Reunited at the Altar

by Kate Hardy

  She nodded. ‘I understand. I was too young to deal with it, too.’ And she needed to be fair about this. He wasn’t the only one to blame. ‘We both made mistakes. I hurt you, too.’ She’d left him when he was vulnerable and in pain and totally unable to deal with his feelings, when she should’ve tried harder to support him. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Apology accepted.’ He stopped and spun her round to face him, then kissed her.

  His mouth was soft and so very sweet, and it sent a shiver of pure desire through her.

  ‘Enough of the past. Today’s all about you and me discovering a bit more about who each other is now,’ he said. ‘Let’s have some fun.’

  He climbed easily into the boat and helped her in beside him, then slid his arm protectively round her when they sat down. The captain took the boat out to the narrow strip of land at Blakeney Point, where everyone could see the seals basking on the sand. Some were lumbering along in an ungainly fashion; others were just sunning themselves. There were a few groups of a cow, a bull and a pup; Abigail knew that the pups on the land with their mothers were less than three weeks old, still needing to be fed.

  Around the boat, seals were gliding through the water, looking far more elegant than they did on land and totally at ease; others were frolicking in the shallows, splashing their flippers in the water. It was utterly charming and Abigail lost herself in the moment, enjoying the sight.

  ‘Smile for the camera,’ Brad said, and took a snap of her on his phone with the seals in the background. She smiled at him and took a shot of him on her phone, too. Today was a good day. One to make memories.

  ‘Would you like me to take your photograph together?’ a middle-aged woman sitting near them asked.

  ‘Thanks, that’d be lovely,’ Brad said, and handed over his phone.

  ‘Are you on honeymoon?’ she asked as she took the photograph. ‘You look like newlyweds.’

  Abigail had no idea how to answer. The truth was much too complicated.

  Brad simply smiled and said, ‘Something like that. It’s a lovely part of the world,’ as if neither of them had ever been here before.

  ‘Well, I wish you both every happiness,’ the woman said, and handed his phone back.

  ‘Thank you,’ Brad said.

  ‘Yes—thank you,’ Abigail added with a smile.

  Once they were back at the harbour, they climbed out of the boat and walked hand in hand back to his car.

  ‘OK?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. It was lovely. I’d forgotten how gorgeous the seal pups are,’ she said. ‘And those big eyes.’ Dark and expressive and utterly captivating.

  Though she could’ve been talking about Brad.

  ‘Sea legs holding up?’

  ‘They’re pretty much propped up by the sickness tablets,’ she admitted. ‘But I’m OK. You?’

  His hand tightened round hers. ‘Good company and the perfect view. I’d forgotten how lovely the seals are, too.’ He paused. ‘Shall we go for a drive and find a pub somewhere for lunch?’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  Though Abigail couldn’t shake what the woman had said about them looking like honeymooners.

  This felt almost like a honeymoon. Not that theirs had been a conventional one: after Gretna Green, they’d done the coast-to-coast walk to raise money for the local lifeboat service and stayed in little guest houses along the way. They hadn’t been able to afford an expensive holiday abroad when Brad was a student, though they’d pooled their birthday and Christmas money and managed a couple of nights in Paris. His dream of trekking through the Australian outback and hers of seeing the Northern Lights had been completely out of range of their budget. But they’d enjoyed snatched days out, visiting museums and booking train tickets well in advance to keep costs to a minimum.

  There had been good times. Plenty of good times. It hadn’t mattered that they didn’t have much money. The only thing that had mattered was being together. Just like they were now; they didn’t have to fill every moment with chattering. That hadn’t changed over the years, and she was glad that they could still find an easy silence between them.

  And it was easy for lunch out to stretch into pottering around antique shops in one of the Georgian market towns, and then afternoon tea, and then strolling along the beach and watching the stars come out.

  Outside her front door, he said, ‘I can’t quite bear to let you go yet. Come and sit with me for a bit?’

