Summer on Seashell Island: Escape to an island this summer for the perfect heartwarming romance in 2020 (Riley Wolfe 1)

by Sophie Pembroke

  Until, sitting in the quiet back room of the Anchor pub, talking in whispers, she’d reached recent events, and told Rory the whole sordid story of her relationship with Callum, the pregnancy, and that horrible last morning in London.

  ‘No wonder you came running home,’ Rory said, giving a low whistle. ‘That is one hell of a special kind of London bastard.’

  Juliet’s answering chuckle came out sort of soggy. Was she still crying? She hadn’t even noticed.

  ‘You say that like nobody on Seashell Island has ever cheated on their wives, or got pregnant by accident, or screwed up in some other terrible way. And I know for a fact that isn’t true.’ She could recount half a dozen such scandals from her teenage years. She’d always liked to keep track of people who were in more trouble than her.

  ‘Maybe not. But none of them did it to you.’

  She couldn’t help but meet his gaze at that, and remember how they’d been as a couple. Their first times together – fumbling and awkward but funny and sweet. And they’d got a lot better, very quickly, learning together.

  He’d been so careful with her, always. She wished now that she’d been as careful with his heart.

  ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘You never would.’

  He pulled away at her words – not obviously, but his gaze slid from hers, and suddenly, somehow, there was a few more inches between them on the bench seat they shared. Enough that she got the message.

  ‘So. What are you going to do now?’ Rory asked. ‘I mean, you’ve decided to keep the baby, yes?’

  Picking up her glass of lime and soda, Juliet nodded. ‘That part was weirdly easy. I mean . . . I know it’s crazy, and I know it’ll be hard, but I never questioned that I’d have the baby. I don’t know why.’

  ‘I do,’ Rory replied, not looking directly at her. ‘It’s because you’ll be a brilliant mum and you should definitely have the chance to do that, however it happens.’

  She looked up at him in surprise. ‘You are the only person in the world who would say that.’

  ‘I doubt it. But either way, it’s true.’ He gave her a lopsided smile and she knew, without question, that this was why she’d started her confessions with Rory. He’d always had more faith in her than anyone else. ‘You love fiercely, Juliet, and you have ambition. I know you’ll love and want and do the best for your child.’

  An unfamiliar warmth began to fill her, from her heart outwards. It felt like . . . confidence.

  She could do this. She could do this alone, and she could do this on her own terms.

  But it would be a hell of a lot easier with her friends and family behind her.

  ‘I want to do this right,’ she whispered. ‘I want to do this one thing in my life perfectly.’

  Rory laughed. ‘I don’t think anyone does parenting perfectly. I know my dad didn’t – and my mum was a perfect example of what not to do.’

  ‘My parents were pretty perfect, even when I was a nightmare child for them.’

  Rory’s expression was unreadable. ‘I’d ask Miranda if she agrees with that assessment, when you tell her about the baby.’

  Juliet’s head dropped to the table with a painful thunk. ‘Oh God. I really have to tell Miranda. She’s going to be so disappointed in me.’

  ‘Juliet, you’re twenty-eight. You’re allowed to live your own life without worrying about disappointing people. You’re doing something brilliant here – and I think your sister loves you enough to support you in it. In fact, I think the whole island will. You’re one of our own, even if you’ve been away.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘I really do.’ Rory’s words were genuine, but Juliet still felt the distance between them in a way she hadn’t before. She was sure there were still a lot of issues they needed to work through between them if they wanted to recover their friendship. But she hoped today had gone a way to doing that – rather than putting another, more permanent issue between them in the form of the baby growing inside her.

  ‘You look exhausted,’ Rory told her.

  ‘Long day,’ she admitted.

  Juliet picked up her phone to check the time, and spotted a number of missed notifications. Frowning, she swiped open the app to read them – then pulled a face.

  ‘Something’s going on at home.’ She held up the phone so Rory could read Leo’s text. ‘Goodness knows what a llama party is, but I’d better get back there and find out.’

