by Heidi Rice
Dee leant in and whispered in Ellie’s ear. ‘I’ll hold the fort, go and find Art. He’ll want to know about your decision.’
Art.
Ellie swung round to find Rob and Mike standing empty-handed.
‘You’re going to stay?’ Mike said. ‘Tess will be overjoyed.’
‘Your ex isn’t as much of a twat as I thought,’ said Rob at the same time.
‘Hopefully, yes,’ she said to Mike. ‘He’s not my ex yet, but he soon will be.’ She spotted Art through the crowd making his way towards the orchard, away from the wedding congregation that was milling around being offered canapés and champagne.
She headed after him only to get waylaid en route by Tess and Annie.
‘What happened with Mr Skank?’ Annie said.
Ellie turned to watch Dee leading Dan towards the farmhouse. ‘He’s not a skank, he’s just woefully immature.’ But maybe that was finally starting to change.
‘Jacob said to tell you Maddy’s not ready yet anyway, you’ve got at least another–’ Tess checked her watch ‘–twenty minutes before the bride is going to make her grand entrance.’
‘I need to speak to Art.’ And, unlike last time, she wasn’t going to let him stop her. One of them had to break cover, and it looked like that someone was going to be her.
Because the first thing she planned to ask him was, what the hell had he been thinking socking Dan in the jaw?
‘Go easy on him,’ Annie shouted after her.
Sod that, she was through being easy on him. And on herself.
No more sulking, no more heartache and no more drama. Tomorrow would be a new dawn in her life, she wasn’t running away any more from difficult decisions. Or tough conversations. Or her own emotions. And, as of now, neither was he.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Ellie checked the farmhouse first, in case he’d doubled back on her, then his workshop, but there was no sign of him there either. The sun had begun to dip to the horizon, darkening the orchard and the woods with a ruddy glow.
Where on earth had he gone? And why had he hit Dan? The questions tumbled around her brain as she made her way through the woods towards the millpond. If he wasn’t there, she’d just have to leave it for now, and handle him later.
But she didn’t want to leave it, the urgency making her heart race as she slipped off her heels to walk through the carpet of leaves and moss on the forest floor, the chill oddly comforting.
Then she saw him, standing under the weeping willow by the water’s edge, where they’d made love for the last time.
Had that really been less than a week ago? How could everything have changed so much since then? The sure solid joy in her heart that she had made the right decision to challenge Dan, to see if she and Josh could stay at the farm, was tempered by that bone-deep longing she had steadfastly refused to fully acknowledge until now.
But which had stuck around for nineteen years in some small shadowed recess of her heart, ready to jump out and force her off course again this summer.
Her foot settled on a branch as she approached him and the crack as it broke had Art swinging round to face her. He didn’t say anything as he turned away from her, then knelt on the bank to dip his bruised knuckles into the cool water.
She winced at the thought of his suit being ruined, but that wasn’t why her pulse was battering her collarbone as he swept his hand through the water.
‘Why did you punch Dan?’
‘Because he’s a wanker.’ He brought his hand out of the water, flicked it, scattering drips onto the white shirt.
‘That’s not an answer.’
He shoved his injured hand into the pocket of his suit trousers. ‘What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be tending him? He’s your husband, isn’t he?’
She heard it this time, beneath the bite of sarcasm, the judgemental frown, the definite whisper of jealousy.
‘We’re getting a divorce,’ she said.
‘Then why are you going back to the US with him?’
‘I’m not, Josh and I…’ She paused, not sure how to explain it, as nothing was settled. ‘I’m hoping we’ll be able to stay. If that’s what Josh wants.’
‘You’re staying? For Josh?’
She tilted her head to one side. Was that hope she could see alongside the surprise? Or was it just a trick of the dying light?
‘Yes, I’m hoping to. But not just for Josh. For my mum too, and my friends here, and the shop, obviously. And for Toto,’ she added. ‘I think it will be good for her to have another woman around the place.’
Instead of protesting that she’d overstepped the mark again, he stayed silent, watching her in that intense way that had always unnerved her.
‘But, most of all,’ she continued, ‘I’m staying for myself. Because I like living here. I like being part of something that feels solid and worthwhile.’ Family. She liked being part of a family, that was more than just her and Josh. ‘And I know I can contribute so much to this community. I like that too.’ She stopped talking.
And I like you, a lot, you big dolt.
She wanted to say it, but she couldn’t get the words out. She needed something from him first. Some sign that she wasn’t making a great big tit of herself again. That the reason he’d punched Dan signalled as much as she hoped it did.
He loosened his tie, and undid the top button of his shirt, his gaze dipping to the ground then away across the pond. But he didn’t respond, the muscle in his jaw just below his ear lobe twitching.
‘I hope that’s not going to be a problem for you,’ she added.
‘No, but…’ The low words disappeared into silence.
‘But what?’ She had never been good with pregnant pauses, unlike Art.
His chest expanded, making the starched cotton stretch across his pectoral muscles. The movement accentuated the broad, hard body she was going to have a devil of a time not expiring from want of in the next few weeks and months if he didn’t come through now.
