The True Love Travels Series Box Set

by Poppy Pennington-Smith

  Lottie shook her head and took the pile of clothes from the bed to the bathroom, calling behind her. “I promise you, I am not the sort of person who usually does this. It was just a really – intense – night.”

  When she emerged, Beatrice raised an eyebrow and said, “Damn. You look way better in those jeans than I do.”

  Lottie smoothed her top over her stomach, trying to breathe in so that its softness and roundness didn’t show under Beatrice’s black scoop-neck top. “Thank you. And thank you for letting me borrow them. As soon as I get back to the hotel, I’ll return them.”

  Beatrice shrugged. “Honestly, don’t worry. I’m glad to help.”

  “So, you live in the same building as Sam?” Lottie shrugged the long grey cardigan Beatrice had brought over her shoulders and sat back down for a moment, feeling immediately at ease and relieved to have encountered someone who seemed more like her kind of person than the gaggle of people on the yacht last night.

  “My husband Tom works with him. When I took the job as his PA, he gave us a great deal on the apartment.”

  Lottie frowned. “Wait. Sam owns your apartment too?”

  “Mm hmm.”

  “Wow. He really has moved up in the world.”

  “Not that you’d know it,” Beatrice said, rising slowly and walking back towards the door. “He’s the most down-to-earth guy you’ll ever meet.” And then, just before opening it, she added. “And, Lottie? I wouldn’t be so sure about him not thinking of you that way.”

  Lottie wanted to ask Beatrice what she meant, but she didn’t have the chance because suddenly the door was open and they were in Sam’s sprawling penthouse living-room and Beatrice was leaving.

  “Bye Lottie, great to meet you, and I hope to see you again.”

  From the kitchen part of the open plan apartment, Sam held up two mugs – one tall, one tiny – and said, “Cappuccino or Espresso?”

  “Cappuccino. Two sugars.” Lottie was too hungover to pretend that she didn’t consume calories.

  Sam waved a hand at the long, dark grey couch that stood proudly beside a suspended wood-burning fireplace and told Lottie to take a seat. From her perch, she was torn between looking out at the city and looking at Sam. He was different, but she couldn’t quite figure out how. He was still tall and lithe but now that he was dressed in jeans and a simple white t-shirt she could see that his upper arms were actually quite well defined.

  “I see you’ve ditched the video game tees,” she said as he handed over her coffee and folded himself into the opposite corner of the couch.

  Sam smiled and brushed his fingers through his still damp hair. The smile made his cheek dimple. “Well, I can afford clothes that actually fit me now. No more buying XXL for the length and looking like a teenager wearing his dad’s hand-me-downs.”

  “I don’t know, I kind of liked the quirky tees.”

  “Well you’d have been the only one,” Sam replied, laughing and sipping from his tiny Espresso cup. Here, finally, for the first time in the entire time they’d known one another, Sam seemed at ease in his own skin. And at ease around her too.

  With the coffee starting to work its magic, Lottie’s head began to return to normal and she relaxed back into the couch cushions. “This is an amazing place, Sam. I had no idea you lived somewhere like this. What on earth do you do now?”

  Sam swallowed hard and balanced his elbow on his knee. “The same as Soph, really, I just made some good investments a while back.”

  “Do you like it? What you do?”

  “I’m not sure anyone likes what they do.”

  Lottie felt her brow crease. “I do.”

  “Really?”

  “I love it. Every day I get up, I brew some coffee, put it in my little travel mug, take about fifteen steps down the garden to my studio, draw until Duke starts giving me his please, please can we go out, eyes. Then we walk, come home, and do it all over again.”

  For a moment, Sam just looked at her over the brim of his cup, but then he smiled.

  “I know it’s silly…”

  “No, it’s not. I was just wishing I felt that way about what I do.”

  “Well, if you don’t, maybe it’s time for a career change?” Lottie was returning Sam’s unblinking gaze when her phone trembled to life and cut it short. “Soph?”

  “Morning.” Sophie’s voice was about three octaves lower than usual.

  “You okay?”

  “Mm. You?”