  ‘And get some rest.’ Rory was already standing. ‘I’ll take you. Come on, the van is round the corner at the restaurant.’

  They walked along the high street back towards the Flying Fish, only to see Miranda and Owain appearing out of the restaurant. Together.

  Juliet raised her eyebrows as she realised her big sister was wearing actual make-up, not to mention her best frock. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, even her contact lenses.

  This was a date. Juliet grinned. Good for Miranda.

  ‘Did you get Leo’s message?’ Miranda asked.

  ‘Just now. I . . .’ she glanced up at Rory. ‘We were busy talking.’

  ‘Us too.’ Miranda didn’t look back at Owain, but her cheeks turned a slight pink that Juliet was sure had nothing to do with the sea breeze. ‘Is he honestly throwing a party for Lucy?’

  Juliet shrugged. ‘Apparently. I was just heading back to find out.’ And because she was about to fall asleep standing up, otherwise.

  ‘Come on,’ Rory said. ‘I’ll take us all in the van – as long as you and Owain don’t mind the bench seats in the back.’

  They reached the Lighthouse long after daylight had faded. When had the summer days grown so short? Or had she and Rory spent far longer hashing out the mess that was her life than she’d realised?

  They heard the music, and the laughter, the moment Rory cut the engine and they all tumbled out of the van.

  Miranda and Juliet exchanged looks, then hurried out to the terrace – where they found Lucy the Llama glaring at them from under a party hat.

  ‘How did he even get her to wear that thing?’ Juliet asked, baffled.

  Christabel crossed the terrace from where she’d been sitting with Suzi and Harriet, a beer in her hand. ‘Perseverance. We’re having a Welcome to the Lighthouse party for Lucy,’ she explained. ‘Leo had some making up to do with the girls, so he went all out.’

  ‘So I can see.’ Juliet took in the strings of lights, the firepit, and the decorations. No way Leo had come up with this all on his own – it had to have been Christabel’s idea.

  ‘And where is our darling brother?’ Miranda asked.

  ‘Putting the girls to bed,’ Christabel replied. ‘Abby half fell asleep while she was dancing with him. It was very cute.’

  Miranda and Juliet shared a look. ‘Leo was dancing?’

  ‘Apparently he only dances with his daughters,’ Christabel explained, but the grin on her face told Juliet she understood what a step forward this was for him. ‘Come on, we’ve got beer over here. Come join us.’

  While the others went to get a drink, Juliet left them to it and went to welcome Lucy personally instead.

  ‘Why, exactly, do you guys now own a llama?’ Rory asked, following her. ‘I mean, I’m not even going to ask why it gets its own party—’

  ‘She,’ Juliet corrected him, stroking Lucy’s head. ‘Lucy is a girl llama. And she chose us. She likes us better than the farm.’

  ‘Mia and I looked it up earlier,’ Miranda called from the swing. ‘Llamas are herd animals. They’re used to being around others. I think she got lonely on the farm.’

  ‘Well, she’ll certainly never be lonely here.’ Juliet looked around at the party – Miranda and Christabel handing out drinks, Owain and the rest of his band tuning their instruments for another impromptu concert, Leo upstairs with his girls . . . and Rory.

  Rory, who’d li
stened to the whole saga of screw-ups that made up her life since she’d left him and hadn’t flinched. Instead, he’d offered to help.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asked now.

  ‘I think I need to go to bed too,’ she admitted, reluctantly.

  Rory laughed, a low, warm chuckle that she felt somewhere deep in her belly. Or maybe that was the baby. Nine weeks was too early for that, though, according to her new favourite app. So probably it was just Rory.

  ‘Come on. I’ll see you to your room.’ He was standing so close to her now. Closer than he’d been in the pub. And for a second, as they stood there, watching the llama, only a sliver of night between their bodies, she wondered what would happen if she stretched up and kissed him. Just once. Just to see if it was as perfect as she remembered.

