by Laura Burton
“You get some rest; I’ll sleep in the chair.” His whisper floats into my right ear like a lullaby. I fix my eyelids shut, like iron gates. And I make a moan in response. “Don’t worry about anything.” Ronan strokes my hair away from my face and plants a soft kiss on my head. “I’ve got you.”
As my mind plays out a dream, the last waking thought I have is: It’s true. He has me. All of me.
Chapter Nineteen
The smell of bacon floods my nostrils as I wake up the next morning.
“Hey there, beautiful,” Ronan says brightly. He stands over the stove, holding a frying pan, and the crackling meat is the most comforting sound I’ve ever heard. My stomach growls in response.
“What time is it?” I ask through a yawn and rise to a seating position. Ronan flashes me his pearly whites. His hair is glistening, and he looks sharp, wearing a crisp blue shirt tucked into a pair of dark jeans.
“It’s almost midday,” he says lightly. I gawp at him.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Ronan’s smile turns guilty.
“You looked so tired, I didn’t want to disturb you. And you were talking in your sleep.”
Elsie says I blurt out my darkest secrets in my sleep. I dread to think what I said. Ronan turns back to the stove and I creep out of bed, slipping my feet into my shoes.
“I cleaned up the bathroom for you, no more spiders. I promise,” he says calmly.
“Spiders?” I laugh. “It was like Shelob’s lair in there.” I point at the door and shudder at the memory. There was no ceiling. Just thick white webs stretching from each wall and who knows how many spiders buried inside. Staring at me with a bazillion eyes.
Ronan places a hand over his heart and looks at me sincerely.
“Trust me. You don’t need to be afraid.”
I glance up at the chandelier to see it sparkling in the sunshine. Even the windows are gleaming.
“Have you been cleaning? Ronan, did you not sleep at all?” I don’t wait for an answer but march over to Ronan and hug him round the middle as he focuses on the bacon. I notice a stack of pancakes steaming on a plate to the side. Ronan chuckles and pats my hand.
“Don’t take long getting ready, I’m about to plate up.”
I do as I’m told without question. As if on autopilot, I grab a change of clothes and toiletries from my bag and return to the bathroom.
True to his word, all the webs are gone. The taps are shiny, and the porcelain toilet looks as fresh as it can be. It’s as if I’ve jumped into a movie and Ronan had summoned woodland creatures to come in and clean the place while I slept. I discard my dress and gladly pull on a pair of jeans. They’re warm and fit snug on the swell of my hips. I pull on a cotton shirt and drag a brush through my wiry hair. It looks a little too wild hanging below my shoulders. So, I brush it back and twist it into a messy bun at the top of my head. Sadly, Ruth isn’t here to make me like a Barbie. Ronan will have to accept me as I am. Besides, day-to-day Melissa wears a pair of jeans and a messy bun with just a lick of mascara to stop her looking like a mole rat. If he wants to know the real me. Well, here I am.
As the thought crosses my mind, I launch through the bathroom door as if to present myself to a crowd. Ronan shoots me a strange look from the small table, and his eyes scan me up and down. The corners of his mouth rise and his eyes sparkle again. He doesn’t need to say it. The flush of colour to his face says it all. I smirk as I put yesterday’s clothes back in my bag.
“Breakfast is ready.”
I turn and find Ronan has lit a candle on the table, his arms spread wide and he grins at me like a Cheshire cat.
“I have to say I’m impressed.” I join him at the table as he pours me a drink of orange juice. “Did you go hunting as well?” I ask before picking up my fork and stuffing my mouth with bacon. The juices flood my mouth, and I inadvertently moan.
“Well, this cabin might not be a five-star hotel, but the cupboards and fridge are fully stocked.” He loads his plate with food and without another word, shovels as much of it in his mouth as humanely possible. I try to hide a snigger. He might be good around the house, but his table manners are less than to be desired. Though, his casual attitude makes me feel more at ease. It’s odd that my fake boyfriend is so authentic. Even while the cameras are rolling, it never seems like Ronan is acting. Maybe he’s a method actor, and the mask doesn’t slip until the very end. I should be careful. Playing house like this is easy, and it’s tempting to give in and make our relationship real.
