Make or Break at the Lighthouse B & B

by Portia MacIntosh

  After the party we head up to the room that we had never intended to sleep in. It’s a gorgeous room with a stunning king-size four-poster bed. After sleeping on the sofa, and then the single in my childhood bedroom, it looks so inviting. For two reasons, if I’m being honest …

  I know Dean was only ever supposed to be a client – not even a client, a charity case – but I feel like I’m falling for him …

  ‘So, you’ll be going home soon?’ Dean asks. ‘Not Marram Bay home, London home?’

  ‘That’s the plan,’ I reply. ‘But … I don’t think I want to.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No,’ I reply. ‘I’m loving being around my mum and dad; I’ve made some great friends. I don’t really know what’s waiting for me back in London. There’s my job but … I don’t know … I’ve kind of gone off that a bit too.’

  ‘Oh?’ he replies.

  ‘Yeah, I’m not sure you can force these things,’ I say. ‘I suppose it kind of made sense for celebrities, royals and other miscellaneous rich people who like to have their associates carefully vetted but, in real life, the right people come into your life when you’re ready, and you move at the exact pace you want to. If you want to be single, be single. Don’t listen to anyone else. Not society or your family … or me.’

  I plonk myself down on the bed as carefully as I can.

  ‘You’ve changed your tune,’ he says as he sits down next to me.

  ‘I have,’ I say. ‘I’ve learned a lot about love and about myself …’

  I’ve learned a lot about Dean too, but I keep that to myself.

  ‘So you think you’ll move back?’ he asks.

  ‘I’m thinking about it,’ I reply. ‘Even if it’s just until I figure out what to do next. When I broke my leg I felt like I was so fragile. It turns out it was my life that was fragile. My leg will heal, but I’ll never get my life back. I’m kind of tipsy now though, so ask me again tomorrow.’

  Dean laughs. ‘I’m kind of tipsy too,’ he replies. ‘I probably won’t even remember to ask you.’

  ‘All’s well that ends well,’ I say, for some reason, with a kind of manic laugh that fizzles out into the silence.

  ‘So, it’s late,’ Dean starts. ‘The bed situation …’

  ‘Let’s just share it,’ I say. ‘It’s a big bed and … and …’

  I don’t think I’ll ever be able to tell you who is the instigator, but we kiss again. This time, there’s way more passion to it as all of the sexual tension that has been undeniably building between us bursts to the surface.

  I am mindful of my leg but I don’t need to be. Unlike Will – a medical doctor, may I remind you – who was slinging me around like a rag doll, Dean is way more gentle. It’s gentle but passionate and I don’t think I’ve felt such a gloriously subtle compromise of the two extremes before.

  I wiggle off my dress as Dean hurries off his clothes. Neither of us says a word. It’s like we both know exactly what we’re doing.

  As he presses down on top of me and kisses me, I completely push my leg out of my mind and just enjoy the moment. Without really realising it, I have wanted this for so long. I’m not going to let something silly like a broken bone ruin it for me.

  Chapter 41

  I wake up lying on my back with a pillow underneath my broken leg, just like I do every day. I wonder, for a split second, if what happened with Dean was nothing more than a delicious dream, until I glance next to me in the bed and see him lying there, sleeping contentedly.

  I think it says a lot, that we’re both in our underwear and there’s a pillow placed lovingly underneath my leg. It wasn’t just a case of wham, bam, thank you, ma’am before falling asleep. Dean helped me get ready for bed and made sure I was comfortable. He really is a dream come true.

  It’s as if somehow he knows I’m staring at him because he wakes up and catches me.

  ‘Good morning,’ he says.

  ‘Good morning to you,’ I reply.

  Dean lifts himself up onto his elbow and leans forward to kiss me.

  ‘How are you?’ he asks.

  ‘I’m pretty good,’ I reply. ‘You?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m decent,’ he says with a laugh. ‘Fancy some breakfast?’

  ‘Oh, that would be amazing,’ I enthuse. I’m starving.

  ‘Incredible,’ he chuckles to himself. ‘I leave you feeling “pretty good” but breakfast is “amazing”.’