  But she didn’t. Because she’d be leaving Seashell Island again, and his life was here. Because she’d already broken his heart once, and she knew he hadn’t forgiven her for that. Because she had a new life growing inside her, and couldn’t afford to make mistakes any more.

  It wasn’t just her life she was screwing up now.

  So instead, Juliet let herself be led towards the Lighthouse back door, up the stairs to her attic room. And then she smiled, and said thank you, and good night, and shut the door on Rory before she was too tempted to do anything else.

  MIRANDA

  The party was dying down. Even Lucy had wandered off to snooze in the little shelter they’d made for her, with some help from Max and a slightly tearful Dafydd. Miranda leant back in the swing seat and watched as Suzi and the twins packed up their instruments, low conversation passing between them and Owain as they said their goodnights. Rory had already led Juliet back towards the house, and hopefully bed. Juliet had clearly been working flat out keeping them all fed and happy, and she looked exhausted.

  What was going on between Juliet and her ex-boyfriend was another question, but one Miranda didn’t intend to try and answer tonight.

  She had another, more urgent, query she wanted answering.

  She got the first part of her answer a few moments later, when Owain came and settled beside her on the swing, even as the others disappeared inside. He had a beer bottle in his hand, and lifted it up to his mouth to drain it before he spoke.

  ‘So.’

  ‘So,’ she echoed.

  He turned his head where it rested against the back of the swing, until he was looking right at her, suddenly incredibly close. Even in the weak light from Leo’s strings of bulbs, she could read a lot in his eyes.

  She just hoped she wasn’t writing what she wanted to see there.

  ‘This planning meeting of ours didn’t end exactly how I’d hoped,’ Owain said.

  ‘Oh? How were you hoping it would end?’ Because she knew what she’d been hoping for. Us, naked in my bed.

  ‘With you admitting it was a date.’

  Miranda’s stomach tightened, her breath catching at his words. ‘There were certain date-like qualities to it, I suppose.’

  A warm smile spread across his lips. ‘Nice restaurant, good wine, great company. Romantic lighting.’ He glanced up at the bulbs in the tree.

  ‘Can’t beat some string lights from old Myrddin’s hardware store,’ she agreed. ‘So, if it had been a date . . . what do you think would have happened after dinner? Once we’d dealt with all the locals who needed to urgently discuss festival matters or my love life with me?’

  Owain slouched lower onto the swing seat, his hips almost at the edge as he stretched his long legs out in front of him. One arm snaked around her shoulder, and Miranda sank into him, resting her head comfortably against his chest as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  ‘I think I’d have taken you for a walk along the shoreline. You’d have kicked off those shoes and let the waves flow over your feet. And we’d have talked some more, of course – not about the festival, but about you and about me and our lives. What matters to us. Who we really are. The sort of conversation you can only have in the dark.’

  ‘Sounds kind of serious,’ Miranda said. Possibly, she was incredibly shallow for jumping straight to the naked-in-bed part of the evening. But in her defence, he was impossibly good-looking, and he wouldn’t be here very long. She had to take her chances where she could.

  ‘Yeah. But then we’d have stripped off all our clothes and gone skinny-dipping,’ Owain finished, with a wicked grin she could feel against the top of her head as he kissed it. ‘Then rushed back home together and fallen into bed.’

  ‘For rebound sex,’ Miranda clarified, not wanting to admit how her whole body had tightened at his words. God, she wanted this man. Naked in the water, just like he’d described.

  ‘If that’s what you wanted,’ Owain replied.

  She pulled back, just enough to look him in the eye, for him to know she meant every word she said. ‘I want it all. The swimming and everything that comes after.’

  He held her gaze for a long moment before nodding, just once.

  ‘Let’s go then.’

  The water was freezing, even in August.

  She’d led him down to Gull Bay, because it was closest to the Lighthouse, and hardly anyone went there in the daytime, let alone at night. Plus, she knew it like the back of her hand, pale in the moonlight. She felt safe there.

