From the lounge, the crooning sounds of Bing Crosby danced out into the hall. Lottie sighed and shook her head; the last thing she needed right now was Christmas music.
Giving her shoulders a little shake, she tried not to think about the fact that Sam’s Audi was probably already at the bottom of the lane, heading back to London, and went to find Sophie. If she told Sophie what had happened, she would make Richard leave. She’d wrap Lottie in a giant hug and make her a cup of tea with too much sugar in it, and they’d spend the rest of the afternoon talking about the fact that this was precisely why they had been single so long – because men were idiots. She’d probably even drag Lottie back to London with her and organise something to take her mind off it.
Lottie smiled to herself. Sophie may have been pushy and posh, but she was good in a crisis; she’d know what to do.
But when she reached the open archway that led into the living room, her smile instantly faded. At first, as she stood in the doorway unable to move, she thought Sophie was playing some kind of trick on her – her hand was on Richard’s knee and his arm was around her waist – but then they kissed. And it wasn’t a friendly, joking, peck on the lips; it was a kiss. The kind of kiss she’d almost had with Sam last night. The kind of kiss Richard had tried, and failed, to plant on her not even an hour ago.
Before she could stop herself, Lottie laughed. A great, big, guffaw of a laugh. Hah!
Sophie sprang backwards. Richard looked up, met her eyes, and didn’t make any effort to move.
“Lottie! We…” Sophie’s cheeks were crimson with embarrassment.
Lottie waved a hand and closed her eyes. “You really don’t need to explain.”
Sophie stood up, lingering half way between Lottie and Richard.
“I’d like you both to leave now.” Somehow, Lottie was managing to remain very calm. In fact, she wasn’t even particularly angry. She was just suddenly very, very tired. Tired of all of them, and tired of the drama, and ready to have the cottage to herself again. Just her and Duke. “I’m going to my studio. When I come back, I’d really prefer it if you weren’t here.”
In the studio, feeling oddly numb and still trying to figure out exactly what she’d just witnessed, Lottie had only just sat down at her desk when Sophie tapped on the door.
“Richard’s gone.”
“But you’re still here?”
Sophie ducked into the studio and perched opposite Lottie on the edge of the couch. “I’ll go. I promise. I just couldn’t leave without saying sorry.”
Lottie felt her eyes narrow as she looked at her best friend. “Okay.”
Sophie wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head. “Lottie. I swear, I never wanted you to find out like that.”
Lottie frowned, and then her eyes widened in realisation. “It wasn’t just a one-off? This is a thing. You and Richard?”
Sophie was biting her lower lip.
“How long has it been going on?” Even as Lottie asked the question, the pieces started to fall into place: Sophie’s sudden determination to make Lottie start dating someone, the set up with Dale, the fact that Richard had miraculously been available and in the area on the night of the yacht party.
She sat back in her chair, almost laughing because she couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it sooner. “That’s what all this was about – inviting Sam to the party, getting us all together for my birthday. All of it was so that you had an excuse to spend time with Richard?”
At that, Sophie shook her head. “No, no, it wasn’t like that.” She sighed and scraped her fingers through her hair, her face suddenly paler than usual. “Richard and I started talking – online – a few months ago. It was nothing, to start with. Just the occasional message. Reminiscing. But then we – I don’t know – connected? On a deeper level.”
Lottie was trying very hard not to scoff and storm out. She could feel the heat rising in her throat.
“I kept meaning to say something to you, but there was never the right time. And then when you bumped into Sam, you looked so pleased to see him. So, I thought if I invited Sam to the party, and Richard came too, and you saw the two of us getting on, and you got on well with Sam–” Sophie was speaking so quickly that Lottie was struggling to keep up.
“You thought that if I started dating Richard’s best friend, it would be okay for him to date mine?” Lottie cut through Sophie’s nervous waffling and raised an eyebrow, unsure whether she was more sorry that Sophie had tried to manipulate her or that her friend seemed to genuinely have feelings for Richard.
Sophie nodded glumly. “I guess I did. Yes.”
“And that’s why you pushed so hard for this weekend? So you could treat Sam and I like a couple of puppets, get us dancing to your tune?”
“I know it was wrong. I know I should have just told you the truth. But… you like him, don’t you Lotts?”
Lottie looked down at her hands, remembering the way it felt when Sam wove his fingers around hers and stroked her palm, and nuzzled against her neck. “I thought I did. But now, all I’m thinking is that you orchestrated it. It wasn’t natural, like I thought it was… this whole time you were pushing us together.”
“Does that really matter? If you two–”
“Of course it matters!” Lottie stood up and waved her arms incredulously. “Can you really not see that, Sophie?”
Sophie blinked back tears and sniffed. But, this time, Lottie wasn’t backing down.
“You’re supposed to be my friend. My best friend.”
“I am. And, look, I didn’t just do this for me. It was for you too.”
“Really? How’d you figure that out?”
“You and Richard broke up ten years ago, Lottie. You need to move on.”
Lottie rolled her eyes and almost snorted. “Sophie, I couldn’t give a flying hoot about Richard.”
“Then why are you so upset about the thought of him and me being together?”
