Sophie had been mildly shocked. She had forgotten that little old ladies were once young women, and she supposed that just because she would one day be old, it wouldn’t mean she would suddenly stop thinking or feeling the way she did now.
Over the last six months, though, she had gotten to know the eighty-nine-year-old well, and now nothing Mrs. Tregowan said could shock her anymore. Grace had had a colorful life to say the least, a life full of lovers, danger, and husbands, four of them. So perhaps it was because of that passion-filled life that Grace was so content to finish her days in the Avalon guest house watching TV while her motley collection of cash-grabbing relatives who never bothered to visit or even call clamored desperately for their inheritance. Grace had told Sophie in one of their very first conversations that she was now mainly staying alive just to annoy them.
“What do you think of my outfit?” Sophie said, walking into the sitting room. She twirled in a soft pink beaded chiffon dress with a dropped waist and a fringe of beads all around the bottom. She’d been wearing it the first night she met Louis.
“You look lovely, darling,” Grace said, looking Sophie up and down. “I had a dress similar to that, you know, before the war. If I recall correctly, 1938—I was living in Paris, in Montparnasse with this painter Jacques Bellaconti, lovely man, but so serious. He was a Communist—never yet met a Communist with a sense of humor. Still …” Grace trailed off for a second and Sophie got the distinct impression that the old lady was fondly remembering a past love. “Anyway, I had a dress just like that, only I was as thin as a whip— there was nothing to me. That was the way they liked it back then. That was the way Jacques liked it anyway, and he always preferred me with my clothes off. I expect your young man’s the same.”
Sophie blinked and caught her reflection in Mrs. Alexander’s gilt-framed mirror.
“He does rather, but given that we’re going out for dinner, do you think this will do? This is our first proper date in …well, since I came down here really.”
Grace smiled at Sophie, her blue eyes still bright and clear. “You look lovely, darling. So much better than when you first arrived, with all those dark shadows and anxious looks. The sea air must agree with you, and of course …sex is a marvelous restorative tonic.”
“That must be it,” Sophie said as Grace’s attention drifted back to the TV. Sophie went to the window, and after some riffling through Mrs. Alexander’s various layers of lace curtains, she tweaked back enough diaphanous material to be able to see out. It was dark outside and Sophie felt the skin on her arms prickle with goose bumps as she imagined the chill of the night air cutting through the thin material of her dress. There was something else too, prickling at the back of her neck.
It was fear. Sophie realized that she was having first-date jitters. She hadn’t felt this tense and high on adrenaline since that day she’d turned up at Louis’s house and told him she wanted to be with him. Everything that had happened since had been something of a roller coaster and she had been speeding along up every incline and down every descent, caught up in the euphoria of love. They talked, of course, but never really about anything, never about their pasts, their fears or dreams, and much of the time the girls were there, twin suns for their conversation and attention to revolve around. And obviously they had fabulous sex, but they had never been alone together in this way. There was something frighteningly formal about the two of them going on a date even if it was just Louis’s way of buttering her up to tell her he was going away surfing. What if they didn’t have anything to say once they were dressed up and staring at each other over a flower arrangement and a tea light? What if, when it came to it, their relationship was based entirely on their shared love for the girls and really excellent sex?
Soon she would seriously have to start thinking about what she was doing. She’d have to start planning again. In another six months her savings would run out, and if she was going to stay in Cornwall, she’d need to think about finding a way to earn money down here. Soon the short-term lease on her flat in London would come to an end and she’d need to decide whether to rent it out again or even put it on the market. Soon the demands of daily life would come crashing in and she’d need to know if the life she was leading now could be permanent or if it was just a castle of dreams that could be blown away at any moment by a passing gust of reality. But not yet, Sophie told herself as she watched the path. Not quite yet.
When the B & B security lights blinked on, they revealed that Louis was wearing a suit, causing Sophie to think two things. First, that her boyfriend looked really good in a suit and second, that she hadn’t even known he owned one.
