by Heidi Swain
‘I’d like that,’ I smiled back.
I was really falling for this guy and I hoped that whatever it was he was gearing up to tell me wasn’t going to send me crashing back down to earth with a bump. I rather liked the feeling of walking on air.
‘What is it?’ he asked, his smile turning into a frown.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You looked so happy a second ago,’ he said, taking in my expression, ‘but then your face changed and now you look sad.’
‘I’m worried about what you’re going to tell me,’ I said, meeting his gaze.
We’d spent so long not saying the things that we should that I didn’t want to waste more time hiding our feelings or pretending that everything was fine when it wasn’t.
‘I thought you might be,’ he sighed. ‘I shouldn’t have mentioned it earlier. I knew you were going to fret over it as soon as I’d said it. Come on,’ he said, taking my plate, ‘I’ll put this lot in the kitchen and then I’ll tell you.’
I sat and faced him, my legs drawn up beneath me and my damp hair free from the band I had tied it back with while I was eating. The weight of it fell around my face and I pushed it behind my ears. I could feel it was already curling out of all control, but that was nothing new.
‘I wasn’t going to tell you any of this,’ Finn eventually began, ‘but after what you did and said last night, and what happened after you’d done it, I was more aware than ever that I’m really falling for you, Freya and in order to do that properly, there’s something I need to share with you, even though it pains me to do it.’
‘Okay,’ I whispered.
‘And Zak said I should too.’
‘Zak?’
‘I know,’ he said, looking at me and shaking his head. ‘Who would have thought my pain in the arse half-brother could actually turn over a new leaf and offer words of wisdom?’
‘Words of wisdom?’
‘Well,’ Finn conceded, ‘perhaps not wisdom, but some plainly spoken home truths.’
We both smiled and I felt some of the tension which had been building ebb away.
‘He said that I owed it to you to explain why I thought the worst of you when I assumed you had jilted someone at the altar.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘that doesn’t really need explaining. Jilting someone at the altar would be a pretty shitty thing to do.’
‘Oh, I know it’s a pretty shitty thing to do,’ he said with a rueful smile.
‘How?’ I quietly asked, even though his words practically guaranteed I’d guessed.
‘Because I was the sad sod waiting for the bride who’d had a change of heart but not quite mustered the courage to tell me before I was standing in front of family and friends on a distant sun-drenched beach.’
Yep, that was exactly what I’d just worked out that he was going to say. Apart from the beach bit. I didn’t have Finn down as a sunshine wedding type at all.
‘Oh, Finn,’ I breathed, trying not to picture his heartbreak and humiliation.
‘No wonder I have trust issues, right?’ he said gruffly.
‘Especially,’ I sighed, ‘when a girl comes along who you like, but who you think has done the very same thing to someone else as you’ve had done to you, yes?’
‘That’s about the size of it,’ he said, lacing his fingers together and biting his lip. ‘I’m sorry I jumped to that conclusion, Freya.’
‘It’s okay,’ I told him, because I could hardly hold it against him when what I said in the pub had made it sound very much like that was what I had done. ‘And please don’t feel obliged to say any more about what happened to you.’
‘But I want to,’ he insisted. ‘I want you to know everything. I think it’s important that you do.’
He then proceeded to explain how he’d met this girl and started a relationship with her while building an extension on the property she was living at.
‘She told me the guy who owned the place was her uncle. I only met him once and given his age that was totally believable, but after she left me at the altar, I discovered that he had been her partner. It turned out she’d had a few older men in her life.’
‘Did no one guess about their relationship while you were doing the building work?’
‘No,’ he shrugged. ‘We were there to build an extension, not get to know the ins and outs of the personal dynamics of the client. Besides, the bloke was never around when we were and Erica never did or said anything to arouse any suspicion.’
‘But she must have loved you,’ I pointed out, only defending her to save Finn’s feelings, ‘otherwise she wouldn’t have agreed to marry you, would she?’