Lottie sighed and sat back down, leaning her elbows on her knees and trying to figure out how much she should say. She’d never told Sophie the real reason that she broke up with Richard the second time around, and Sophie obviously didn’t know what had happened this morning in the studio. “Sophie. There’s a lot you don’t know about mine and Richard’s break up. And–”
“Like what? What don’t I know?”
Lottie shook her head, searching Sophie’s face and feeling utterly torn. “If you’re serious about him, then you need to ask him about it. And ask him what happened this morning.”
Sophie frowned. “This morning?”
Lottie looked away and clenched her fingers in her lap.
“Lottie? What happened this morning?”
“Okay, I know you won’t want to hear this and you might not even believe it. But, despite everything, you’re my friend. So, I’m just going to say it and you can make up your own mind.”
Sophie swallowed hard and blinked nervously.
“Richard cheated on me in our second year, you know that. But what you don’t know is that he also cheated on me after we got back together. He persuaded me he’d changed, I went back to him, we moved in together after graduation, and three weeks later I caught him in bed with our neighbour.”
Sophie shook her head and sighed. “You never told me that.”
“I was embarrassed. I felt like an idiot for taking him back and letting it happen all over again.” Lottie stood up and went to sit at the other end of the couch, turning her body so she was facing Sophie and trying to make her see that she was being earnest. “The reason I didn’t want to see Richard wasn’t because I’m still in love with him, it was because he makes me feel utterly powerless. He’s a bully. And he knows exactly how to get under my skin.”
“I’m sorry, Lotts.” Finally, Sophie looked as if she might understand.
“I was almost willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and see if he’d changed. But the way he behaved yesterday, and then this morning…” She looked away, hopi
ng Sophie would just accept what she’d said and that would be the end of it all.
“What happened this morning Lottie?” Sophie said sternly.
“Richard tried to kiss me. He came in here, half naked, in a towel. And he started spouting all this stuff about how he knew he was a jerk and had behaved badly. And then he lunged at me.” Lottie shook her head and shuddered as she remembered it.
Sophie’s face was eerily still.
“I pushed him off and told him to leave, but Sam was standing outside and he saw us and thought…”
“That’s why Sam left in such a hurry.”
Lottie sniffed. “I thought he was going to tell me he liked me,” she said, quietly.
“Oh Lotts.” Sophie grabbed Lottie’s hand and pulled her closer. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been such an idiot.”
Lottie was crying, and then Sophie was crying too. And for a moment they just sat, hugging and crying.
When Sophie pulled away, she wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand and said, “Do you think you can forgive me?” Sophie’s eyes were wide and pleading, but Lottie shook her head. Usually she’d say, Of course, and everything would go back to normal. But usually their arguments were small, insignificant. This was much bigger.
“I need some time, Soph.”
“But, you will? Eventually?”
“I hope so. I really hope so.”
11
THREE DAYS LATER
Lottie had stayed on her couch for two whole days, eating leftover biscuits and chocolates, and drinking tea with no milk because she’d run out and couldn’t bear the idea of leaving the cottage to go get more.
On the third day, she woke up with Duke wedged in beside her. Her back was stiff and her neck twitched painfully when she tried to turn it.
“I think that’s enough sleeping on the couch, Duke.” She stood up, folded the blankets and shook her arms and legs, wriggling off some tension. “Enough feeling sorry for ourselves. We’ve got the exhibition at the weekend.”
Plodding slowly to the bottom of the stairs, Lottie sighed and placed a steadying hand on the banister. For the hundredth time since Sam had left, she felt like she might cry. Oh Lottie, get a grip, she muttered to herself. It had been one weekend – one weekend and one kiss – and yet she felt like a teenager with a broken heart.
Sophie and Richard, and whatever was going on between them, had shifted to the back of her mind. But the one thing she couldn’t shift was the thought of Sam. What was he going to say to her, before he saw Richard and assumed the worst? Had she been imagining the way he looked at her? Or the tone in his voice when he said he’d love nothing more than to come back at the weekend and see her artwork in the gallery?
Lottie took out her phone and prodded it with her index finger. Twenty unread WhatsApp messages from Sophie. Nothing from Sam.
Sighing, she shoved it back into her pyjama pocket and trudged up the stairs. She needed to snap out of this tearful daze she was stuck in and get her paintings ready for the show. But first, she needed to clean. Cleaning always helped. Clean house, clean mind, that’s what her grandmother would have said.
She began by deflating Richard’s air mattress and bundling it back into its box. Then started stripping the sheets off the beds. The door to the guest room where Sam had slept was closed. For a moment, she considered leaving it. No one would be coming to stay any time soon, so what did it matter? But then she heard her grandmother’s voice saying, For heaven’s sake Charlotte, don’t leave until tomorrow what you can do today. And she forced herself to go inside.
As soon as she opened the door, the heady scent of Sam’s cologne invaded her nostrils. Her skin tingled as she remembered breathing him in when they sat beside the fire – the closeness of him, the soft brush of his lips against hers.
Duke pushed past her and jumped up onto the bed, sticking his butt playfully into the air and wagging his tail.
