Someone Like You: Escape with this perfect uplifting romance

by Tracy Corbett

  He gave her a puzzled look. ‘Have you had enough?’

  ‘I have. Silly me, I forgot to put on sunscreen. I think I’m burning.’ She rubbed her arms and winced for effect.

  His eyes grew wide. ‘You’re not wearing sunscreen? Bloody hell. We definitely need to get you back.’ He swung his legs into the boat and began frantically rowing.

  Shame and guilt battled for prime position within her.

  Why had she lied?

  But she knew why. Because sometimes lying was easier than admitting the truth.

  Over the years when people had asked her if was okay, she’d told them she was fine, even though she wasn’t. She would smile when she was sad, and she would mask her tears when she was unhappy. Why? Because no one really wanted to hear the truth. They were asking out of politeness. It would have been indulgent to moan or complain about her lot. Especially given what her granddad had had to deal with. So she’d lied. She’d pretended she was okay, when she was anything but.

  She’d even lied to her granddad, editing the information the doctor had given her about his health for fear of upsetting him. Did he really need to know he was on ‘borrowed time’? Or that a ‘Do Not Resuscitate’ order had been added to his medical file? She didn’t think so.

  Sometimes the truth was too painful. Sometimes lying was the kinder option.

  Although in this case, if she was being honest, it was because the truth was too shameful. There was no way she was about to start relaying the sadness of her life to a hot bloke she’d met in the Caribbean who ran his own flipping company. He’d run a mile. And who could blame him?

  No, a little pretence was called for. Nothing harmful, just something to boost her confidence and allow her to keep up the pretence of being a successful, happy, confident adult.

  And anyway, was it really lying? After all, she did design clothes. She just didn’t get paid for it. And that was just semantics.

  Who was she trying to kid?

  But saying she was a ‘designer’ out loud had been empowering. It had filled her with pride. She’d liked the way it had sounded.

  There was no doubt about it, when she returned home she was going to become a proper designer. Definitely.

  Excellent plan.

  In the meantime, she just had to keep up a little white lie, try to avoid the topic of her work life, and keep on rowing until they reached the safety of the beach.

  Piece of cake.

  Chapter Six

  Sunday, 21 March

  Will took a deep breath and smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed. The sky above was cobalt-blue, the golden sand below was soft and warm. The only sound was the lapping of the waves caressing the shoreline and the faint music coming from the bar further down the beach. He felt boneless, his body devoid of tension. No doubt helped by the absence of daily chores and the effect of two beers.

  He rolled his head to one side and watched a gecko dart across the sand towards a palm tree. Its splayed legs and deft claws gripped the bark as it disappeared up into the foliage.

  He rolled his head to the other side, and his smile increased at the sight of Lily lying on the lounger next to him. She looked as relaxed as he did. She was reading a book, her ankles crossed, one arm tucked under her head.

  He allowed his gaze to travel the length of her, from her flushed cheeks to her lightly tanned skin, and ended up fixated on her pink toenails. She wore a turquoise-patterned sundress over a matching bikini. The dress had fallen open, revealing her shapely legs, causing his gaze to linger a little longer.

  He’d spent most of the last two days in her company. On Friday, they’d met for lunch at The Olive Branch and then relaxed by the infinity pool, occasionally visiting the heated whirlpool, which had been both incredibly soothing and alarmingly distracting. The warm bubbles and fragrant aroma were the perfect antidote for unwinding. But the intimacy of the space, combined with the sensation of Lily’s warm skin sliding against his, had left his senses feeling alert and heightened, not subdued.

  Yesterday, she’d treated herself to a day at the spa, so he’d walked into the local village and bought Poppy a cuddly iguana and a cute shoulder bag with a giant parrot embroidered on the side. He’d met up with Lily in the evening, and they’d enjoyed a meal at the hotel’s à la carte restaurant. Lily was easy to talk to, self-deprecating and funny. They’d talked about films, and he’d discovered her taste ranged from 1930s horror movies to 1950s musicals. Her favourite actor was Jack Lemmon and her favourite film was Benny & Joon. And whereas there was nothing wrong with her choices, they weren’t exactly current. The last film she’d seen at the cinema was Black Swan. It was like she’d been absent from the world for more than a decade and was frantically trying to catch up.