  And she felt safe with Owain, even if she’d only known him for a few weeks. Which was weird, but something to worry about another, less interesting time.

  They’d skipped the deep-and-meaningful conversation part, but Owain didn’t seem to mind. Maybe they’d get to it later, maybe they wouldn’t, but Miranda knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on any of it right now anyway. Not when she was imagining him naked and inside her with every breath she took.

  Stripping off their clothes, they left them behind the pile of rocks that marked where the staircase up the cliff started. The moonlight gave her courage, Miranda decided, as she pulled her dress over her head. The darkness blurred boundaries, hid edges and imperfections, and the pale white light was more flattering than any Instagram filter.

  More than that, it seemed to give her power. Strength.

  She paused, before unhooking her bra, and realised she wanted to know what she looked like in this place, in this light. Wanted to know who this new Miranda was, who could even agree to doing such a thing. Needed to know how far she could swim from the shore – inching away from her island, wave by wave.

  Juliet would be so proud.

  Not that she’d ever actually tell her sister, of course.

  ‘God, you’re gorgeous.’ She’d looked up to see Owain, still half dressed, staring at her.

  She’d smiled back with a recklessness she didn’t even recognise in herself. ‘Your turn.’

  He’d dropped his pants and, seconds later, they’d both been running naked into the freezing water.

  ‘In my imagination, this was warmer,’ Owain gasped, as they came up for air.

  ‘Mine too,’ she admitted. ‘Although at least this way we get to keep each other warm.’

  ‘Works for me.’

  The water was shallow enough that they could stand, even a decent way out from the beach. She looked back at the shore, seemingly slipping further away with each wave that crashed against her bare skin. And for the first time, she wondered if maybe she could go further. Keep walking into the water and find out what happened . . .

  Owain wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, and Miranda’s feet left the sand of the ocean floor as she moved with him. The water lapped against them, pushing them closer, until she could feel every inch of his body against hers. Every impressive-even-in-the-freezing-water inch.

  She shivered, but it wasn’t because of the cold this time. It was pure desire, coursing through her naked body.

  Owain seemed to take the hint, as he brought his m
outh down to hers at last, his hands sliding over her wet skin as he kissed her deep and desperately, and it was everything she hadn’t known she needed until this moment.

  He was like the water itself, an adventure away from her everyday life, baby steps away from the security and familiarity she’d prized and prioritised for so long. Owain wasn’t staying on Seashell Island past the end of the summer. He wasn’t offering her anything more than a few weeks of fun, and she wasn’t asking for more. She had no idea what would happen next . . . but she was ready to take another step into these unknown waters and find out.

  ‘Bed?’ he murmured against her lips.

  ‘Definitely,’ she replied, between kisses.

  They parted just long enough to swim back to shore, grabbing their clothes and throwing them on over their wet bodies. Then Owain took her hand and they both raced up the narrow staircase, trying not to slip in their haste.

  ‘The cottage,’ Miranda panted as they reached the top. ‘It’s closer.’

  More private, too, which helped. She wanted to hold on to this wild and free Miranda she’d found tonight, and somehow she knew that being back in the Lighthouse, with her siblings in the neighbouring rooms, wouldn’t make that possible.

  The cottage, secret in the woods, was perfect.

  Owain nodded and obediently changed course, heading for the edge of the Lighthouse property, never letting go of her hand for a moment. Miranda felt like moonlight and magic combined, like she might explode if she couldn’t kiss him again soon. Like she could fly, above Seashell Island and to places she’d never dreamt of.

  The cottage door fell open for them as Owain pressed her into the wood and kissed her hard. Stumbling backwards, Miranda laughed, and now it was her leading him, back towards the bedroom and that wide, soft bed she’d chosen all those years before when she’d first moved out. And he followed, smiling and wanting, his touch everywhere even as they moved. And Miranda thought this was the happiest, the freest, and the most herself she’d felt since before she could even remember.