“Well,” Louis said, looking around him at the chic modern interior of Alba as the waiter poured their wine. “This is nice.”
They had been given the best table in the house, on the first floor, in front of the floor-to-ceiling plate-glass window that looked out over the harbor and across the sea. It was dark and blustery outside, of course, but somehow even through the insulated glass Sophie could hear and sense the movement of the ocean only a few feet away, and all that fathomless power churning just on the other side of the centimeter-thick glass made her feel a little as if she were perched on the uppermost arc of a roller coaster that was about to plummet. Or perhaps it was something else that was giving her that feeling; she decided not to dwell on it.
“Yes, this is nice,” Sophie said, picking up her glass and sipping as she looked out the window. For a second she stared at her ghostly reflection, a pale imitation of herself in the glass, and then looked away. She appeared very tense for a woman on a date.
The pair of them examined the menus in silence as Sophie listened to the noise of other people’s conversations. It seemed as if the whole of St. Ives was on a date tonight and they all had something hilarious and fascinating to say.
Say something, Sophie urged herself. Go on, say something witty and charming and romantic that will make him smile and look at you through his lashes like he does when he’s thinking about how to get you naked.
“Mrs. Tregowan says that sex is a tonic,” Sophie blurted out, seemingly at exactly the same moment that everybody else in the busy restaurant took a break from talking.
Louis looked at his menu for one beat more and then glanced up at her. “No wonder I’m so fit then,” he said. Sophie could tell he was trying not to smile, which made her want to smile.
“Sorry,” Sophie said, lowering her voice as she leaned toward him. “I was trying to think of something witty and flirty to say and that’s what came out.”
The two of them sat there watching each other over the tops of the menus for a moment longer.
He should say something now, Sophie thought as she looked into his black eyes. It’s his turn.
But Louis didn’t say anything, he just watched her face closely, as if he were trying to decipher something that lay somewhere in her eyes. Finally Sophie broke the moment by glancing down at her menu. When she looked back up, she saw that Louis was staring intently at the menu, but she was almost certain that he wasn’t really reading it. What was he thinking? Surely breaking the news of a lads’ holiday to her could not be this intimidating, unless …unless.
“Are you okay?” Sophie asked him despite Cal having reliably informed her that this was the second-worst-possible question to ever ask a reticent man, beaten only by, “What are you thinking?”
Louis looked up quickly, as if she’d startled him, his skin flushing red across the bridge of his nose.
“It’s just, you look a bit tense,” Sophie prompted, deciding she couldn’t bear the tension for much longer.
“Do I?” Louis said, polishing off his glass of wine in three long gulps and then topping it up before the wine waiter could get near. “That’s funny, because I’m not tense at all. I’m really, really happy.” He leaned over the table and picked up her hand. “Actually, the thing is, I’m the happiest I have ever been in my whole life and it’s all because of you. I really love
you, Sophie. I hope you realize that. I hope you know that I love you and that I am committed one hundred percent to making this work between us. I know that I haven’t been the most …mature man in the past. I know I walked out on my children because I couldn’t handle Carrie’s affair. I know that I rushed into marrying Carrie because I didn’t really know what I wanted or needed back then. But I don’t regret it. I don’t regret anything because I’d never regret having known Carrie or having my two beautiful daughters in my life. And now I have you too …or at least I hope I have you. Look, I want to ask you something, and I was actually going to wait until dessert, but it seems that I can’t behave like a normal person until I’ve actually said the words, so here goes—”
“Louis,” Sophie said, panicking. Suddenly she wanted very much for Carmen to be right. She wanted the conversation they were about to have to be about a surfing holiday. “Look, relax. This is not as big a deal as you think it is …”
“What isn’t?” Louis asked her uncertainly.