  But despite her slightly dated persona, there was nothing artificial about her, even though at times she looked uncomfortable, like she was battling between wanting to let loose or moderate her behaviour. She was an eclectic mixture of worldly wisdom and childlike innocence. And he was fascinated.

  The evening had ended with a walk along the beach. Conversation had flowed easily, which was just as well. If it hadn’t, they might have registered the soft moonlight and star-filled sky and realised the setting was incredibly romantic. As it happened, they’d ended up joining the other guests at the foam party on the beach, which was about as far from romantic as you could get.

  The music was incredibly loud. Strobe lighting had lit the area, and a huge gun-like contraption blasted everyone with foamy suds. Within half an hour, they were soaking wet and covered in soap. The dye from Lily’s red dress had leaked, streaking down her arms and legs, making it look like she was bleeding. It was funny and surreal and weirdly sexy. Which was crazy. There they were, dancing on a beach to Shakira, laughing as they had sunk into the soft sand and slipped all over the place from being sprayed with foam. There should have been nothing sexy about it. It wasn’t logical.

  But her wet dress had clung to Lily’s body, leaving nothing to the imagination, and their suddy hands had slipped over each other as they’d tried to stay upright. That alone had played havoc with his ability to behave himself.

  Not that he’d allowed anything untoward to happen. He might have registered the sexual nature of the situation, but Lily hadn’t. Far from flirting with him, she’d just been enjoying herself. Dancing, laughing, and squealing when she was sprayed with foam.

  There was only one moment when the atmosphere had changed. And that was when they’d left the beach and stopped by the pool shower to rinse off. As they’d stood under the running water, bathed in moonlight, wiping foam and red dye from each other, the laughter had faded into a moment of stillness. Their eyes had locked. Their hands had entwined. And their bodies had touched. As the moment intensified, their faces drew closer… but just as their lips were about to touch, sudden laughter had broken the moment. A group of drunken partygoers had appeared from the beach and had staggered up the pathway.

  Dripping and messy, Will and Lily had jumped apart and returned to their hotel block, where they’d parted company with a brief cheek kiss, the only intentional intimacy they’d shared all night.

  He hadn’t minded. It had been a lovely evening.

  But he’d be lying if he said it hadn’t left him wanting more.

  As if sensing him staring, Lily glanced up from her reading.

  ‘Good book?’ he said, trying to cover being sprung watching her.

  ‘Not bad.’ She pushed her sunglasses onto her head. ‘The baddie is about to get his comeuppance. I hope the hero saves the day.’

  ‘Disappointing if he doesn’t.’

  ‘She.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  She smiled. ‘The hero is female.’

  ‘Ah, right. My mistake.’ He shook his head. ‘Underlying sexism. The bane of women’s lives, eh?’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘It’s just nice to be able to relax and read. I can’t remember the last t
ime I finished a book in two days.’

  ‘You don’t read much at home?’

  ‘I do, but it tends to be when I’m in bed. After two chapters I’m usually asleep.’

  ‘The busy life of a designer, eh?’

  She glanced away. ‘Something like that.’ She covered her knees with her dress, as if needing to distract herself. ‘Do you read?’

  ‘Not much.’

  The last book he’d read was one of the Harry Potters, and that was read out loud to his poorly daughter when she’d been laid up with a stomach upset. He’d enjoyed reading to Poppy when she was small; it was one of the few things he’d felt confident doing as a parent, but now she’d outgrown the need to be read to. He was redundant. Maybe he should start reading more? But when would he have the time?

  Thoughts of Poppy reminded him he still hadn’t mentioned his status as a ‘widowed father’. Guilt flooded through him, as it always did when thoughts of his home life filtered into his brain. Keeping Poppy a secret made it seem like he was ashamed of her, and he wasn’t. Far from it. As painful as it had been losing Sara, he’d never for one second regretted having Poppy. She meant everything to him. So why not mention her?