Lottie smiled and sat down beside him, then nuzzled into his fur. “How come you always know how to make me feel better?”
When she looked up, she noticed something on the dresser: a small blue envelope. She’d almost forgotten about the gift he’d never given her.
Lottie picked it up and turned it over in her hands. It was bulkier than a birthday card would usually be, and bigger. It wasn’t sealed.
Opening the curtains and standing by the window, she slowly folded back the top of it and pulled out the card inside. Instantly, she recognised it. It was a piece of artwork from one of the first books she’d illustrated. It had won an award, and the publishers had released a series of gift items to celebrate – cards, canvas bags, cushions, teddies.
Inside, there was a small piece of notepaper, folded neatly in half, hand-written, and two larger sheets that had been typed. She unfolded the small piece first.
Dear Lottie,
Happy Birthday. I bought this beautiful card after you won your award. I was so proud of you. I showed it to pretty much everyone I knew, and it’s been in my office ever since. In a frame on my desk.
That probably sounds strange – how can you be proud of someone you haven’t seen for so long?
I hope the enclosed pieces of paper will help to explain.
Sam x
Lottie’s hands were shaking. She glanced at Duke. He was sitting very, very still and looking at her as if to say, Go on, read it.
Date: 1st July 2008
Today’s the day. I’m going to tell her. A few months ago, I thought I’d never get around to it. But now I think she’s actually finally over him. And Richard’s definitely moved on. I saw him with Caroline Smythe yesterday in Jumping Jack’s, and I guess that was the push I needed to make me certain.
Before, I felt so guilty. He’s my best friend and Lottie’s his ex. But I loved her before he did. Actually, I’d never say this to Lottie, but I’m not sure he ever has loved her. The way he talks to her sometimes makes me so mad. But I loved her almost the second I saw her. Now, I think about it and I just cringe at how shy I was. It feels like so long ago – our first year – and I’m different now. Back then, I was this scared eighteen-year-old who’d never had a girlfriend or even really spoken to a girl properly before.
But now, I feel like I’m ready to be the guy Lottie deserves. So, tonight I’m going to tell her. I’ve got it all planned out. Sophie’s planned this huge farewell party to celebrate the end of our final exams and leaving Durham, so it’s perfect. I’m going to set everything up at the bottom of the garden – candles, champagne, music – and after we’ve had a couple of drinks – not too many because I don’t want to be drunk – I’ll ask her to go down there with me and I’ll tell her.
Wish me luck!
Lottie’s fingers were gripping the piece of paper so tightly that it was beginning to crumple in her hands. Kneeling down, she smoothed it out on the floor in front of her and read it again.
She read it three times, each time picking it up and turning it over as if there was a missing piece and repeating to herself, Sam loved me. Sam loved me. Sam loved me. But he never told me. All this time. He never told me.
12
In the car, half way down the motorway and approaching the outskirts of London, Lottie realised she was wearing odd shoes. Both were black low-heeled boots. But one was smooth and shiny and the other was scuffed and muddy from dog walking.
Chewing her lower lip, she banged her fist on the steering wheel. She hadn’t put on makeup. She hadn’t brushed her hair. She’d just shoved on whatever clothes had been nearest, grabbed Duke and got in the car.
And now she was heading into Central London with no clue where she was going to park the car or where Sam would be.
It was Wednesday, so he should be at work. But what if he wasn’t? Or what if he was, and he took one look at her and realised he’d made a horrible mistake?
Or what if she’d completely misunderstood and, rather than a confession of undying love, he’d simply left her a very sweet birthday card with
an excerpt from his ten-year-old university journal. He had loved her then. But maybe she was reading it totally out of context. Maybe he’d meant to present it to her face-to-face as nothing more than some kind of sweet memento. How amusing. I used to be in love with you. What a funny story.
Lottie breathed in sharply through her nose and tried to slow down the clamour of thoughts in her head. One step at a time, Lottie. One step at a time.
Google Maps took her to somewhere that was supposed to be close to Sam’s office – a poorly lit underground carpark that cost fifteen pounds an hour. Emerging onto the street, she had absolutely no idea where she was. The map said Sam’s company offices should be located somewhere around here, but all she could see was run down corner shops and pubs. So she pulled Duke close, walked to the least scary looking one, and asked for directions.
“You’re at the wrong end of the street, love. Walk that way for about fifteen minutes and you’ll start getting to the fancy part.” The barman chuckled and shook his head.
As she walked, for much longer than fifteen minutes, Lottie clutched her phone and tried to figure out what on Earth she was going to say if she did manage to come face-to-face with Sam.
Finally, she reached his building. The giant, shiny, very very expensive looking building where Sam worked. Standing below it, she looked up. He’d be in there, dressed in his crisp navy suit, earning his lots-and-lots of money. His life was so different from hers and, suddenly, she felt completely ridiculous.
In a haze, she walked to a nearby bench, sat down, and put her head in her hands. She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there when Duke nuzzled into her hand and made a throaty row-row noise.
Lottie ruffled his ears. “I’m sorry boy. It’s freezing out here isn’t it? Let’s go home.”
The True Love Travels Series Box Set Page 60