  “Just about. Sam’s taking care of me.” Lottie looked away as she spoke, standing up and walking over to the window.

  “Get him to call you an Uber and we’ll order room service for breakfast.”

  Lottie’s cheeks flushed as she glanced over her shoulder at Sam and said, softly, “Well I feel kind of bad just leaving, after Sam…”

  Sophie paused and Lottie could hear her chewing the inside of her cheek. “Sure, okay, so bring him and we’ll eat in the orangery. No biggie.”

  “Okay, see you soon.” Lottie waited for the heat in her cheeks to subside before she turned back. “Sophie asked if you want to have breakfast?”

  Sam’s nose twitched and he looked down at his hands. Lottie couldn’t figure out why the thought of him saying no was making her feel nervous. She fidgeted from one foot to the other and tugged at Beatrice’s top, smoothing it over her hips.

  But then he smiled and said, “Sure.”

  The hotel’s orangery was bustling with smartly dressed patrons, helping themselves to the enormous buffet in the centre of the room. Sophie had found a spot near the window that looked out onto a small courtyard garden, complete with fountain and avant-garde sculptures, but she wasn’t alone.

  At first, Lottie thought it might be Dale sitting there with his elbows on the table and what looked like a Bloody Mary in his hand. But as soon as she spotted a glimpse of neatly trimmed stubble, she knew it wasn’t. It was Richard.

  Lottie stopped, lingering by a stack of croissants that had been balanced into an elaborate pyramid. Behind her, Sam bumped forcefully into her back. Lottie turned around, wondering whether she could make it to the door before Sophie spotted her. But it was too late.

  “Lottie, over here!” Sophie shouted loudly but huskily above the thrum of the breakfast eaters.

  Gently, Lottie made herself turn around and tried to walk steadily towards the table. The memory of discomfort from last night’s heels was still throbbing in her feet and every step felt like one too far.

  As she slid into the chair beside Sophie, Richard looked up from his drink and smiled. How did he look so immaculate when the rest of them looked like a grim, ageing, flashback to their time as students?

  “Well, well, what did you two get up to last night?” He patted Sam forcefully between the shoulder blades with a flat heavy palm.

  Lottie tucked her hair behind her ear and, beneath the table, wriggled her feet free of her shoes. “Sam’s PA put me to bed and he, very gallantly, slept on the couch.” Why had she said that? Maybe it would do Richard some good to think that something had happened between her and Sam.

  “Ahhh, always the gent,” Richard cooed, squeezing Sam’s cheek.

  Sam’s jaw twitched, as if he was having to restrain himself from swatting Richard’s hand away or getting up from the table and striding out of the restaurant.

  “Richard,” Lottie interjected. “I didn’t ask last night – where are you working now?”

  For the briefest of moments, Richard tapped his index finger against his glass. Then he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. “I’ve got a few things in the pipeline, nothing solid, don’t like to commit until I’m sure a project is a goer.”

  Internally, Lottie muttered, You don’t like to commit, full-stop. But to Richard she said, “I see.” Actually, she didn’t see but before she had a chance to press him further, Sophie tweaked her sunglasses up onto her head and placed her palms flat on the table.

  “Guys,” she said, solemnly. “I b
rought you all here this morning because I’ve had the best idea.”

  Lottie waved at a passing waiter and asked for a coffee. Sam did too.

  “So, every year, Lottie comes to London for fireworks around my birthday, then comes back for the Christmas lights and her birthday.”

  Lottie piled three sugars into her mug and stirred forcefully, ignoring Richard’s judgmental squint.

  “But I was thinking, what if this year we have a little reunion party…?” Sophie paused as if she hadn’t yet reached the best part of The Idea and then drum rolled on the table with her knife and fork.

  Sam visibly hunched himself a little smaller in his seat, glancing around at the other diners, several of whom were tutting in their direction.

  “At Lottie’s place! In the country!” Sophie pronounced ‘in the country’ as if she was imitating a Cornish farmer and then waved her hands at them. “Well? What do you think?”

  “You want to come to my place?” Lottie felt the words thicken in her mouth as it became suddenly very, very dry.

