by Kate Hardy
‘That’s impressive,’ he said.
‘I want to make a difference,’ she said. ‘Yes, it’s a little bit more expensive than using the cash and carry supermarket, and my prices reflect that—but my customers know that when they buy from me they’re supporting local businesses and reducing their carbon footprint. And that’s important to them as well as to me.’
He could just see Abigail being named local businessperson of the year. And he was proud of the woman she’d become: bright, confident and with a huge heart. The woman he’d always known she’d become. The woman he missed so very much...
Not that he could tell her that. He didn’t have the right. Not any more.
‘It sounds as if you’re really settled. Though I’m guessing the hours you work are ridiculous.’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t mind. I love it here. I love the café, I love my staff, and I love Great Crowmell.’
Which was a timely warning for him. He didn’t love it here. He didn’t love the town, he didn’t want to come back here, and his job was in London. There was no room for compromise, not when they lived three hours apart. That would be way too much of a commute for either of them.
So keeping things polite and a little bit distant would be the best the two of them could do. As for that weird yearning: he’d just have to try and bury it until he was back in London.
He managed to make polite conversation until the end of the meal, and then drove her back to Great Crowmell. Even if he hadn’t hired the cottage next door to hers, he would’ve walked her home—his father had impressed the importance of good manners on him.
‘Goodnight,’ he said outside her front door, and leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. Just to prove to both of them that they could do this—that they would be fine around each other at the wedding.
Except somehow his lips didn’t meet her cheek.
Instead, they brushed against her lips. Very gently. Very lightly.
It felt as if he’d been burned.
But, instead of backing away sensibly, he found himself kissing her again. Then he drew back far enough to look her straight in the eye.
Sea green.
Not grey.
And her lips were parted very, very slightly. Inviting him. Telling him that it was the same for her—that right at this second she wanted them to kiss, too.
Memories collided in his head. The first time he’d kissed her, in the moonlight among the roses. The first time he’d kissed her before making love. Kissing her over the anvil in Gretna Green, their first kiss as a married couple.
How he’d missed her.
How he wanted her.
And he couldn’t help leaning forward again. This time, she let him deepen the kiss, sliding her hands round the back of his neck and twining her fingers in his hair. And he wrapped his arms round her, holding her close, feeling the thud of her heartbeat—just as she must be feeling the thud of his.
Her mouth was so soft. So sweet. And it felt as if every nerve end in his body had just burst into life after five years of being dormant.
Shaking, he broke the kiss, and they stared at each other.
* * *
That really, really wasn’t supposed to happen, Abigail thought. Right now Brad was more off limits than he’d ever been. It was Ruby’s wedding in four days’ time and they were supposed to be keeping a truce, not trying to rekindle the past. She was supposed to be telling him that they could be friends and nothing else.
But the way he’d just kissed her had blown her mind.
His hands were still splayed on her back and her hands were still loosely round his neck. Right now, they were like the teenagers they’d once been, kissing in a doorway.
And she felt just as she had the first time he’d ever kissed her, in that rose garden. Light-headed, needing to hold on to him to stop herself falling over.
This was a really bad idea.
They needed to stop.
Now.
She slid her hands back from his neck and took one step backwards, not quite trusting herself to stand upright, but thankfully that one step meant she could lean against her front door. And he clearly felt the same way that she did—spooked by the strong sensual reaction between them and not knowing what to do—because he stopped holding her, but he didn’t move from where he was.
What now?
It would be oh, so easy to step forward again, kiss him and lead him upstairs to her bedroom. But she knew it would be a hideous mistake and they’d both regret it in the morning. They couldn’t go back. Shouldn’t go back.
‘I...’ Her voice sounded cracked to her own ears.
‘We shouldn’t,’ he said, his own voice sounding just as hoarse.
‘We have a truce. For Ruby’s sake.’ She forced the words out. ‘And we’ll be polite and civil to each other.’
‘Agreed.’
‘I’m going to bed now,’ she said. When she realised that it sounded like an invitation, she added, ‘Alone.’ And her voice would have to squeak on that word, wouldn’t it?
‘Me, too,’ he said. Though his expression said otherwise. The heat in his eyes told her he wanted to repeat their wedding night, to carry her over the threshold of their bedroom and then make slow, sweet love to her until they were both dizzy.
But they couldn’t go back.
They couldn’t.
‘Goodnight,’ she said, and turned away. While she still had the strength to do it.
* * *
Brad couldn’t sleep. When the early-morning light poured in through the thin cotton curtains, he gave up trying, pulled on some clothes and a pair of running shoes, and went for a run to clear his head. It was early enough that the streets were mostly deserted—too early for anyone to go into the town to pick up a newspaper or a pint of milk before rushing to work. He’d forgotten how steep and narrow some of the back streets were, sloping up away from the harbour, and he’d worked up a decent sweat by the time he got back to the cottage. Which would have to be at exactly the same time that Abigail, also dressed in running gear, got back to the front door of her own cottage.
He could make this awkward.
Or he could keep it light and pretend that the kiss last night never happened.