Didn’t I tell him I’ll marry him one day? And despite my fears, he did not go running for the hills.
It’s like I’m living a real-life fairy tale. Which makes me nervous. Life has taught me if something seems too good to be true, it usually is.
“Are you okay?” Ronan looks at me with a handsome smoulder, his bottom lip puckering. I realise I’ve just been inside my head for several minutes and I bet he can read my face like a book.
“Oh I’m great,” I say in an attempt to sound bright, but my tone comes across sarcastic. Ronan cocks a brow at me. I set my fork down and pick up the half empty glass from the table. “I mean,” I say slowly, while swirling the drink. “I can’t remember a time when someone has done all this… for me.” Our eyes lock and Ronan’s brows knit together as his lips roll inwards.
“I’m sorry,” he says frankly. He’s giving me that look. The one people give me when I tell them I grew up surfing from foster home to foster home, until Elsie and I were old enough to move out and get an apartment together.
“So, what shall we do today?” I ask lightly before stuffing a piece of pancake in my mouth. Ronan welcomes the change of subject and dabs his beard with a napkin.
“I thought we could explore the island.”
Though I’ve never considered myself to be the girl to go hiking, the thought of walking outside in the open air is appealing. So far, I’ve been trapped inside an old Scottish castle.
We fall into a comfortable silence as we finish our breakfast––which we might as well call it lunch––and enjoy each other’s company. Ronan’s clear eyes seem to pierce my soul as he gazes on me. I’m undecided whether I like it or not. Can I trust him? That’s the million-dollar question.
After clearing the dishes, I pick up a jacket and follow Ronan out of the front door. A gust of freezing air almost throws me off my feet and Ronan grabs my arm to keep me from falling. We brace against the wind and trudge down the gravel path and look around. The glorious sunshine appears to mock us, as it shines so proudly in the clear sky. It may look like a lovely sunny day. But the cold Scottish air is bone chilling and sweeps across the island from all directions. I cling onto Ronan’s arm and clutch his bicep with all my strength as we walk around. It does not take long to cover the whole island. A tiny patch of trees form a mini woodland round the back, and a small helipad sits at the bottom of the garden. Ronan opens up a shed to the side of the cabin and takes a stack of wood for the fire. The sea licks the edge of the grassy banks, threatening to rise and flood the whole island.
“Hey,” Ronan shouts through the roaring wind. He nods to the land in the distance. “You can see the castle from here.” I squint and tilt my head to the side.
“Cool,” is all I can say with my teeth chattering. Ronan shoots me a look of concern and shifts the bundle of wood in his arms.
“Come on, let’s get back inside,” he says, nodding in the cabin's direction. I never thought I would gladly return, but being stuck outside in these blistering winds is exhausting. I worry if I let go of Ronan, I will fly like a bug in the wind, right into the sea.
We trudge back to the cabin in silence. I open the door and Ronan walks through, dropping the pile of logs to the floor while I slam the door shut and bolt it.
“What do they expect us to do? There’s no TV, no pool, we can’t exactly take a camera out in that weather…” I stop mid-rant at the look of amusement on Ronan’s face. “What’s so funny?”
&
nbsp; He claps his hands as he walks across the room to the bed.
“I don’t think they are expecting us to watch TV,” he says with a brow cocked and collapses on the mattress. He motions for me to join him, and I stiffen. Frozen on the spot.
“What are we supposed to be filming?” I ask, eyeing him warily as he reaches down, and picks up the camera from the floor. He can’t be thinking what I think he’s thinking. Can he?
“There’s a tripod in the bag,” Ronan says as he studies the camera with a furrowed brow. His tongue peeks out of his mouth as he concentrates on the settings. I clear my throat and root through the camera bag to retrieve the tripod and assemble it. Trying not to think about what’s coming next. A shiver takes over my body and Ronan looks up at me with alarm.