  “I think it’s a great idea.” Richard was the first to answer, clinking his glass against Sophie’s and grinning.

  Very slowly, Lottie placed her coffee cup back on the table and pinched the skin between her thumb and forefinger. This had to be a bad dream. It wasn’t really happening. It couldn’t be; an hour ago she was in a luxury penthouse apartment, looking out at the London sunrise. And now she was sitting opposite her ex-boyfriend, facing some kind of farcical university reunion.

  “Soph,” she said, before she could stop herself. “Are you still drunk?”

  “You don’t think it’d be fun, Lotts?”

  Opposite Lottie, Richard reached out and placed his hand over hers. “Oh, come on, Lottie, don’t be a spoil-sport. It’ll be great. Four old Durham buddies, stomping about in the countryside for a long weekend. What sounds better than that?”

  Lottie took her hand away and shook her head, desperately trying to find the words that would wriggle her out of this.

  “I’m not sure I could take time away from the office, actually,” Sam added, matter-of-factly. “And perhaps Lottie doesn’t want us to descend on her for her birthday.”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, of course she does.” Sophie put her arm around Lottie’s waist and squeezed. “And don’t worry about Dan, he owes me a favour or two, I’ll square it with him for you to be away.”

  “It’s not that he wouldn’t let me, Sophie, it’s just a crucial time–”

  “Sam, Sam, Sam, this has always been your problem.” Richard had downed the remnants of his Bloody Mary and was absentmindedly tapping his fork on his empty plate.

  “My problem?”

  “You work too hard. You need to learn to relax. You too, Lott-Bags.”

  “Richard, please don’t call me that, you know I hate it.”

  “You never used to mind it.”

  “Yes, I did.” Lottie was clenching her jaw so hard it was giving her a headache.

  “So, that’s a yes?” Sophie looked around at them expectantly. And when no one directly said ‘no’, she squealed with delight, swiped open her phone, and started plugging dates and train times into her calendar.

  For probably the very first time in all the years they’d known each other, it seemed Sam and Lottie finally had something in common; neither of them wanted this to happen, but both felt utterly powerless to stop it. Sophie was a whirlwind, a force of nature. She got what she wanted. And she wanted herself, Lottie, Richard, and Sam to enjoy a long weekend in Lottie’s cottage. Together.

  Lottie shovelled another spoonful of sugar into her coffee. Surely, at any moment, she’d wake up?

  5

  THREE WEEKS LATER

  Beside her, Duke’s paws were twitching; he was sleep-chasing a rabbit and occasionally the tiniest whimper escaped his curled furry lips. Lottie rested her hand on his side and concentrated on the feel of his heartbeat beneath her fingers. Then she ruffled his ears and went to do one final sweep of the guest bedrooms.

  Her grandmother’s old cottage had three rooms upstairs, a steep old-fashioned staircase, and an always-cold downstairs bathroom. Since she was a little girl, she’d loved every inch of this cottage. She loved the dusty nooks, the creaky floorboards, and the way condensation hung to the inside of the windows each morning. She loved lighting a fire in the evenings and having to wear three layers of clothes in bed because upstairs was always freezing. And she loved the big ungainly range cooker and the terrible mobile signal.

  But Sophie would not love it. No matter how much dusting Lottie did, Sophie would definitely not love it, which was precisely why she’d never – in the entire five years Lottie had lived there – visited. Not once.

  Richard wouldn’t love it either; he’d make fun of it. She could already hear his sarcastic comments ringing in her ears. But she’d resigned herself to do this – to allow them all to come here – for a reason. After ten years, it was about time she stopped caring what Richard thought about her, and this was her chance to finally rise above the way he made her feel. She was going to show him that, actually, the way he’d treated her had made her stronger. Independent. Successful.

  At least, that was the plan.

  Noticing yet another cobweb above the bed, Lottie sighed. She’d allocated Sophie her own room and given the boys the other two. One was an actual guest room – Sam’s – but the other – Richard’s – was used as a library-come-dumping-ground. So, she’d simply shoved the books and boxes to one side and erected a blow-up mattress on the other.