  ‘Few can compete with pancakes,’ I reason.

  He nods in agreement. ‘So, last night …’ he starts. ‘You said you were thinking of moving back home.’

  ‘I did,’ I reply. ‘I am. I think it’s time. I miss my family.’

  ‘That makes sense,’ he says. ‘My ex really struggled being away from hers, especially when her dad was ill. They were all the way over in the States.’

  ‘Oh, Anna was American?’ I say curiously. ‘I don’t know why, I was imagining an English rose type.’

  ‘Nope, she was about as all-American as you can get.’

  Suddenly Dean cocks his head and stares at me curiously.

  ‘What?’ I ask as I watch his brow furrow and his smile vanish.

  ‘You didn’t know Anna was American …’ he tells me.

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ I reply. ‘You never told me she was American.’

  ‘I also never told you she was called Anna,’ he replies.

  Shit. I’m sure if I were better at this stuff it would occur to me to say something smart, but I feel so guilty knowing details he never offered me that it makes me awkward.

  ‘No, well, your sister …’

  ‘You were talking to my sister about my marriage?’ he asks angrily. ‘When you know I don’t like to talk about it?’

  ‘Well, no, she just started talking about it,’ I say.

  ‘And you didn’t stop her? How much did she tell you?’

  ‘I didn’t get chance to stop her. She was just chatting and anything I didn’t know, she’d said before I’d even realised it.’

  Dean jumps out of bed and hurries into his clothes.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.

  ‘You and my sister, talking about my private life when you had no right to. She tells you some sob story about me and … you must feel so sorry for me, and when people feel sorry for people their feelings are … distorted.’

  He seems so hurt and embarrassed and I feel so bad. I wish I’d stopped Faye talking before anything came out because there’s no way my feelings changed just because I felt sorry for him.

  ‘Sure, I saw a different side to you last night, but I definitely didn’t feel sorry for you. I’m seeing more of your soft side lately – not just yesterday – and I like it. If anything, I shouldn’t be kissing you at all because you’re a client.’

  I’m about to tell him just how much I like him when a whole new realisation washes over him.

  ‘You’re right, I am just a client,’ he says. ‘Just some poor guy who can’t get a girl without playing the sympathy card.’

  ‘Oh my God, Dean, no,’ I start. ‘What I meant is that I shouldn’t be kissing clients at all – that I would never, but, I just felt so strongly about you and, well, you’re not even a client. Your sister isn’t paying me to help you; she just asked, and I said yes.’

  ‘Wait, what? All this time I’ve been coming to your classes because I thought Faye had wasted money on them, and I needn’t have bothered?’

  ‘She didn’t think you’d come if you knew,’ I point out.

  ‘I’ve had enough people lie to me,’ he says softly as he heads for the door. ‘I don’t need any more.’

  I want to go after him, but pulling myself up out of bed and getting ready takes me far too long. I’m only just struggling my shoe on when there’s a knock at the door.

  ‘Faye, hi,’ I say.

  ‘Morning Lola. Dean said he had a police emergency and had to rush off. He’s asked me to drive you back to Marram Bay with us, if that’s OK?’

  ‘Oh, OK,
yeah, sure, thank you,’ I babble.

  Dean has obviously spun her another story so I’m not about to upset him by doing anything other than going along with it.

  ‘Can I help you get ready?’ she asks. ‘Dean said you might need help?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ I say softly. ‘Just having a bit of trouble with my shoe.’

  ‘Was he OK?’ she asks me. ‘He could hardly look at me. He practically stormed past me, only stopping for a second to ask me to drive you.’

  ‘I think he was just worried about the work thing,’ I say. ‘It must be a scary job.’

  ‘Yeah, I don’t think he likes to talk about it,’ she says. ‘He doesn’t like to talk about anything all that much.’

  Faye helps me hop back to the bed before assisting me with my shoe.

  ‘It was so nice to have you here with us yesterday,’ she tells me. ‘And being here with Dean. Maybe I’m just an overprotective sister but he’s been so lonely for so long, and since he met you, it’s like you’ve tapped back into the old Dean. He’d kill me for saying this, but it really seems like he’s falling in love with you. I just can’t thank you enough for giving me my happy brother back.’