“You’re trembling. Are you cold?” he asks, looking at me like I’m a little lamb being sent to the slaughter. He removes his jacket and in one swift motion wraps it around me. A flood of warmth envelopes my whole body and I close my eyes to savour the moment.
“I think I caught a chill,” I say, hugging the jacket. It smells like his cologne. I open my eyes to see Ronan staring at me, his lips slightly apart and eyes dark and brooding. I try to busy myself with the tripod and pretend not to notice. The heat of his gaze and the scent of him flooding my senses breaks me into a sweat.
“We should shoot a few minutes of stuff,” he says carefully, now avoiding eye contact. I remove his jacket and rest it on a bedding box and join him on the bed.
“Okay,” I say in a breathy voice. Ronan fastens the camera to the tripod and settles back on the bed beside me. I stare into the red light beaming in our direction sit without a single thought in my mind.
“We’re having a great time here…” Ronan begins, slinking his arm around my waist and giving my hip a squeeze.
“Oh yes,” I pipe up as if on cue. I glance at Ronan who is giving his casual smirk.
“We’ve been for a long walk around the island. It’s amazing. Nice and quiet.”
He jabs his thumb against my hipbone.
“Yes. This is the quintessential getaway for the Love Trials.”
I’m not even sure I know what I’m saying. I follow Ronan’s lead as we continue to record our diary. While trying not to become distracted by the fact his body heat is radiating onto me so intensely, I feel light-headed.
Ronan turns and presses his lips onto my temple before he raises the remote and turns the camera off.
“You know, they probably want us to kiss… properly,” he says mildly. Properly? The room is still spinning. If he kisses me with any sense of passion, I’ll pass out.
“Do you want to practise first?” Ronan’s voice sounds hopeful.
Yes. I want to practise. Let’s take all afternoon getting to know each other’s mouths and only pause between kisses to gasp for air. No need to ask me twice.
He cups my face with his beautiful hands, his fingertips interlocking in the back of my head.
Is it possible to feel safe and terrified at the same time?
Butterflies tickle my midriff and I inhale sharply as he leans in. I’m falling. No literally falling. As his weight moves over to my side of the mattress, I slip down the mattress and land on my back with Ronan on top, his hands still attached to my head. The weight of his body pressed against mine is too much to bear.
“Get off me,” I grunt, struggling to breathe. Ronan jumps back as if my words electrocuted him and blabbers apologies.
“We can’t do this,” I say. Then I shake my head. “No, I mean I can’t do this.” I climb off the bed and turn to catch Ronan’s look of total devastation. Guilt tugs at my stomach, but I clamp my lip between my teeth to stop me from doing anything impulsive again.
“What’s wrong?” Ronan asks softly. He drags a hand through his hair and I gaze at it longingly. I know if I wanted to, I could reach out and run my fingers through it. Physically, I am drawn to him. But the stubborn part of me holds me back. Stop playing with fire, Melissa.
“I can’t make out with you like it means nothing,” I finally explain. It’s not who I am. I have never even played spin-the-bottle. Kisses should mean something.
Ronan scratches the back of his neck and shakes his head. “Well, you know where I stand,” he begins as he crosses his legs and rests his hands on his knees. “And what happened to you? I thought you wanted to marry me?” His bushy brows lift as my stomach drops. So, he will bring that up now? Perfect.
“I say stupid things when I’m nervous.” I shrug and pace the room.
“Really? Well, you’ve been sending me a lot of mixed messages, Mel.”
I stop pacing, and lock eyes with Ronan with my mouth hanging open. I can’t argue. To him, I’ve been so hot and cold, I wonder how he can stand to be in the same room as me.
“There’s no doubt I want to throw myself on you, I mean you are…” I make a noise of frustration. “Irresistible.” Ronan’s face turns gleeful.
“Keep going,” he says with a grin. I grin back for a moment. Then my cheeks fall.