  But curling up together on the sofa led to kissing. Which led to him taking her back upstairs to the king-sized bed and making love with her; and then she was too comfortable to move.

  ‘Stay with me tonight,’ he said, wrapping his arms round her.

  Common sense meant she ought to go. ‘I have work tomorrow. And you’ve got to pack and be out of the cottage by eleven,’ she pointed out.

  ‘It won’t take me long to pack,’ he said. ‘And I’ll be leaving early. I have things to do in the lab.’

  Back to the real world. Where no doubt Brad would think about this weekend and realise that this was all a pretty fantasy, but it couldn’t work in real life. The logistics were impossible.

  ‘But I’ll be back. Give me a few days to sort things out,’ he said. ‘I need to make sure the project’s still on track, and then I can call in a few favours and take a few days off.’

  Maybe he would. Maybe he wouldn’t. He’d been away for a week already; what if there had been some real developments on his project while he was away that meant he had to stay in London? What if he couldn’t use his leave because some of his team had already booked holiday and that would mean the lab was short-staffed?

  Her worries must’ve shown on her face because he kissed her gently. ‘Stop overthinking things, Abby.’

  ‘Habit,’ she said.

  ‘Tonight, let tomorrow take care of itself,’ he said. ‘Go to sleep.’

  She didn’t think she’d sleep, but eventually the warmth of his arms around her did the trick and she drifted off.

  The next morning, he woke her with a tray of coffee and toast.

  ‘Breakfast in bed?’

  ‘Time to wake up. It’s an hour and a half after sunrise,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘At this time of year, that means it’s still really early,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Early enough for you to have time for your run before work.’ He kissed her and climbed back into bed beside her. ‘So. I’ll leave by seven, which means I’ll be back in London at around ten. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve sorted out some time off. I’ll book a room in a hotel.’

  ‘So you’re not staying with your mum?’

  ‘No. Though, this time, it isn’t because I can’t face the memories. Now I’ve been back to the house—and, thanks to you making me talk—I know I can. This time, it’s about you and me,’ he said, ‘and we’re keeping it simple. Staying at my mum’s would mean that she’d ask too many questions.’

  Abigail sipped her coffee. ‘I guess the simplest thing would be to ask you to stay at my place.’

  He shook his head. ‘I wasn’t fishing. And, actually, staying with you would complicate things.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I think we both need our own space while we work out what’s happening between us and what we want to do about it,’ he said. ‘I’m going to stay at Little Crowmell rather than here, if I can.’

  Where the staff would be less likely to know him and less likely to be curious. ‘OK. Well, let me know.’

  ‘I will.’

  When they’d finished breakfast, he kissed her goodbye. ‘Thank you for giving me a second chance,’ he said. ‘I don’t intend to let you down again.’

  But there was a wide, wide gap between good intentions and what actually happened, she thought. They could start again. But what if they hit a rocky patch? Could she be sure that he wouldn’t close himself off again?

  ‘Uh-huh,’ she said, not wanting to start a fight.

  ‘I’ll call you,’ he said. ‘Enjoy your r
un and have a nice day.’

  ‘Safe travels,’ she said. ‘And I hope you don’t get stuck in a traffic jam.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  When Abigail came back from her morning run, she saw that his car had gone.

  And how ridiculous was it that she felt so flat?

  She needed to prepare herself for the fact that Brad might get back to real life in London and change his mind. That in a few days she’d have a cool, apologetic text from him saying sorry, he’d realised that it wasn’t going to work and it was best to keep things formal and polite between them.

  But in the meantime she had work to do. A business to run. So she’d concentrate on that.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ABIGAIL THREW HERSELF into work to keep herself occupied and stop herself checking her phone constantly during the day. Brad didn’t text to let her know he’d got back to London safely; then again, she thought, he was probably doing pretty much the same thing as she was. Plus he’d been away from the lab for longer than she’d been away from the café, even if he had been in touch with his team by phone. He’d be too busy to think about anything else but his job.