“Carmen told me what you were going to ask,” Sophie said, pressing on, still hopeful that she could somehow wrangle this moment into the one she was prepared for and go on to enjoy two fish courses and then Alba’s sticky toffee pudding, which was famous for miles around, without having to have made a decision that was any more life changing than whether to have clotted cream or ice cream to accompany it.
“Carmen told you?” Louis looked horrified. “I can’t believe she’d do that!”
“Well, you know Carmen,” Sophie said breezily, her anxiety exacerbated by how dismayed Louis was. “She can’t keep a secret, and anyway …it’s fine. I don’t mind at all. I’m not in the least bit bothered.”
“You’re not bothered?” Louis’s face froze and Sophie plowed on, sure she could somehow blunder her way out of this.
“No, of course I’m not. I know that what you want to ask me might seem a bit nervy after our being together officially for only six months, but we’re both adults—we can take it!” She grinned at him. “So come on, out with it then. Ask me!”
“I’m not sure I want to now,” Louis said, his ruddy face now blanched of color.
“Oh, don’t be so silly!” Sophie said carefully. “I know what you want to ask me, and I’m totally relaxed about it. Fully chilled out and calm.”
“ ‘Fully chilled out and calm,’ ” Louis repeated, topping up his wine again. “I don’t really know how I feel about that.”
“Well, what did you want me to be like?” Sophie asked, a thin edge of hysteria sharpening her tone. “All stressy and clingy and needy and freaked out, acting like a headless chicken caught in the headlights? I’m not like that. I’m not that kind of girlfriend. I can totally handle it. I mean, look at me.”
Louis looked stricken as he chewed on his lip. “I am, and you look a bit like you’d rather be anywhere else than here right now,” he said slowly.
“Fine, don’t ask me,” Sophie said, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. “In fact, let’s not talk about this now, let’s just have dinner and forget about it, shall we?”
“No,” Louis said, looking adamant. “I made arrangements and got prepared and took my suit to the dry cleaner’s …I mean, I still want to …it’s just that this isn’t how I pictured it going …”
“Okay, let’s sort this out right now,” Sophie said, as if she were chairing a board meeting back in London. “Let’s cut to the chase and then maybe we can order some food, because I’m starving. You don’t have to ask me because the answer is yes, okay?” Sophie smiled at a shocked Louis. “Yes, yes, yes. I’m totally fine with it. I’m more than fine, I’m happy. So it’s a yes to the question you were going to ask me. Now can we move on?”
“Yes?” Louis’s expression was caught halfway between confusion and a smile. “I mean, that’s great, but this is a bit weird. This isn’t at all how I thought I would feel when you said yes.”
“How did you think you’d feel?” Sophie asked him, a touch impatiently, shaking her head.
“I thought there’d be crying and surprise and joy and …hugging,” Louis said.
“Louis, all you’re doing is asking me to look after the girls and Tango and Artemis while you go on a lads’ surfing holiday to Hawaii!” Sophie exclaimed so loudly that more than a few pairs of eyes swiveled in her direction. “That’s all you’re asking me, isn’t it? That’s what Carmen said. So why would I cry?”
“What?” Louis’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “That’s what Carmen told you?”
“Yes!” Sophie said desperately. “Now can we please move on? I think the kitchen closes at ten!”
“Er, yes, you see—that’s not exactly the question I wanted to ask you,” Louis said, catching Sophie’s gaze and holding it until her racing heart gradually began to slow and she found that she couldn’t look away. “That might be what Carmen told you and that might be what you think you’d rather hear, but I think that you and I both know that isn’t the question I am going to ask you.”
“It’s not?” Sophie’s voice trembled.
“It’s not, and I’ve never seen a more terrified and panic-stricken woman in my life, but I’m getting to know you and I know that sometimes you need to feel the fear and do it anyway—so here goes.” Louis stood up and patted his pockets before producing a small dark blue leather box, opening it to reveal a diamond ring nestled in midnight blue velvet.
Sophie leaned back as far in her chair as its rigid back would allow and felt her heart cease to beat as he dropped to one knee in front of her.