  Lottie had contemplated sleeping on the couch, but the thought of being disturbed by whoever was trekking down to use the bathroom in the middle of the night had made her quickly change her mind. Instead, she’d decided to camp out in her studio. There, she’d be able to lock herself in and even do some work if she woke up early enough

  She was gazing out of the window at her front garden – rose bushes, a bird bath, a small white gate – when she noticed a car pull up in the lane. It was a black Audi. Not Sophie’s car; she drove a top of the range silver Mini. And not Richard’s either. She didn’t know what Richard drove, but she knew it wouldn’t be black – it would be orange, or red, or silver with white ‘go faster’ stripes down the side. Which meant it was Sam.

  And, although she was strangely pleased at the prospect of seeing him, she still couldn’t quite figure out why Sophie had been so determined to get them all together.

  Sophie had never liked Sam, or Richard. So, why was she rewriting history? Pretending they were a happy little four-some? Whatever the reason, Lottie was certain it would wriggle its way to the surface sooner or later, but the anticipation of it was making her skin feel tight and prickly – cold and hot and clammy all at the same time – and she’d barely slept the last few nights.

  Waiting for the car door to open, she took in her reflection in the glass. She’d tried to cover the lines around her eyes and the blemishes on her cheeks but after running around all morning – dusting and changing the sheets and trying to get the fluff out from between the floorboards in the bathroom – the smattering of makeup she’d applied had faded.

  Finally, Sam unfolded himself from the driver’s seat and emerged blinking at the vast white sky above. Smoothing her sweater, Lottie padded downstairs and opened the door. Behind her, Duke flopped off the couch and shook himself awake.

  “It’s okay, boy, we’ve got a visitor.”

  Duke sat and tipped his head to one side, as if he was trying to interpret the word ‘visitor’ – they never had visitors.

  Lottie leaned against the doorframe as Sam approached. Then became suddenly conscious of the way she was jutting her hip out sideways and straightened herself up. Sam was wearing a dark grey sweater that made his eyes look bluer than normal. He paused at the gate and Lottie caught herself smiling. The gate was so tiny, and Sam was so tall, it wouldn’t have surprised her if he’d hopped over it in one big stride.

  “You’
re early,” she said, already tutting at herself for being so abrupt. “I mean, the others aren’t here yet. You’re the first.”

  “Sorry.” Sam glanced back at his car as if he was wondering whether he should drive around the village a few times and return later on.

  “No, no, don’t be sorry,” Lottie said, ushering him inside. “I’m glad.”

  Noticing Duke, Sam bobbed down to ruffle his ears. “You are?”

  Lottie blushed. “I was just praying it wouldn’t be Richard who arrived first.”

  Sam stood up, leaving his overnight bag on the floor. “Things between you two are…?”

  “Strange. Sophie’s yacht was the first time we’d spoken since…” Lottie trailed off. She was pretty sure Sam didn’t know the details of her and Richard’s break up. No one did. So, she shrugged and said, “Shall I show you your room? Then I can put the kettle on.”

  “Sure.”

  After giving Sam a miniature tour of the cottage, and cringing every time he bumped his forehead on the low beams and even lower door frames, Lottie’s nerves were starting to diminish. Sam seemed genuinely taken with where she lived, despite it being the absolute polar opposite of his plush penthouse apartment.

  Folding himself into one of the rickety wooden chairs that surrounded the large farmhouse kitchen table, Sam smiled and leaned forward onto his elbows. “It’s so peaceful here.”

  Stoking up the range cooker and putting her large heavy kettle on top to boil, Lottie leaned back against the kitchen worktop and tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s so different from the City,” she said, chewing at her lower lip. “I’m surprised you like it.”

  “Are you kidding? My grandad was a farmer. He had a place like this, on a cattle farm in Devon. It was my favourite holiday as a kid.”

  Lottie filled two large coffee cups and handed one to Sam. “I never knew that about you.”

  Sam looked away from her, down into his coffee. Was he blushing? “I guess I kept myself to myself back when we were housemates.”