  Well for one thing, it would seem weird now. He couldn’t just casually drop his eleven-year-old daughter into the conversation, when for the past week he’d not said a word. It would make him look like he had something to hide.

  And besides, there was no need to mention Poppy. She was no one else’s business but his. He’d come to the Caribbean for a break. Not thinking or talking about his homelife was doing him the world of good. Poppy was having a great time at camp, and he was relishing the opportunity to focus on his own needs and be selfish for once. Was that so wrong?

  ‘So, what are your interests, apart from planning events?’ Lily asked, breaking into his thoughts. ‘I’m guessing golf?’

  He frowned at her. ‘Why golf?’

  ‘Isn’t that what most men of your age group enjoy?’

  ‘Are you implying I’m old?’

  ‘Of course not… much.’

  He feigned looking indignant. ‘Thanks!’

  ‘If it’s not golf, what is it? Metal detecting? Building model railways? Topiary?’

  He laughed. ‘How old do you think I am?’

  ‘Eighty-four.’

  He nudged her foot. ‘Cheers.’

  ‘But you look good for an octogenarian. You’re ageing well.’

  ‘Good to know.’ He rolled onto his side. ‘I feel eighty-four when I play football. My knees aren’t as accommodating as they used to be.’

  ‘You play sports?’

  He nodded. ‘Just not golf.’

  He was stretching the truth somewhat. He hadn’t ‘played’ sports for years. These days he was an observer, not a participant. It had been years since he’d had the time to do anything other than visit the gym twice a week. Even then, it was often a rushed session, as he needed to get home to Poppy.

  ‘What else apart from sport?’ Her chin balanced on one hand as she studied him. ‘Do you have any other pastimes?’

  Sure. He had all sorts of pastimes. Playing with dolls. Making up pretend games. Running around the local park, dressing up as Pierrot the Clown… But none of these he could admit to.

  ‘Dinner with friends,’ he said, even though this was another thing he rarely did any more. ‘Meeting up with uni mates.’ Another thing he hadn’t done much of over the years. ‘And travelling. I’ve been to some amazing places.’ Which was entirely true… but again, just not recently.

  Her face lit up. ‘Really? I’d love to travel.’ And then her cheeks coloured. ‘What I mean is… I’d love to travel more.’ She made a scoffing sound. ‘Of course, I’ve travelled. It’s not that I haven’t been anywhere… but there are loads more places I’d love to visit.’

  ‘Where—’

  ‘Where have you been?’ She cut him off before he could ask the same question. ‘Where were some of your favourite places?’

  He sensed Lily wanted to keep the conversation focused on him. Okay. A little strange, but he was happy to oblige. ‘Bali was a favourite.’ He’d gone there on his honeymoon. ‘And Florida. Goa. Italy. Brazil.’ All the places he’d visited with Sara. ‘And Switzerland.’

  He wasn’t sure why he’d said Switzerland. Zermatt had been one of his favourite destinations – until the accident. It was now tarnished with painful memories that meant he’d for ever associate the place with the loss of his wife.

  ‘Did you go skiing in Switzerland? I’ve always wanted to ski.’ Lily sounded wistful.

  He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

  ‘Not that I’d be any good,’ she said. ‘I’d probably crack my head open.’

  He turned away. For a moment, he struggled to breathe.

  She touched his arm. ‘Sorry, have I said something wrong?’

  He forced a smile. ‘Of course not. I’m a bit squeamish, that’s all,’ he lied, trying to compose himself. ‘I was imagining all that blood.’

  ‘Oh… right.’

  He doubted she believed him, but she let the matter drop.

  They fell into an uncomfortable silence. Will lost in his thoughts.

  He saw Lily glance at him, probably wondering how she’d put her foot in it, and he felt bad for her. He was being unfair. He’d chosen not to tell her about his life, so he couldn’t be upset that she’d struck a nerve.

