by Ella Hayes
* * *
Joel raked his fingers through the sand, watching the tumbling waves. The breeze was cool this morning, stiffer, but it felt nice. The smooth boulder behind him felt nice too. Cold. Cooling his blood, calming him down. To think he’d got as far as throwing his bag into the boat! Dumskalle! The thump of the bag on the deck had broken his fever, brought him to his senses. Leaving wasn’t an option when everything he wanted was here and he was going to fight for it, couldn’t not fight for it. But waking Emilie at four-thirty in the morning to tell her that he was in love with her had seemed a bit inconsiderate, so instead, he’d walked round and round the island, watching the sky growing lighter.
Emilie! He’d wanted to tell her what was in his heart the moment he’d got back from Salt Island, but she’d seemed so preoccupied with the cake that it hadn’t felt like the right time for a romantic declaration. The beach at dusk, with the brazier glowing and reggae music playing had seemed perfect, but then she’d hit him with her whole cooling-off speech. Kristus! He’d never felt pain like it, tearing right through him. He’d felt blind with it, delirious. How he’d managed to smile, toasting the success of her café, he’d never know.
He couldn’t remember driving the boat back or walking her to the cottage. It was all a blur except...for that moment at her door. It was where he’d kissed her for the first time and, standing there again, her eyes on his, he’d wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless, but she’d set new rules and he wasn’t the kind of man to cross a boundary like that. So he’d kissed her cheek, told her he loved her—jag älskar dig—and left.
Why had he said it in Swedish, knowing she wouldn’t understand? His belly quivered. Because for a split second he’d felt scared that his love wasn’t real enough or deep enough. Emilie had invested all those years in Tom and had lost everything. Loving Emilie came with a weight of responsibility. A responsibility to keep loving her, to take that love on a journey, with stops, like marriage, and a family. She deserved nothing less. In that desperate moment at her door, he’d realised that if he was going to try to change her mind, he needed to be damn sure of his feelings and he’d known last night, aching and miserable, that he’d been in no place to judge. But now he was.
He rubbed his palms on his chinos and got to his feet, felt warmth flowing through his veins. From the moment Emilie had dived on to the sand to help him with the runaway sail he’d felt his heart stirring. That exact moment when she’d caught his eye was the moment he’d fallen in love. He knew it now, but he hadn’t quite seen it at the time. What he’d seen, what had taken him over, was a puzzle.
He’d thought of it as the puzzle of Astrid, a quest to understand how his long-term relationship could have died with barely a whimper, but really, the puzzle had always been about himself. He’d needed to find out who he was, needed to know that he could trust himself, and his feelings about the past, about his family and about Emilie. He’d had to lift a few rocks, peel back a few corners, but from the moment he’d straightened it all out in his mind, from the moment he’d understood the reasons for everything, his love for Emilie had flown free. And it was still there, shining away, but did she love him back?
He bent to pick up a cowrie shell. Last night, she’d pushed him away, but he’d felt her love flowing so many times, seen it in her eyes, felt it in her kiss and in her touch, that he had to believe in it. She’d been hurt so badly. If she’d been trying to protect herself, then it was understandable. They’d jumped in with both feet, going with the flow, but Emilie wasn’t any more casual about relationships than he was. Maybe all she needed to hear was that he was ready to start talking about strings. If she needed time, reassurance, he could wait because he was sure. If pain was the body’s way of telling you that something was wrong, then the pain he’d felt at the thought of losing Emilie was enough to show him that his feelings were true.
He checked his watch and started walking. By the time he got to Emilie’s cottage, it would be six-thirty. She’d probably be up, drinking coffee on the veranda. Hopefully, she’d listen, let him tell her that he was in love with her. Was it too soon to tell her that he wanted a future for them, full of happiness and babies?
He felt a smile coming. At the party, watching her cradling Ben in her arms with that fond look on her face, he’d felt his heart blooming like it had that first night in the kitchen when she’d got the text about Ben’s arrival. Her eyes had been glistening with happiness and he’d felt such a strange shock of emotion that he’d thought he was suffering with exhaustion. But it hadn’t been fatigue. He knew that now.