It might be cowardly; but it might also be kinder to both of them.
‘Fancy seeing you here,’ he said.
‘Anyone would think we lived near each other,’ she said wryly. ‘Temporarily.’
‘Do you go running every morning?’ he asked, suddenly curious. She’d never really been one for sport when they’d been together, preferring to curl up with a book or listen to music. That was another area where she’d changed.
‘Yes. It clears my head and sets me up for work. Well, not that I’m at work today, but it’s a good habit.’ She looked at him. ‘You?’
‘Same.’
This was his cue to smile, say good morning, and walk inside.
But his mouth clearly wasn’t with the programme. ‘Maybe we could have lunch.’
‘Sorry. I’ve got a final dress fitting with Ruby and Izzy.’
‘Izzy?’ It wasn’t a name he knew. The dressmaker, perhaps?
‘Isabella. Colin’s niece—the other bridesmaid. She’s seven years old and very sweet.’
Ruby had probably already told him and he hadn’t been paying attention. Guilt twisted through him again.
And that was her cue to say good morning and walk away. Except her mouth clearly wasn’t with the programme, either, because she said, ‘Maybe we could grab some fish and chips tonight.’
‘And eat them on the harbour wall.’ Like tourists, or like the teenagers they’d once been. He liked that idea. ‘What time?’
‘How about seven o’clock?’
‘That’s fine. I’ll knock for you.’ He smiled. ‘Have a good day.’
‘You, too.’
* * *
At seven precisely, Brad knocked on Abigail’s front door.
‘Hi.’ She was wearing faded
jeans and a T-shirt, and no make-up.
‘How was the dress fitting?’
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘How was your day?’
‘Fine. I spent most of it with Mum.’
‘But you sneaked in some work?’ she asked.
He smiled. ‘As if you didn’t.’
‘I ticked a few things off my to-do list,’ she admitted with a grin. ‘My staff are great, but I don’t want to take unfair advantage of them and dump my responsibilities on them.’
‘Same here,’ he said. ‘I never used to understand what you meant about getting to know your team and developing them, when we were in Cambridge. I do now.’
‘So you like managing a team?’
‘As part of a project, yes. Watching their confidence grow and knowing I’ve helped that—it’s a good feeling.’ Something else they had in common, now.
They walked to the fish and chip shop and bought cod and chips, then ate them out of the cardboard box with a wooden fork while sitting on the harbour wall.
‘Remember doing this, years ago?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘And sitting on the dunes on the beach, watching the stars come out.’
‘Star light, star bright...’ And he thought, that the wish he’d make now wasn’t achievable because the past couldn’t be changed. ‘We could do that now.’
She blinked. ‘What?’
‘Go and sit on the dunes and watch the stars,’ he said.
She was silent for long enough that he thought she was going to refuse, but then she nodded. ‘OK.’
When they’d finished their meal, they walked all the way from the harbour to the dunes. They didn’t talk on the way there but it was an easy silence, not an awkward one. Especially as their hands had brushed against each other and their fingers had ended up entwined; he didn’t want to say anything to break the spell, and he guessed it was the same for her.
And he couldn’t get that kiss from last night out of his head. Had it been a mistake? Or had it been one step closer towards changing things between them? Towards making things better?
They sat on the dunes, still holding hands, just listening to the swish of the sea and watching the sky change colour; the band of deep purple at the horizon shaded up to pink, apricot and finally to blue.
‘Look, it’s the first star.’ She pointed up to it with her free hand. ‘Though I know it’s a planet, not a star, because it doesn’t twinkle. I remember you telling me that.’
He remembered that evening, too. ‘It’s Jupiter.’
She smiled. ‘Trust you to know that.’
He gave a half-shrug. ‘I don’t see the stars much in London.’ And that was one thing he missed about Great Crowmell. Out here, they were far enough away from the town for the sky not to be so affected by the light pollution. ‘Every so often, I see news reports about sightings of the Northern Lights out here.’
‘And every time I see those reports, Ruby and I gnash our teeth,’ she said. ‘We always manage to miss them, even though I get email alerts from the university about when a sighting’s possible.’
He knew that was top of her bucket list, seeing the aurora borealis. He’d always intended to take her to the Arctic Circle, the winter after he’d finished his doctorate, so she could see them. Except life had changed unimaginably before then. The winter after he’d finished his doctorate, they’d already been divorced for a long, long time.
Trying to keep things light, he pointed out some of the constellations to her.
Even though it was summer, the night was still cool; he loosened his fingers from hers and slid his arm round her. ‘Because it’s cold,’ he said. ‘And, scientifically speaking, sharing body heat is the most efficient way of keeping warm.’
It was true, on a superficial level; but he knew it wasn’t the real reason why he’d put his arm round her. He’d wanted to be close to her. And she hadn’t moved away...
Then he looked at her. Her eyes were huge and her mouth was slightly parted.
What else could he do but kiss her, here under the stars, with the sea swishing gently in the background?
When he broke the kiss, he whispered, ‘I’m sorry. For so very much.’
‘It wasn’t all you,’ she said.