‘Oh, she didn’t want me,’ Finn laughed.
‘Then why… ?’
‘She thought I was going to inherit Dad’s business,’ he cut in. ‘She’d been looking at the family portfolio and assumed I was going to receive a secure and wealthy future.’
‘So, if you knew that, why did you want to marry her?’
‘I didn’t know she’d set her sights on the family fortune until after she disappeared.’
‘I see,’ I swallowed. ‘Had you not told her about your ambition to become a full-time artist?’
‘I had,’ he nodded, ‘but Erica only listened to what she wanted to hear and she said my plan to make a living from my sculptures was just a phase.’
‘What on earth made you fall in love with her?’ I frowned. ‘It doesn’t sound to me as though you had anything in common at all.’
‘I wasn’t in love with her,’ he quickly said. ‘I know that now.’
‘So, what attracted you to her then? What made you want to marry her? She must have had something going for her if you were prepared to enter into a life-long commitment.’
Mine and Peter’s relationship had been all about business and work connections, but clearly that wasn’t the case for Finn and Erica.
‘If I’m being completely honest,’ he said, ducking his head, ‘then I have to admit that it was one-upmanship. Having someone in my life that someone else wanted. Someone who I truly believed had picked me over them.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Zak,’ he said, letting out a long breath. ‘It was the way Erica spoke to Zak which turned me on to her.’
As soon as he said those words, it all became clear.
‘She was always putting him down and shrugging his attention off in favour of mine. For the first time in my life I had something that he wanted, something he couldn’t take away from me. That was what I built the foundation of our relationship on.’
‘I see.’
‘I know it wasn’t healthy and I know how awful that makes me sound,’ Finn carried on, ‘but that’s the way it was. I’m just being honest with you.’
‘Believe me,’ I quickly told him, ‘I’m not judging you. Peter and I hardly had the right foundations to build a romantic relationship on, did we?’
‘I suppose not.’
‘So, what happened next?’
‘Well, almost before I knew it, I had proposed and the date was set. Zak tried to warn me off but I ignored him, assuming he was jealous. However, the night before the wedding I did have a taste of what was to come, even though I didn’t see it. Erica and I argued again about my plans to leave the business.’
‘She still couldn’t accept your decision?’
‘Not to begin with, but before she left the room, she apologised for not taking me seriously, which was a shock because she never said sorry for anything, and then she promised to do whatever she could to make me happy.’
‘And then the next day, she left you at the altar,’ I said, shaking my head.
‘Exactly,’ said Finn, his tone suddenly lighter. ‘So, she did come good in the end.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, I’ve been thinking about it more rationally recently, and she did fulfil her promise, didn’t she? I might have felt like the biggest fool standing there waiting for a bride who wa
s never going to arrive, but at the end of the day, she had done whatever it took to make me happy. She didn’t marry me.’
That had to be the most positive spin I had ever heard anyone put on anything.
‘I suppose…’
‘And now,’ Finn said, making both Nell and I jump as he stood up and rushed from the room, ‘I want to celebrate.’
He quickly reappeared, carrying a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and two flutes.
‘Where did you spring that from?’ I gasped, as he popped the cork.
‘I brought it over this afternoon and hid it in the cupboard under the stairs,’ he grinned. ‘Are you using that cupboard by the way? It’s full of stuff.’
‘I am,’ I told him proudly. ‘I think I’ve finally conquered my claustrophobia demons, or some of them anyway.’
I’d still made sure the door was properly propped open before I stacked my bits and pieces inside.
‘But never mind that now,’ I said, shaking my head, ‘you were saying about the champagne.’
‘I’ve been saving it for the perfect moment.’
‘And this is it, is it?’ I laughed. ‘What exactly are we toasting?’
We clinked glasses and he looked at me intently.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I’d like to raise a glass to Erica.’
I raised my eyebrows, which made him laugh.