“Look, if you were a foster kid like I was… you’d get it. I have trust issues. Besides, our relationship is tangled up in this joke of a show.” I cast my eyes to the floor and wring my hands.
“You’re worried I’ll leave you when it ends?”
Ronan’s voice is heavy and defeated. I tentatively meet his gaze and see something that takes me by surprise. His eyes glistening with tears.
“If you could just be honest with me about why you need the money, I think I could trust you.” I tip toe to the bed and kneel on the edge as Ronan looks away. His hands curl into fists and a single tear rolls down his cheek.
“Is it hard to believe that I don’t want to tell you… for your own good?” He looks up at the ceiling and makes a heavy sigh.
“I don’t understand,” I say slowly.
“I don’t want to put you under any pressure. And I’m concerned that by telling you how high the stakes are…”
“Ronan just tell me,” I say, placing my hand on his. I lean in, hovering less than a foot away from his face. His eyes meet mine again, and he blinks. A long moment passes as Ronan stares at me. As if judging whether he has the courage to divulge the information or not.
“Fine.” He says, sitting up straight. Then he clears his throat and wipes his eyes. “I’ll tell you everything.”
Chapter Twenty
“My mum and I are close. I’m all she has.” Ronan rubs his palms together slowly and speaks to the cotton blanket on the bed rather than look up at me. I sit in silence, patiently waiting for the story to come out. “Ever since my sister died, I made it my life’s mission to take care of my mum.” Ronan breaks off and buries his face in his hands.
I hold my breath and stare at him with wide eyes. This is quite a surprising revelation. I was certain that he was on the run from loan sharks because of a gambling addiction.
“So, when my mum got sick last year…” Ronan can hardly speak now. His voice breaks and sounds hollow. My heart aches to watch him wrestle with himself as he tries to talk. “I just got on with it. I took over everything so she could focus on getting better.”
Ronan lifts his head and throws himself back to lie down.
After a deep exhale, he continues.
“After all the treatment, they gave her weeks. There was nothing more the doctors could do.” A long pause follows, and I gently place my hand on his knee.
“Ronan, I’m so sorry.” I can hardly get the words out as they catch in the back of my throat. Now I feel like a jerk. All this time, I thought he was hiding something awful and playing me to win a bunch of money. I could not have been more wrong.
“What do you need the money for?”
Ronan rolls to his side and props up on an elbow to look at me. He sniffs and ruffles his hair.
“I did something bad.”
My stomach lurches, but I hold my expectant smile steady and give him a nod to carry on.
“There’s this
clinic… in Sweden. I was reading up about their treatments for terminally ill patients. Their success rate is outstanding. And when I discussed my mum’s case with them, they offered her a bed.”
My blood turns cold and I stare at Ronan, unsure whether to be hopeful or sad.
“We had to try. I sold my apartment for peanuts to an investor. Worked double shifts to bring in the money for the deposit and pay for flights.” Ronan sighed heavily. “The next instalment is due in a month.”
I take a deep breath and close my eyes.
“And let me guess… it’s £50,000?” I say. Ronan nods.
“There was no way I’d raise money like that.”
“So, you thought it would be a good idea to sign up for the Love Trials? Even though you’re single?”
“Yeah about that…” Ronan scratches the back of neck again and gives a guilty smile.
“Jewel is my aunt.”
I’m sure my eyes bulge like a cartoon character.
“I don’t––”
Ronan buries his head in the pillow for a moment, then moans.
“Jewel is my mum’s sister. They were not close. But when she found out about her diagnosis, she wanted to help. Thing is, the Love Trials has been losing money each year. This is the last show before they cancel it.”
I would gasp, but the news is not entirely surprising. Especially considering the rundown cabin we are sitting in, rather than a five-star hotel in Ibiza.
“So, Jewel wants you to win the show? Why won’t she just give you the money?”
“It’s tied up in the business. You can’t just draw it out and give it to someone.”
“So, they rig the show?” Suddenly, everything makes sense. The dramatic changes, fake couples, and for Julian to favour us. We probably didn’t even get any votes.