It had been an awakening, a sudden unexpected recognition that he wanted a family of his own, a bunch of noisy kids, well, hopefully not too noisy! But he would never make them enter speed-cubing competitions...or any other competitions unless they wanted to. He’d simply let them be whatever they wanted to be, supporting them, encouraging them, but never trying to mould them into being anything other than what they were, because that was what love meant, accepting people for what they were.
He sighed, felt sadness aching in his chest. If only his father had been able to accept him like that. If Lars had respected his quiet nature instead of trying to make him into something he wasn’t, then they might have had a better relationship. Emilie, kind-hearted as always, had said that maybe Lars had been trying to bring him out of his shell. He fingered the cowrie, felt a guilty shiver running along his spine. He’d only ever shown his father a cool, smooth surface. He’d kept everything inside, trying to make himself amenable, because Lars was loud and intimidating, but what if he’d actually told Lars how much he hated the competitions? At least it would have given Lars the chance to understand. He drew an uncomfortable breath. At the distillery Emilie had thrown him a curved ball. She’d said that maybe Lars found him intimidating. He stopped, shifting the heaviness around in his chest. So many shards and splinters seemed to be rearranging themselves into new configurations. Could it be that the disappointment he’d been reading in his father’s eyes for all these years had nothing to do with the family business at all? Could it be that Lars was simply disappointed that they had never really got to know one another?
He weighed the shell in his hand, then backstepped into a lunge, pitching it up and out across the water. Impossible to know what was in Lars’s head unless...he asked. A momentary unease stirred in his belly, but it was only the ghost of old resentments. He drew in a long breath. He could try talking to Lars. It might come to nothing but whatever the outcome, he’d handle it because he wasn’t that shy, intimidated boy any more.
He felt a warm glow chasing away the heaviness. Emilie would approve of him reaching out to his father. She was all heart. One of life’s creators—a warm, beautiful soul—who needed to understand that she didn’t always need to be creating something for people to love her. He’d help her to see that she was perfect just the way she was, if she’d let him...
‘Joel!’
Emilie? He spun round, felt his heart exploding. She was running flat out along the water’s edge towards him, hair streaming behind her, pale cardigan flapping, wet splashes darkly peppering her pink pyjama shorts. For a beat, he couldn’t breathe. She was coming for him, sprinting...in her pyjamas! It had to mean she loved him. It had to.
Hjärtat! Sweetheart!
For an infuriating moment his legs wouldn’t work, then they started to move and he was running, heart racing and racing, legs going faster and faster, closing the distance between them until it was five metres, four, three, two, one, and she was launching herself into his arms, crying, kissing his face and his lips, over and over again and he was kissing her right back, breathing in her flowery, spun sugar smell, tasting the salt on her lips and the heat in her mouth, taking it all, taking everything until his head was spinning. He tangled his hands into the dark softness of her hair, pulling her closer, but it wasn’t close enough, or warm enough, or deep enough. He cupped her face, k
issing her eyelids and her cheeks, kissing away the tracks of her tears.
‘Jag älskar dig. I love you, Emilie. I love you.’ He kissed her again, his heart filling and filling. ‘I love you.’
Her eyes were full of light and tears. ‘I love you too. So much...’ She was smiling and crying at the same time. ‘I’m so sorry... I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was scared...trying to save myself from...but I should have talked to you, not just...’ Tears were streaming down her cheeks, breaking his heart. ‘I can’t believe I let you go...’ She was biting her lips. ‘Do you have to go?’
‘No, no... Don’t cry.’ He smoothed away her tears with his thumbs. ‘I’m not leaving.’
‘So those meetings...?’
He felt a small pang of guilt. ‘I do have meetings, but they’re scheduled for after I leave here.’ He took a breath. ‘I just said I had to leave because—’
Her hands went to his face. ‘Because I pushed you away and you were hurting...’ Her lips touched his. ‘No more hurting each other, okay? We need to talk...sort things out.’