  She finally picked up a text from him that evening, just as she finished locking the café behind her.

  Hope you’ve had a good day. Can I video-call you later?

  So was this it? Had he had time to think about it and change his mind? If so, at least he was going to tell her sort of face to face.

  Sure. What time?

  She didn’t get an answer until she was back at her cottage.

  Let me know when’s a good time.

  So the ball was in her court. I’m home now.

  To her surprise, a few seconds later, her phone buzzed with a video call.

  ‘Hey.’

  She narrowed her eyes as she noticed the background. Unless Brad had turned his home into a lab... ‘Are you still at work?’

  ‘Um, yes,’ he admitted.

  ‘Brad, it’s gone eight o’clock.’

  ‘I know, I know. But I started late.’ He smiled at her. ‘How was your day?’

  ‘Busy but good. Yours?’

  ‘The same. I’m calling in a few favours, and I’m taking ten days off from next Monday evening.’

  So he really meant it. He was actually coming back to Great Crowmell, to spend time with her and see whether they still had something between them. And she was shocked to realise how relieved that made her feel. ‘OK,’ she said, hoping that both her voice and expression were light and cheerful and didn’t betray her feelings too much.

  ‘I’d better let you get on,’ he said.

  Which was Brad-speak for I’m busy but I don’t want to be rude to you, she remembered. ‘Don’t spend all night in the lab.’

  To Abigail’s surprise, Brad contacted her every day during the week; sometimes it was just a brief text, sometimes it was a phone call, and sometimes it was a video call. But every day she knew he was thinking about her, and that made her feel good.

  On Thursday morning, a parcel arrived for her at the café. She opened it to discover a paperweight in the shape of an ice cream, together with a message in Brad’s neat handwriting.

  Just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you.

  She knew he’d be busy in the lab, so she didn’t want to disturb him with a phone call; instead she texted him a picture of the paperweight on her desk, so he could pick up the message at a time to suit him.

  Thank you. It’s brilliant. And very useful.

  And what was sauce for the goose...

  She wasn’t set up to do mail order cakes, but she knew a good local supplier. And they’d just released a new flavour of sponge cake: sticky toffee pudding. Brad’s all-time favourite dessert, unless that had changed—and somehow she didn’t think it had. It took only a couple of minutes to order one to be delivered to him the next morning, together with a message.

  Don’t stay too late in the lab tonight.

  Much later in the day, her phone pinged with a text in reply to her photograph.

  My pleasure. Flowers would’ve been more conventional but would also have meant gossip, so I thought you’d prefer the paperweight.

  He had a point.

  And he actually called her in the middle of the day on Friday. ‘I just got your delivery. Thank you. Is this the next step in your empire?’

  Abigail laughed. ‘No. But it’s a local firm and Ruby’s office uses them,’ she said, ‘so I’ve tried four different varieties. I nearly sent the apple crumble one—it’s gorgeous with lots of cinnamon—but then I saw the sticky toffee pudding and I was pretty sure you’d like it.’

  ‘It’s fabulous. My team says to thank you, too.’

  ‘My pleasure. Don’t work too late.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’ But she could hear the laughter in his voice. ‘Speak to you soon.’

  And did she actually hear him mutter ‘love you’, just before he disconnected the call, or was that just what she’d wanted to hear so her ears were playing tricks on her?

  She didn’t have the courage to ask him. But there was definitely an easy affection between them again. A warmth that hadn’t been there for a long time—a warmth she’d missed. She liked the man he’d become, and she rather hoped he liked who she’d become, too.

  Abigail was run off her feet over the weekend, and was pretty sure that Brad was just as busy in his lab; but then on Monday evening, when she left the café, she picked up a text from him.

  Leaving now.

  The message was timed an hour ago, so he was already on the way.

  Staying at the Bay Tree Hotel in Little Crowmell.

  The hotel was attached to a golf course and had a spa; her stomach tightened for a second as she remembered the last time she and Brad had stayed in a hotel with a spa. The weekend away she’d won in a competition. The weekend when everything had gone wrong, and their life together had unravelled faster than she’d ever believed could happen.