‘But that’s not all I want to know,’ he finally said, once the uncomfortable silence had stretched far enough to be heard on the dark side of the Moon.
She waited. He didn’t elaborate.
‘You’re going to have to ask me what else it is you wanted to know because—’
‘What about us?’ he cut in.
‘What about us?’ The whispered question choked out, bringing with it all the yearning needs and wants and desires that had assaulted her in the last few weeks, hell the last few months, and which he had stopped her from articulating five days ago. ‘I thought you said there was no us?’
Her breath seized to a halt. The anticipation painful.
His head rose. His brows slanting down. ‘I was talking crap. Of course there’s an us. We were banging each other senseless for two whole weeks.’
The vice around her heart released. Enough to allow her to inflate her burning lungs.
Sex. Was he still just talking about sex?
Her lady bits chose that precise moment to start picketing her brain – having formed a committee to advocate for lots more extra-curricular banging.
But her head – and her heart – pushed back.
She couldn’t start sleeping with Art again, without screwing herself. Maybe not today. Maybe not next week. But eventually she would have to demand more. And she still didn’t know if Art wanted more. If he would ever want more.
She knew why it was so hard for him to ask, all the clues had always been there. He’d closed himself off years before he had ever met her. His father had abused him. His mother had deserted him. And Alicia had done the same, losing herself in drugs after giving birth to his child. Art had learned at a young age how to protect himself from hurt and he’d built that wall higher, brick by brick, over a lifetime.
But if she stayed in Wiltshire, she couldn’t continue to batter her head and her heart against that wall – however vocal the lady bits committee – without knowing she had at least some chance of making a den
t in it.
‘We’re not going to be banging each other any more,’ Ellie said. ‘That’s not why I’m staying. And it’s also way too confusing for the kids.’
‘Not that confusing, once we explain everything.’
‘There’s nothing to explain any more.’
‘Why not?’
She blinked, her rising anger going some way to puncturing the hurt still constricting her lungs. ‘Because I’m staying now.’
‘So?’
‘So a no-strings affair was viable when I was just going to be here for the summer. But I’m not prepared to be your convenient bonk buddy for the rest of my life, Art.’
‘Since when were you ever convenient?’ he said.
‘Is that supposed to be funny?’
‘No, you’re about the most inconvenient woman I’ve ever met, if you must know. You were at fourteen and you’re even more so now.’
Bloody hell. She did not have to put up with this.
‘Why?’ she said, playing him at his own game. ‘Why am I inconvenient, Art?’ she asked. Before he could open his mouth, she jumped in to give him the answer. ‘Because I have the unbelievable cheek to actually demand more from you than an orgasm? Because I have an opinion on your relationship with your daughter? On the way we run the project? Because I love how protective and caring you are with my mum? Because it rips me apart to know what happened to you as a child? Because I want to strangle your mother for being such a weak, stupid, selfish bitch? Because the more we make love the more invested I feel? Is that why I’m so inconvenient? Because I want you to feel something for me? To want me? And not just my lady bits?’
He looked stunned. As if he’d just been asked to defuse a nuclear warhead and it had exploded in his face. Exactly as he had all those summers ago.
She let the pain flood through her system. And the humiliation. Because she’d finally told him everything. Ripped it open and laid it at his feet. The way she should have done five days ago. And now he would know. How much she loved him. And he’d probably feel sorry for her. And if there was actually something worse than having to live with Art and not touch, it would be living with Art and him knowing how much it was costing her not to touch.
Still maybe this was a good thing, because if he wasn’t interested, the very last thing he’d want to do now was have sex with her ever again.
*
You coward. You’ve got to tell her. No excuses. Not any more.
Art felt everything inside him coalesce into one raw aching nerve. The same nerve that had been exposed when he’d been seven and lying on a hospital trolley and his mother had whispered in his ear: ‘Don’t tell, Arty.’ And he’d known she didn’t care about him, or didn’t care enough.
The same nerve that had been flayed when Ellie had stood in front of him all those summers ago and told him she loved him. And he’d been too terrified to believe her.
The same nerve that had been flayed when Alicia had looked right through him, her eyes glazed and unfocused and told him to stop being such a bore about their baby.
The same nerve that had been flayed again, even though he thought he’d cut it out of himself years before, five days ago, when Ellie’s husband had stepped out of his fancy hire car.
But this time, instead of covering the nerve any way he could, he knew he had to go with the pain, own it, let it own him. And hope to hell Ellie didn’t decide to slice right through it when he was through.
‘That’s not what makes you inconvenient,’ he murmured.
She threw up a hand, the fingers trembling.
‘Bugger off, Dalton. I’m not having this conversation any more.’ The bright sparkle in her eyes threatened tears that weren’t going to fall. ‘I’m through. I’ve got a wedding to organise.’ She dug into a pocket in her dress with shaking fingers and pulled out a tissue. ‘Maddy’s arriving in ten minutes. I’m going back to be there for people that matter to me. You can come with me or you can piss right off. I don’t care any more.’
He grasped her wrist, and dragged her into his body. Enfolding her into his arms, the tension she refused to let go vibrating through her body.
