, especially when the hosts dropped hints about holiday romances and fountains in hotel gardens.
Zoe’s biting wit was at its finest, and more than once he found himself as her bullseye. He took it. He’d rather see her fighting than crumbling, and in the silences in between the barbs he saw the look of raw hurt in her eyes.
Sara swallowed a mouthful of wine as they finished up their main course. ‘Tell Damien about your expansion plans,’ she said to Zoe.
Zoe fidgeted in her seat. She really didn’t want to talk about this. Not with Damien here, because he’d been the one to start her thinking on this track, to make her realise that her business was never going to grow unless she stopped daydreaming and did something about it.
‘I’m leasing one of the little shops on the fringes of Greenwich market,’ she said. ‘Not quite a rival to Tiffany’s yet, but it’s a start.’
‘She’s got a bank loan and everything, haven’t you, Zoe?’ Sara added excitedly.
Zoe rolled her eyes at her friend and nodded. When she looked back over the table at Damien, the look of pride in his eyes and the soft smile on his lips almost undid all her resolution to remain aloof and distant.
‘I’m glad,’ was all he said.
It was enough. Zoe didn’t want to feel all warm and fuzzy at his words. She didn’t want to feel anything about him at all, thank you very much.
Sara went on to talk about how much she loved Zoe’s dinky new premises, how much fun they were going to have repainting the display cases of what had been an old-fashioned gentlemen’s haberdashery store. Zoe didn’t listen. She was watching Damien, just like she’d been watching him all evening, waiting for something—a flash in his eyes, a facial tic—when he looked at Sara that would confirm all her worst fears.