  She shook herself. Five years. Older and wiser, she reminded herself. They were different people now, and these were different circumstances.

  Meet me in the bar for a drink at about nine?

  Just the two of them. The start of something that might or might not work out.

  But that was the whole point of this time together. To see what they might still have—and whether it was worth the possible upheaval. Because, if they were to have a future together, they’d have to find some kind of compromise about where they lived.

  See you at nine, she texted back. She knew he wouldn’t get the message while he was driving, but he’d maybe pick it up if he stopped for a break, or when he got to the hotel.

  She changed into a pretty top and smart black trousers, and called a taxi to take her to the hotel for nine; it meant she could have a glass of wine with Brad without worrying about being over the limit for driving home. And how strange that she felt like a teenager about to go on her first date with a boy she’d secretly liked for months. Second time round, shouldn’t it all be calm and collected and adult? But she could hardly wait to see him. Just like the years when they really had been teenagers, sneaking time together between their studies.

  There was a group of businessmen in the bar, all wearing lanyards; clearly they’d been at some sort of conference in the hotel and were letting off some steam after a hard day’s work, judging by the amount of hearty laughter and empty glasses at their table. There was no sign of Brad. Maybe he was still in his room.

  Abigail went over to the reception desk. ‘Excuse me, please. I’m meant to be meeting Bradley Powell here. I wondered if you could call his room for me, please?’

  The receptionist checked her computer. ‘Sorry, he hasn’t checked in yet.’

  He’d probably been held up in traffic, Abigail thought. ‘When he does check in, could you let him know that Abigail Scott is waiting for him in the bar, please?’

  ‘Of course,’ the receptionist said with a smile.

  Feeling slightly awkward, Abigai
l ordered an orange juice at the bar, and tried to find herself a quiet corner. She was playing a word game on her phone to keep herself busy while she waited, when one of the businessmen came over to her, holding an almost empty pint glass.

  ‘On your own, sweetheart?’ he asked.

  ‘No, I’m waiting for someone,’ she said.

  ‘Well, you can have a drink with me while you’re waiting.’

  He sounded slightly drunk, slurring his words, and Abigail sighed inwardly. She was used to dealing with difficult customers over the years, so she knew how to keep the situation from escalating. She kept her voice calm and anodyne. ‘It’s very kind of you to offer, but no, thank you.’

  ‘But a girl as pretty as you needs company.’

  She forbore from correcting him that she was a woman, not a girl, and suppressed her irritation. It looked as if she was going to have to take the cracked record approach. ‘It’s very kind of you to offer, but no, thank you,’ she repeated firmly.

  ‘Go on, sweetheart. What’s the harm in it?’ He swayed towards her.

  ‘No, thank you,’ she said yet again.

  ‘It’s only a little drink, sweetheart. Come and join me and the boys. We could do wi—’

  ‘I said no, thank you,’ she cut in. ‘Now, would you please leave me alone?’

  ‘You don’t mean that, sweetheart.’ He looked her up and down. ‘Or maybe just you and me, then, not the boys.’

  Abigail had had enough. She stood up and was at the point of walking over to the bartender and asking him to deal with the man when Brad walked over to her.

  ‘Sorry I’m late, darling. Reception told me you were waiting in here for me.’ He greeted her with a kiss. ‘Traffic was horrible and my phone decided not to work, so I couldn’t call you and warn you how late I’d be, and...’ He looked at the man who’d been trying to chat her up, and suddenly seemed to be six inches taller and broader. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met,’ he said politely, though his voice contained a hint of steel. ‘Are you a friend of my wife’s, or maybe one of her business associates?’

  ‘I... Sorry.’ The man raised his free hand in surrender and backed away as if he’d been scalded. ‘No offence, darlin’. I didn’t know. I didn’t mean anything.’ And, to Abigail’s relief, he stumbled off back to his colleagues.