  I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that I’ve hurt Dean so much when he was obviously having strong feelings for me, or the fact that I think I might be falling in love with him too …

  Chapter 42

  I have gathered my parents at the breakfast table to tell them some news.

  ‘You’re not going home early, are you?’ my mum asks, horrified at the thought that I might take off anything up to three days earlier than I told her previously.

  ‘No, bigger news than that,’ I say. ‘Do you think I would sit you down to break that kind of news to you?’

  ‘Oh, is it sit-down news?’ my mum says. ‘I didn’t realise it was sit-down news. What do I do?’

  ‘Stay sat down I suppose,’ my dad tells her with a laugh. He doesn’t seem worried; he’s way too chilled out for that.

  ‘You’re not … not pregnant?’ my mum says.

  ‘I am not pregnant, Mum, not even close.’ I sigh. ‘I’m moving back to Marram Bay.’

  My parents jump to their feet with joy and hurry around the table to hug me.

  ‘Really?’ my mum says. ‘You’re not pranking us?’

  ‘Pranking you? No.’ I laugh. ‘I just want to come home. I’ve loved being around you and there’s nothing in London I want to go back to. I’ll give my notice and then … I don’t know, I’ll think of something.’

  ‘There are plenty of single people in Marram Bay,’ my mum reminds me.

  ‘Yeah, maybe … or maybe I’ll try something else. But, either way, I’m coming back so … can I live here for a bit please?’

  ‘Of course,’ my dad says.

  ‘Live here forever,’ my mum adds excitedly.

  It’s nice, to make them so happy.

  ‘I’ll go get some champagne from the bar,’ my dad says, leaving me alone with my mum.

  ‘Is this why you’ve been quiet since you got back from the wedding?’ she asks.

  ‘I didn’t realise I’d been quiet,’ I say.

  ‘Yes, because you were miles away,’ she replies. ‘Did you not have a very nice time?’

  ‘No, it was really nice,’ I say. ‘I had a great time.’

  I did have a great time yesterday; it was this morning that ruined it all.

  My mum sits down on the chair next to mine and reaches out to take my hand in hers.

  ‘Do you think you’ll keep trying to find Dean someone, now that you’re staying?’ she asks. ‘You’ve done such a brilliant job with everyone else – Kim and Robbie are on a date right now. He’s taken the day off. They’ve gone to Marram Bay Comet Con.’

  I don’t know what amuses me more, that Marram Bay has a Comic Con or that my mum calls it Comet Con – I wonder what she thinks it is.

  ‘I don’t know about Dean, Mum – I might give up.’

  ‘I thought you might end up with him,’ she says. ‘I thought that might have been part of the reason you’re moving back home.’

  ‘I’m moving back home because I want to see you guys more,’ I insist.

  ‘Well, we won’t want to see you if you’re miserable,’ she (hopefully) jokes.

  I fidget with the placemat in front of me, lifting up one corner before allowing it to drop back down onto the table.

  ‘Are you annoyed because you didn’t set him up with anyone or are you annoyed because it isn’t you?’ she asks.

  I suppose, when you’re a mum, you don’t need to be a brilliant detective to know exactly what’s going on with your kids. My whole life she’s always been a few steps ahead of me, waiting for me when I arrive home later than I said I would, getting to the post before I had chance to intercept letters from school, and now, knowing when I’m holding something back.

  ‘Maybe it’s both,’ I say.

  ‘Champagne,’ my dad announces as he walks back into the room with a bottle. He shakes it theatrically before realising his mistake. ‘Maybe we’ll wait a minute.’

  ‘Don’t give up just yet, Lola,’ my mum whispers to me. ‘It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow – you never know what will happen.’

  Oh wow, I had no idea what date it actually was. Valentine’s Day, eh? Maybe I won’t give up just yet. Maybe I’ve got one last trick up my sleeve.

  Chapter 43

  I hover by the Hope Island Abbey, shifting my weight back and forth between my crutches. I texted Dean, told him I’d be here, and asked him to join me, but I haven’t heard back from him yet. With my arms growing tired I slip them out of my crutches and lean my body back on to the wall behind me. I don’t know how much longer I should wait here before I give up.