Sorting things out was exactly what he wanted to do and now there was a whole week ahead of them in which to do it. He felt his heart lifting and lifting. Just being with Emilie filled him to the brim. And she loved him. She loved him.
He felt grateful, happy tears burning behind his eyes and he didn’t care that she could see, because he was laying his heart on the line and it felt so good to be showing her all the love he was feeling inside. It felt freeing, like flying the hull... No! It was better than flying the hull, so much better. He smiled. ‘Sorting things out sounds perfect to me.’ He tilted her chin, kissing her softly. ‘I have a few ideas about how we could make a start on that.’
She giggled, arching her eyebrows. ‘They always say it’s the quiet ones you have to watch.’
He laughed. ‘You’ve seen nothing yet. Come on...’ He caught her hand, meaning to walk, but her hand was a tight ball. ‘Hey, what’s this?’
She opened her palm. ‘Keys to the boat.’ Her lips were twitching. ‘There was no way I was going to let you go without saying goodbye.’
A fresh burst of warmth filled his heart. He pulled her close, kissing her again. ‘I’m definitely not saying goodbye.’ He smiled. ‘I seem to be tangled up in someone’s strings and I kind of like it.’
Her eyes sparkled. ‘I like it too.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
One year later...
‘HEY, YOU...’
Emilie felt her heart jolt and skip. What was Joel doing, standing in the cottage doorway? He wasn’t supposed to be seeing her until later. She glanced at the two marzipan figures she’d just finished making, supposedly a surprise, but it was too late now, he was walking towards her, giving her the full cute dimple treatment. It was impossible not to smile. ‘Hey, but also...what are you doing here? I’m sure this isn’t allowed... It’s bad luck.’
‘That’s just silly superstition.’ He was stepping behind her, sliding his arms around her waist, pulling her in. She snuggled against him, happiness surging through her veins. Being wrapped in Joel’s arms never grew old. His lips were grazing her ear. ‘I insist on saying good morning on our wedding day...’
Wedding day! She hugged the thought hard. A year ago, she’d thought her life was in ruins and now...she felt her veins tingling...now, she had a whole new future, a better one than she could ever have imagined. They might have started out as holiday lovers, they might have had to jump through a few hoops, but ever since she’d run into Joel’s arms on the beach a year ago, it had been plain sailing.
The week they’d spent together before Joel had really had to go off to Miami had been filled with love and joy and laughter. They’d talked so much, opening up about everything. They’d sailed and swum. They’d explored more of the islands, but Buck Island had always felt like the best one. It was their special place because it was where they’d fallen in love.
It was why they were getting married on the beach, in the exact spot where Joel had landed his catamaran on the day they’d met. It was why she was making the surprise cake topper for their wedding cake. Two figures. A tall handsome one in orange swim shorts and life vest and a smaller dark-haired one in a swimsuit and sarong.
Joel was smiling into her neck. ‘Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?’
‘You are, but you weren’t supposed to see anything until the wedding breakfast.’ She wriggled herself round to face him, trying to look stern. ‘It was meant to be a surprise.’
‘It is a surprise!’ He peered over her shoulder. ‘They’re fantastic, although...’ his eyebrows drew in ‘...the Emilie figure isn’t nearly sexy enough.’
‘Flattery will get you everywhere.’ She tipped her face up for a kiss, melting into the warmth of his lips, breathing in his clean, masculine scent. Joel had a way of making her feel special, of making her feel enough, perfect just the way she was. It was hard not to start believing in yourself when you were with someone who believed in you so absolutely, someone who took your dreams into their own heart.
Joel had encouraged her to buy the café in Salton. She’d set it up exactly the way she’d planned, but it hadn’t been long before she was handing things over to a manager. Being apart from Joel most of the week had been too hard and, after he’d walked in one afternoon and dropped to his knee, proposing to her in front of all her customers, she hadn’t had to think twice. He’d said he’d have asked sooner if he hadn’t been worried that she’d think he was rushing things. As if! She slipped her hands to his face, breaking the kiss. ‘So how are things up at the house? How’s Grandma?’