‘Because,’ he hastily explained, ‘had she not left me, I wouldn’t have found out that Prosperous Place, or you, existed and that would have been a tragedy. Erica’s desertion helped me find the courage to become the man I am today, and I’m very grateful for that.’
‘When you put it like that,’ I laughed again, ‘I feel I should be the one making that toast myself.’
‘I thought you might want to raise a glass to Eloise.’ Finn smiled.
I noticed Nell’s ears twitch at the sound of her former mistress’s name.
‘Had it not been for her, you might have gone through with a disastrous wedding and not made it to Nightingale Square either.’
Tears pricked my eyes, but they were happy ones.
‘To Eloise,’ I said, raising my glass. ‘And Peter, because he was saved from a miserable marriage, too.’
I wondered what he was going to say when I told him that he’d been right about how I felt about Finn all along.
‘To Erica, Eloise and Peter,’ said Finn, joining me on the sofa and kissing me firmly on the lips before draining his glass in two gulps.
‘Thank goodness for Erica and Eloise’s timely intervention in our lives,’ I added, before emptying my glass so it matched his.
What happened after that became a little hazy. I do know that we emptied the bottle far quicker than the person who lovingly made it would probably have thought respectful, and I can remember smooching on the couch. I could also recall waking a little after two on Sunday morning with a crick in my neck to find Finn had gone, but he had thoughtfully covered me with the throw from the sofa to stave off the night’s chill.
I negotiated the stairs up to bed, content in the knowledge that the day had ended on a real high and feeling the happiest I’d been since I’d moved to Nightingale Square.
Chapter 25
Feeling dazed, I slammed my hand down on the alarm clock, but it didn’t make the noise stop. It took a few more seconds for my brain to work out that it wasn’t a weekday morning and the cacophony I was being subjected to was coming from my phone, not my bedside clock. Groaning, I pulled a pillow over my head and tried to drift off again, but it was no good. Nell was pawing at the duvet, needing to go out and I was awake just enough to register that my head was pounding.
‘Oh, for pity’s sake,’ I groaned, catching sight of myself in the wardrobe mirror as I pulled on my dressing gown and shuffled to the bathroom.
My hair was absolutely wild and I had no idea what I was going to do to tame it. I was supposed to be helping Poppy and Mark with their Winterfest session, but there was no way I’d be able to do that with the unruly mop on my head. I was a health and safety nightmare and I would need to sort it before I could go anywhere near the Prosperous Place kitchen.
‘Come on then,’ I said to Nell, letting her down the stairs ahead of me, for fear of tripping over her.
I let her into the garden, checked over the plants from Broad-Meadows which were thriving in the porch, flicked on the kettle (the boiling of which was an assault on my eardrums), rammed bread into the toaster and swallowed down two painkillers.
Accusingly, I stared at the empty bottle of champagne which was the cause of my hangover, but then I remembered kissing Finn and some of the pain in my skull receded and the heavy weight of my hair lifted a little. I wondered if he was feeling as rough as I was? Probably not, given the size of him and certainly not yet, because he didn’t have a Nell to tend to and was doubtless still asleep.
I could hear my phone ringing upstairs again and knew it would be Mum. Rather than rush to answer it, I forced down a few mouthfuls of toast to stave off the nausea and waited for her to call again.
‘Morning, Mum,’ I said brightly, determined not to give her even the merest hint that anything was amiss when she rang the third time. ‘How are you?’
‘It’s Peter, actually and I’m really, really good.’
‘Peter,’ I laughed, reminding myself that checking caller ID was never a bad idea. ‘You sound very merry.’
‘I’m a little tipsy,’ he hiccupped.
I checked the clock on the wall.
‘At six in the evening? Have I got the time difference, right?’
‘You have,’ he told me and I could image him woozily nodding, ‘we had a very long lunch and we’re celebrating.’
‘Celebrating what exactly?’
‘I asked Rebecca to marry me and she said yes! She was the beautiful woman I was wining and dining when you called me before, remember?’