“Sophie Mills,” Louis said, commanding the attention of the whole restaurant. “I love you and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Please will you marry me?”
About fifty people held their breath as Sophie looked first at Louis and then at the ring. She knew she had to say something, that now was the appropriate time to say something, but for what seemed like an eternity nothing would come out, not even an exhalation of breath.
“Um, right,” Louis said, looking around at the other diners. “You might not like the ring, and if you don’t, we can change it. Only I thought you would. It’s from the 1930s and it’s a Deco platinum setting. It’s not huge, it’s a half carat, but it’s good quality and it took me ages to choose it. I thought it was classy and stylish and timeless and …silent—like you. Say something, Soph, my knee’s gone numb and everyone’s looking at us.”
Abruptly Sophie felt her heart start to beat again and a rush of blood to her cheeks. She exhaled, and when she took another breath, she felt tears brimming in her eyes.
“Oh, Louis,” she said, her voice husky and taut.
“What?” Louis asked her with a hopeful smile. “Is there going to be tears and joy and hugging, or just tears? Still feeling calm and chilled?”
“Not exactly,” Sophie half-sobbed and half-laughed. “You’ve frightened me nearly to death!”
“Not the textbook response when it comes to proposals,” Louis said, smiling. “But it beats the dumbstruck horror I was getting.”
Sophie laughed and took Louis’s hand, hauling him to his feet so they were standing opposite each other.
“I feel frightened and nervous and a bit sick and quite giddy,” Sophie said. “And a lot like a huge semipsychotic idiot. Are you sure you want to marry me?”
“Despite your rather casual acquaintance with sanity, I still want you to be my wife, Sophie,” Louis told her, his voice low and serious. “So? Do you want to marry me?”
Sophie nodded her head. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I think I do.”
Sophie sat bolt upright in bed, her heart pounding. It took a while for her eyes to adjust to the half-light and she took a couple of deep breaths as she waited for whatever dream had woken her, frightened and full of panic, to fade away. And then she realized. It wasn’t a dream. Louis had actually asked her to marry him and she had said yes. She’d made a decision about the rest of her life. She’d said yes.
“Morning,”
Louis mumbled sleepily. Sophie felt his finger drift up her bare back and gently wind a hank of her hair around his wrist, tugging her back down onto the bed. After several attempts and one incident that could have sent the pair of them to the emergency room with an awful lot of explaining to do, they’d given up on sleeping in the twin beds, which they’d pushed together, and had ended curled up tightly together in a single instead. Exactly as they had done on the very first night they’d slept together, Sophie remembered. The night after they’d brought the girls back to St. Ives for the first time since they’d lost their mother here. It had been a difficult and dark day, a day full of pain and breakthroughs and some joy. It had been the day when Sophie had finally said good-bye to her old friend, the day she really believed Carrie was dead. That night her jumble of attraction, anger, mistrust, and longing for Louis had boiled over and she’d gone to bed with him, uncertain of what it meant or where it would lead, because for at least a few hours she hadn’t cared as long as he had his arms around her. The next morning she had woken with her heart pounding, just as she had this morning. She’d run away from him and the girls and she’d tried her best to go back to her normal life as if none of this had happened. She’d tried and she’d failed. Now on this second and so different morning in a single bed with Louis, Sophie recalled all the angst and anxiety, the guilt she’d been plagued with that night, wondering if any trace of it tainted this morning, but there was nothing, so why was her heart beating like a drum?
She had never been happier, more filled to the brim with joy, and yet at exactly the same moment she had never been more afraid.
Louis reached across her and picked up her left hand, looking at the ring that glinted faintly on her finger in the morning light.
“I always thought I liked you best when you were totally naked, but now I realize I like you to leave a little something on.” He brought the ring, and her hand, to his lips and kissed it. “Don’t ever take this off.”
The Accidental Family Page 4