He stepped back a little. ‘She was in the pool with Lars when I left, talking his ear off.’
‘That’s Grandma! You think your father’s larger than life? He’s got nothing on Grandma!’
Joel laughed. ‘It’s entertaining to see a big man taken down by a little old lady.’
She slipped her arms around him, feeling a little swell of gladness. ‘I’m so happy that all the family are here...’ Her mum and dad had made it and her sisters with their husbands. Joel’s family were full on, different to Joel, but they were good fun, and now that Joel had built some bridges with Lars, he seemed more centred, freer of spirit. Parents could so mess up their kids! She held in a smile. Hopefully, she and Joel wouldn’t screw things up with their kids. Making a baby was their agreed honeymoon project.
‘That’s a very wide smile you’re wearing, Mrs Larsson-to-Be.’
‘I can’t think why.’ She stretched up, kissing him again. ‘I’m only about to marry the most wonderful man in the world.’
He was beaming his dimple right at her. ‘Of course. Right...yeah...you are.’
She laughed. ‘I think you should go now. I’ve got to start transforming myself into a bride, and you need to go check on things at the house.’
‘About that transformation...’ His eyes were twinkling. ‘I’ve got a little something for you...a surprise of my own.’ He was reaching into his back pocket. ‘It’s why I came to see you.’ A black velvet box came into view. He cracked it open, eyes on hers. ‘I hope you like it...’
She looked down, felt tears prickling her eyes. It was beautiful. A fine gold chain with a single, substantial solitaire diamond in a simple setting. Understated, elegant. It was going to be perfect with her dress. She bit her lip. ‘Oh, Joel. It’s lovely. Thank you.’ She met his gaze, felt her heart bursting with happiness, not because of the diamond, but because of him, because in a little over three hours he would be her husband. She slipped her arms around him, kissing him with all the love in her heart. It was going to be the longest three hours of her life.
* * *
‘Are you nervous?’ Nils was leaning in, nodding at the hipflask glinting in his hand. ‘I’ve got some Dutch courage in here.’
Joel shook his head, smiling. ‘I’m not nervous and I’
d quite like not to be smelling of whisky when I kiss my bride, but thanks.’ It had only been three hours since he’d last seen Emilie and he was missing her like crazy, aching to see her walking towards him. Loving Emilie meant missing Emilie. He’d learned that the hard way.
Encouraging her to go ahead with Café Hygge in Salton had felt right at the time. It was her dream and a damn good idea to boot, but even though he hadn’t wanted to rush things or put her under any pressure, being without Emilie in Stockholm had been unbearable. So he’d bought a ring and taken the plunge. Proposing to her in Café Hygge surrounded by curious old ladies had been interesting, but worth it just to see that smile lighting up her face, the one that made her eyes sparkle, the one that stopped his heart every time. It was the smile that had stolen his breath on this very beach, in this very spot, a year ago.
He glanced at his bare feet, flexing his toes. Getting married on Buck Island had been the obvious choice. It was the first place they’d thought of when they’d started planning. They’d both loved the idea of a late afternoon wedding on the beach, followed by a relaxed wedding breakfast at the house. All they’d had to do was put out chairs for the small gathering. Erris had made the rustic driftwood arch he was standing under and Melinda and Kesney had woven flowers through it, whites and delicate pinks, rather different to the vibrant tropical displays they’d chosen for the terrace up at the house.
He looked up, catching his father’s eye. Lars moved his head minutely. A nod. He nodded back. There was a smoothness between them now. Acceptance. It felt better. Family! He scanned the faces...his mother and his sisters... Stephen talking to Jemima and Rebecca, Grandma tipping him a leery wink. He held in a smile. She was a character!
He moved on. Erris and Melinda, beaming... Kesney and Will trying to hold on to a wriggly Ben. Emilie’s parents were sitting shoulder to shoulder, holding hands. Emilie hadn’t wanted her father to walk her up the aisle. She’d said that she wanted to walk alone... She’d said it was a sort of symbolic gesture, because it would be the last time that she’d ever walk alone... She was right! He had no intention of letting her go. Ever!