  Deciding he needed to lighten the mood, he swung his legs around off the lounger. ‘Okay, time for a swim. Fancy joining me?’

  She closed her book. ‘I do.’

  ‘If you’re feeling brave, how about a banana boat ride?’

  ‘No way.’ She stood up and unhooked her dress straps, letting her sundress drop to the floor. He was suddenly eye level with her exposed midriff, his face so close that he could see the outline of her ribs.

  He looked away and told himself to get a grip. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen a woman’s body before. What was wrong with him? He was acting like a schoolboy with a first crush.

  ‘Have you seen the speed of those things?’ Lily said, oblivious to his distracted state. ‘It’s a wonder anyone survives.’

  Will stood up and forced his gaze away from her curves. ‘What happened to being more adventurous?’

  ‘There’s being adventurous, and then there’s acting plain crazy.’ She slipped her feet into her flip-flops. ‘Anyway, if you think I’m going to humiliate myself while you sit laughing at me on the beach, think again.’

  ‘As if I’d do that. I was going to do it with you.’

  She shielded her eyes from the sun, looking at him suspiciously. ‘You were?’

  ‘It looks like fun.’ He grinned at her. ‘Tempted?’

  She glanced out to sea, screwed up her forehead in contemplation, and then looked back at him. ‘Okay. You’re on.’

  He was shocked. ‘You’re going to do it?’

  ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’ She held her hand up. ‘Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.’ She stepped into her sundress and wiggled it back up her body.

  He tried not to stare.

  ‘Let’s go, before I chicken out.’ She fastened her bum bag around her waist and they made their way down the beach to the sailing centre.

  He hadn’t expected her to say yes. She was full of surprises. Part fearless, part mouse.

  She nudged his arm. ‘What’s so funny?’

  He turned to her. ‘Pardon?’

  ‘That is not the expression of an innocent man. What do you know that I don’t?’

  He was struggling not to laugh. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Fibber.’ She pinned him with a glare. ‘Have you done this before?’

  ‘I have not.’ Which was true.

  ‘Why do I feel a but coming…?’

  ‘There’s nothing, I promise.’ He took her hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. ‘Trust me, this is going to be fun.’

  ‘Yeah, but for whom?’
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br />   Her indignant expression made him laugh, but then he realised he was still holding her hand. Why had he done that? It had been an impulse. An excuse to stop her escaping. But now he was stuck. He could hardly just let go. That would seem rude, like a rejection. But continuing to keep hold of it felt too intimate. Like they were a couple. And they definitely weren’t a couple. Holding hands was something people in a relationship did. It felt like a betrayal to Sara to hold another woman’s hand.

  The familiar feeling of guilt re-emerged.

  He used the excuse of reaching the sailing centre to let go.

  ‘There’s a group on a banana boat now.’ He pointed to the yellow inflatable contraption on the water. ‘Doesn’t look so bad, does it?’

  She watched the boat bumping along the water, the participants bouncing around as the speedboat changed direction. ‘I guess it looks okay,’ she said, until the speedboat swerved and the banana boat flew in the air, dislodging all four passengers. She gasped. ‘But that doesn’t!’

  ‘It’s part of the experience.’

  ‘What, face-planting in the water?’

  He laughed at her disgruntled expression. ‘Lightweight.’

  ‘Need I remind you, I’ve already nearly drowned once this holiday taking part in that wretched Wipeout game.’

  He gave her an admonishing look. ‘You’re backing out?’

  ‘No—’ She fiddled with her bum bag. ‘I’m merely reassessing my options.’ She looked around, as if searching for a way out, and then pointed to a blue inflatable sofa-seat, bouncing gently at the water’s edge. ‘That looks safer.’

  He didn’t have the heart to tell her the outcome would be the same. ‘Fine by me. I’ll book us in.’

  Ten minutes later, they were kitted out with lifejackets and protective helmets and were wading into the sea to reach the inflatable craft.

  He watched Lily tuck her dress into her bikini bottoms and climb onto the sofa-seat. ‘Need a hand?’