God, she was so strong. So perfect. And he wanted her so much to be his. All his, that the fear she would reject him was crucifying him. But he had to get over his fear now. And put himself out there, or he had no chance of getting her. And, more importantly, he would never ever deserve her.
‘You’re inconvenient, because you make me feel all that stuff too,’ he whispered into her hair.
Her body stopped struggling against his. At last he got up the courage to loosen his grip. She stared at him, the shock in her deep emerald eyes making his heart melt all over again.
‘What?’ For once she didn’t seem able or willing to talk. Which meant he would have to fill the silence, put the record straight all on his own.
It was exactly what he deserved. The torture of having to try to articulate his feelings at the most important moment of his life, with words instead of moves.
Right now he’d give anything to be able to show her what he meant by bringing her to an earth-shattering orgasm. By putting his mouth on her body and making it sing. But that was the easy way. The easy way he’d taken all along. They’d done this his way. Now he had to do it her way. What a travesty, because he sucked at talking about his feelings.
‘I love that you care about me, that you care about Toto.’ He swallowed, now for the big one. ‘But it terrifies me too. Because if I get you and then I lose you. If you decide I’m not enough…’ Like every other woman he’d ever had in his life, bar Dee ‘…it would destroy me.’
Her hand, still trembling, reached up to cup his cheek, the tears sliding over her lids now and down her face. ‘Is that your backhanded way of telling me you want more than just a sex-for-the-sake-of-it affair?’
‘Only if you admit you want more than a guaranteed orgasm?’ he said, hating the defensiveness, the desperation in his voice.
She chuckled. ‘I’m not going to deny your orgasm guarantee is a powerful incentive to me and my lady bits. But no, Art, that’s not the only thing I want from you.’
He grasped her head, let his hands sink into her hair and frame her face, let his gaze glide over her and take in all of it, the pert nose, the heart-shaped face, the tiny slant of her eyes now bright with tears, the lush lips that he could spend the rest of his life kissing while hanging on every word that came out of them.
‘Good, because it’s not even close to all the things I want from you,’ he murmured.
How weird to think after so many years of being terrified of letting anyone know how he felt, what he might need, it had been so easy to say it to her.
His mouth sealed the deal, covering hers in a soul-searching kiss that tasted hot and cool and everything in-between.
*
Ellie felt as if she were floating above the forest floor, as they raced back through the woods to the wedding together, her hand clasped firmly in Art’s.
They came out of the trees just as Maddy climbed out of the horse-drawn trap decorated with autumn greenery and two glowing carriage lanterns.
The young woman looked like a medieval queen in her vintage antique lace dress, flowers woven into her hair, sequins glittering on the neckline. Jacob stood under the gazebo, his stunned face breaking into a cheeky grin as she made her way down the aisle of folding chairs towards him on her father’s arm. Josh and Toto led the way, scattering handfuls of rose petals over the carpet of reeds and most of the congregation. Melody danced with glee as Toto halted the whole procession to sprinkle petals on her hair.
The humanist minister read out the vows the young couple had written for each other in a calm steady cadence, giving Art time to duck into position, replace Rob as the stand-in best man, and hand the ring to Jacob.
Ellie joined Tess and Annie and Dee in the front row where they had saved her a seat.
‘What have you two been up to?’ Annie whispered, her eyebrows lifting in w
icked amusement. ‘You almost missed the best bit.’
Ellie chuckled, her heart as light and airy as the autumnal breeze as she watched Jacob cradle Maddy’s head and proceed to kiss her senseless, declaring them husband and wife to the backtrack of whoops and cheers.
‘Don’t worry, I’d never let that happen,’ she shouted over the noise, finding Art’s dark gaze and holding it.
Excitement prickled across her skin and pummelled her ribcage in hard heavy thuds.
Especially now I know, the best bit starts now.
EPILOGUE
‘Congratulations, ladies, we survived!’
Ellie popped the cork on the last bottle of elderflower champagne in the whole of Wiltshire to a round of applause from Tess, Dee and Maddy, as Annie shut the sliding glass door on the last of their Christmas Eve customers. Only ten minutes after their official closing time.
The shop looked as if a bomb had hit it, a bomb full of glitter and fairy lights and tinsel. The shelves had been ransacked, and they’d sold out of pretty much everything, including the range of hampers Dee had designed for the Christmas period, packed full of her Christmas delicacies and the array of cheeses from the dairy. The last of the Christmas trees Mike had sourced from a supplier near Gratesbury had gone a week ago – much to Art’s eternal gratitude, because he’d had the onerous task of lining them up and packing them away each day.
Ellie glanced round the shop floor at the few items still remaining, and clocked some of the empty spaces. On the day after Boxing Day she planned to do a thorough inventory to make sure they were properly supplied for next year. Selling out had been wonderful for their egos, but next year she planned to be better prepared with a lot more inventory in the lines that had been particularly popular.
She pushed the thought aside. They could always do better. But they’d had a spectacular first Christmas, their customer numbers steadily swelling every single day in the two-month run-up since Halloween, and right now was pat-on-the-back time.