‘That’s fantastic news,’ I smiled, hoping I hadn’t interrupted more than just a meal out. It would have been awful if he had been gearing up to propose then and was halted by a call from an ex. ‘Congratulations to you both. I’m truly thrilled for you.’
‘You will come out for the wedding, won’t you?’
‘I’ll try my best,’ I promised. ‘Where’s Rebecca now?’
‘She’s phoning her parents. I told mine a little while ago.’
I was flattered that I featured so high up on his list of folk to call.
‘And what about you?’ he asked. ‘Any joy with that Finn fella?’
‘Lots,’ I grinned, thinking of the evening before.
‘Oh, really?’ said Peter, sounding deservedly smug. ‘So, I was right then?’
‘As it turns out.’
‘I knew it!’
‘I know you did,’ I said, shaking my head and regretting it, ‘now, go and find your fiancée. We’ll chat again soon, okay?’
‘All right,’ he agreed.
‘Congratulations,’ I said again, but the tipsy fool had already hung up.
I had barely put the phone down before it buzzed again. This time I checked and it was Mum.
‘Morning, Mum,’ I said, feeling genuinely brighter than before, buoyed up as I was by Peter’s wonderful news. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine, thank you, Freya,’ she said, ‘but what’s wrong with you? You sound all croaky?’
‘I’ve had a cold,’ I told her, amused that Peter hadn’t noticed and grateful that she was miles away and couldn’t see my hungover state. ‘It’s almost gone now,’ I sniffed to prove the point, as I rifled through my drawer of hair accessories. ‘I’ve just been left with a bit of a croak. How are things with you and Dad?’
‘Busy,’ she said, just as I knew she would.
She and Dad were always busy.
‘And I have news,’ she added.
‘If it’s about Jackson and Broad-Meadows, I don’t want to hear it,’ I interrupted.
‘There’s no need to be rude,’ Mum tutted. ‘I do hav
e news about Broad-Meadows, and lots of it, because you wouldn’t let me tell you the last time we spoke, but I’m actually calling about Peter.’
‘Peter,’ I repeated, trying to keep the smile out of my voice, because I already knew what she was going to say.
‘It’s a bit delicate,’ Mum carried on, ‘especially if you still have feelings for him. You don’t, do you, darling?’
‘Not the sort you’re implying,’ I said. ‘And you know I never did. I thought we’d established that a long time ago.’
‘Well, as long as you really mean it and you aren’t just saying it,’ she went on, making me bristle a little, ‘then that’s something I suppose.’
‘Oh, just spit it out, Mum, for heaven’s sake,’ I goaded, spurred on by the bedside clock which seemed to have fast-forwarded at least half an hour.
‘He’s engaged.’
She accompanied the two words with a sigh of such magnitude that she must have sucked in every last drop of air in her orbit in order to release it so dramatically.
‘Well, that’s wonderful news,’ I said happily.
I had no intention of telling her that I already knew. Had in fact heard the words from the man himself, because that would only lead to a barrage of questions.
‘If you say so.’
‘Of course, I say so,’ I said, with a very genuine smile, ‘I’m absolutely delighted for him. Do you know his fiancée’s name? I’ll have to send a card.’
‘It’s Rebecca,’ Mum said airily. ‘No idea what her last name is. Peter’s parents called earlier with the news, but they didn’t say who she was. She’s no one significant, I’m sure.’
‘Well,’ I said, bristling again, ‘she’s pretty significant to Peter, isn’t she? Otherwise he wouldn’t have asked her to marry him. And that’s all that matters.’
‘I suppose.’
I was quiet for a moment, imagining Peter happy and drunk in New Zealand and my pounding head stilled a little. I wasn’t sure if it was the painkillers kicking in, or if I was still drunk too – on love, that is – but whatever it was, I was happy for him and for me. The year was going to end on a high for both of us. If someone had told me that just a few months ago, I wouldn’t have believed it.
Unfortunately, Mum misconstrued my momentary quiet for disappointment.