He didn’t deserve this kindness, and his heart broke a little more. ‘We were young. I handled everything badly. And I’m truly sorry I hurt you so much.’
‘Apology accepted.’
He noticed that she didn’t say it was all right. Because it wasn’t all right. The past couldn’t be changed.
But the fact she’d accepted his apology meant that perhaps they could both move on instead of being stuck.
‘You have wedding stuff to do with Ruby tomorrow,’ he said. ‘We’d better head back.’
He resisted the urge to kiss her again. Though, when he offered her his hand to help her to her feet, he didn’t let her hand go until they were outside the row of cottages.
It would be oh, so easy to ask her to come in. To stay with him tonight.
But that wouldn’t be fair. He couldn’t offer her a future. And he’d let her down before.
Instead, he brushed his mouth against hers. Lightly. Not demanding. ‘Goodnight, Abby. Sleep well.’
And he unlocked his door and went inside before he did anything stupid—like picking her up and carrying her over the threshold.
* * *
Abby let herself indoors and curled up on the sofa.
That kiss yesterday had blown all her defences wide apart.
And tonight, eating fish and chips with him on the harbour wall and then going to the dunes to watch the stars come out—it was like reliving the best bits of their teenage courtship.
The worst thing was, she realised she was more than halfway to falling in love with Brad all over again. If she’d ever actually fallen out of love with him. Which she was really beginning to doubt.
She needed to get herself under control. He wasn’t going to stay here, and this was where she belonged. They couldn’t have a future together. Their lives had gone off at tangents from each other, and there was no way they could compromise.
At least she’d be busy for the next couple of days with Ruby, too busy to spend any time with Brad. She’d keep herself under rigid control at the wedding, making sure she was polite but keeping a distance between them. And then, after the wedding, he’d leave again—and she would have time to bring herself properly back to her senses.
CHAPTER FIVE
SATURDAY DAWNED BRIGHT and sunny: perfect weather for a wedding.
As the stand-in for the father of the bride, officially Brad didn’t have anything much to do before the wedding apart from getting dressed and then accompanying Ruby to the church. But he knew exactly what James Powell would’ve done. He would’ve shooed his wife out of the kitchen and told Rosie to get ready with the girls, and he would’ve been the one dispensing cups of tea and terrible jokes and lots of hearty laughter.
Well, Brad could do that. Maybe not the hearty laughter and terrible jokes, because he wasn’t a showman like his father had been; but he could do tea and calmness.
Colin was staying overnight with his brother Richard, mindful of all the old wives’ tales about not seeing the bride on the morning of the wedding until she walked down the aisle. Brad and Abigail had got dressed together; maybe that had been one of the first in a long line of mistakes. Along with not having something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue, he thought.
He shook himself. Today wasn’t about himself and Abby—or the fact that she’d managed to avoid him ever since the night they’d sat and watched the stars come out and kissed each other. They’d be polite and civil to each other today, and maybe they could talk tomorrow.
He made mugs of tea for his mother, sister, Abby and Isabella’s mother Sadie, and added a glass of milk for Isabella, then took the tray upstairs and knocked on Ruby’s door. ‘I’m leaving a tray of tea outside,’ he said. ‘By the way, the wedding flowers are he
re and they all look perfect. And there was an extra delivery for you, Ruby.’
A single deep red rose, with a message from Colin—no doubt telling her how much he loved her and how he was looking forward to marrying her later that day. Yeah. Brad remembered that feeling. How excited he’d been, hardly able to wait for the rest of his life to start—his new life as Abby’s husband.
Older, wiser, he reminded himself. And divorced.
He dispensed bacon rolls—a hummus and falafel wrap, in his sister’s case—mid-morning; and dispensed more tea when the hairdresser and make-up artist arrived.
And then finally it was time to head for the church.
Ruby emerged in a gorgeous strapless lacy gown, her hair in an updo and a tiara securing her veil. Brad had a lump in his throat as he looked at her. ‘You look amazing. Dad would’ve been so proud of you.’ He hugged her, careful not to crease her dress or spoil her make-up. ‘You look fabulous, too, Mum.’
‘Thank you,’ Ruby and Rosie chorused.
‘And you, Isabella. You look very pretty.’
But the one who really made his jaw drop was Abby. She looked stunning in a deep red dress with a V-neck and tiny shoulder straps; it was fitted at the waist and fell to the floor. And he knew every curve under that dress, knew every inch of skin. The memory practically poleaxed him.
What did he say to her?
His throat dried.
Polite and civil. That was what they’d agreed. He didn’t dare meet her eye, and he drew on every reserve he had to make sure he didn’t give a keynote speech worthy of a conference. ‘You look very nice, too, Abigail.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, her tone equally polite and civil.
Had she guessed at how much his thoughts were churning? He hoped not. ‘The cars are here,’ he said.
He made sure that his mother, Abigail, Isabella and Sadie were all comfortably seated, then helped Ruby into their own car.
‘Thank you,’ Ruby said when he’d closed the door. ‘You and Abby—I have to admit, I did worry a bit. Especially as she’s been very quiet about you.’