  It’s Valentine’s Day and, here in Marram Bay, we take matters of the heart very seriously. For the annual Valentine’s Day Festival, the local restaurants usually take it in turns to host a special romantic meal. This year it is the turn of Yorkshi, Hope Island’s (if not the world’s) only Yorkshire sushi joint. Well, that’s what they call it, but it isn’t raw fish, it’s just local favourites served sushi style. I visited once when I was here for Christmas a few years ago. We had Wensleydale and smoked salmon rolls, fish and chip Nigiri … We even had these tiny little cooked breakfasts that looked just like the real thing, with scrambled egg wrapped in black pudding.

  Tonight though we’re not actually in Yorkshi; Yorkshi have set up a pop-up restaurant in the abbey ruins. The place is completely transformed with fairy lights to make it look pretty and heaters to keep everyone nice and warm. Everyone is dressed beautifully and sitting at cute little tables for two, which are decorated with fresh red roses. It’s a romantic dream come true. Well, for everyone but me. I’ve been stood up.

  ‘Would you like to take your table, miss?’ a waiter asks me.

  ‘Actually …’ I start.

  ‘I’m here,’ Dean says as he hurries over in a suit – a different suit to the one he wore to the wedding. This one is black. I don’t know why I didn’t expect him to have more than one suit, but he looks even better in this one that he did in the last.

  Dean might be looking good but he doesn’t look very pleased to see me. It’s cold, standing just outside the walls of the abbey away from the heaters, but it’s even frostier now Dean has turned up.

  ‘Let’s get this over with,’ he suggests, which floors the waiter. I suppose all the other couples are loved up, so this must be very confusing for him.

  We sit down at our table and order a couple of drinks. All Dean wants is an orange juice, which makes me think he’s about to take off. I order the same.

  ‘I understand that you might want to talk to me, but did you really think this was the right place to do it?’ he asks once we’re alone.

  ‘Will you just hear me out please?’ I ask.

  Dean nods, but I can tell that his usual patience is absent.

  ‘First of all, just to clear up what happened, I did
promise your sister that I wouldn’t tell you she wasn’t paying me to help you. She asked me if there was anything I could do for you and I said that I would try. I just heard something in her voice … something that told me how much she loved you and how much she wanted to help you. But she asked me not to tell you that she wasn’t paying me because she didn’t think you’d take it seriously if you didn’t think there was something on the line.’

  ‘Well, yeah, I guess she’s right about that,’ he says. ‘If I’d thought it was optional there’s no way I would’ve come. When she told me you had a money-back guarantee, I figured if it didn’t work – which I was certain it wouldn’t – I could get her money back for her at least.’

  ‘Well, no money changed hands, so you were never a client. I just really wanted to help you, and to me, it always just felt like we were friends.’

  ‘I suppose I felt the same,’ he says, looking down at his hands as he fidgets with his napkin. ‘I guess I forgot that what we were doing was supposedly your job and then, when you reminded me, it all felt a bit … I don’t know.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ I say. ‘And I know you don’t like people knowing your business and I know that you don’t like people feeling sorry for you but it’s impossible not to feel sorry for you. Not to pity you, but what your ex did to you was awful. How can I not feel for you? Especially after what happened with me and Patrick, and especially when I care for you so much.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he says softly. ‘I was embarrassed. It’s embarrassing! Anna divorced me because I wanted to have kids with her and then went off and got pregnant with someone else. It’s me she didn’t want to have kids with. I was the problem.’

  The emotion in his voice makes me feel awful for him all over again, but I try not to show it because I know he doesn’t like it.

  ‘You don’t know that,’ I tell him. ‘You won’t ever know that. You can’t ever know that, because even if she told you that wasn’t the case you probably wouldn’t believe her anyway.’

  Dean looks me in the eye, nodding thoughtfully. He always seems like this big strong man, but to see so much hurt and vulnerability in his eyes – it’s terrifying. He’s supposed to be this untouchable police officer. I suppose we’re all humans with feelings, at the end of the day. Even big, strong Yorkshire men.