A Wedding in the Sun

Chapter 18

Jo wasn’t so sure about putting her wellbeing into Adrián’s hands ten minutes later, when he hauled her out of the car and marched her down the street, his arm around her. But her legs were still wobbly and she admitted – only to herself – that she needed the support.

He’d shoved his bag and the rest of the rapidly warming drinks into her backpack and slung it over his good shoulder, shepherding her immediately into the shady part of the road where the towering stone pines protected them from the sun.

When they rounded the next corner, Jo’s breath caught. Adrián peered at her in alarm, but she smiled, gesturing ahead to the sandy cove of glistening silver-blue water. He made a brusque comment, as though she should have known where they were going, and propelled her forward. She didn’t need any further motivation to head for the water.

He sat her down on the edge of the boardwalk to slip the straps of her sandals through their buckles, batting her hand away when she tried to take over. She noticed with alarm that he’d taken the sling off and had a vague memory of him ripping the Velcro open with his teeth.

She should protest, insist she could look after herself, but she didn’t. She soaked up the firm touch, the gruff tenderness of his hands – or ‘hand’, as he still favoured his left. Her thoughts were caught up and when she really should have objected, it seemed suddenly too late and she found herself pushed down into the water, clothing and all.

‘Wait, what? What are you?—’

That was when she realised the sea felt absolutely heavenly. A gentle wave lapped at her arms – blessedly cool. The lingering cramps in her stomach loosened almost immediately. Water soaked up the bodice of her dress, bringing relief, and she cupped her hands in the clear sea to splash her face with a happy groan.

Water trickled down the back of her neck, then Adrián’s cool hand followed. She glanced behind her to see him gathering more water in his hands. His gaze focused, he dribbled the water over her shoulders, brushing his hand over her skin. Jo gulped, assailed by a new weakness that had nothing to do with dehydration. She swayed backwards towards him.

She felt lightheaded again, but not faint as he settled in the water behind her, encouraging her to lean back on him. She shouldn’t have, but she did and it was wonderful. Her head lolled against his collarbone and she melted in a much more pleasant way than she had in the stifling Corsa an hour ago.

Breathing slowly in and out, she took in the greenish blue of the water at the edges of the bay, the clear bubbly waves around her and Adrián, the deep blue of the Mediterranean as it stretched out towards France and Italy. Headlands enclosed the protected cove, weathered and pockmarked brown rock, criss-crossed with crevices. Trees and bushes, from dark pines to the apple-green crowns of Mediterranean oaks fanned out on top of the rocks, interspersed with houses on the hills.

She never wanted to move – and not because she was tired. The lethargy had faded, leaving in its place a moment of stillness she hadn’t realised she’d craved.

Adrián’s arm snaked around her waist, holding her against him. She felt his breath against her forehead as he rested his chin there. His other arm floated in the water next to her, his hand drifting over her thigh but not touching down.

Studying his hand, with the blunt fingers from pressing guitar strings for thirty years and the brush of black hair on the back, she marvelled that it was no longer simply ‘not Ben’s hand’. It was Adrián’s hand – familiar. Reaching out, she pressed her palm to the back and slipped her fingers between his. His thumb came up to brush hers in return.

She stared at their joined hands through the rippling water and wondered at all the awful things that had brought her here to this beautiful bay – to this beautiful hand in hers.

‘I can’t believe… I might not have seen this place if…’

‘If you hadn’t vomited on the dashboard?’

Jo grinned, glancing back to find him also watching their hands, his thumb now stroking continually along hers. His joke should have shattered the softness between them, but Jo still felt alarmingly mushy. ‘If I hadn’t drunk too much last night.’

‘If the guitar hadn’t got on the wrong flight,’ he joined in.

‘If we’d landed in Zaragoza instead of Lourdes,’ she added, her voice trailing off as her thoughts became dangerous. ‘If Ben and Mónica hadn’t decided to get married,’ she added, her heart beating in a warped rhythm.

Adrián turned his face to hers, his lips a breath from her cheek. ‘You’re still here,’ he said quietly – an observation.

‘I’m here, in this moment,’ she repeated with a laugh. ‘With you,’ she added daringly. His arm tightened around her. ‘We aren’t going to get back in that car and head south tonight, are we?’

‘I don’t think that would be wise,’ he agreed, his rasping voice peppering over her skin. ‘We could get some food at that beach bar,’ he said, pointing behind them. ‘We probably shouldn’t stay in the sun much longer.’

‘Even a beach bar might not appreciate us turning up with our clothes soaked in seawater,’ Jo pointed out, settling comfortably against him. ‘Let’s find a hotel and clean up. I hope we have one presentable outfit each.’

‘Shit, I don’t think I have any underwear,’ he said.

Feeling young and frivolous and full of butterflies and not caring at all, Jo burrowed closer, enjoying the way his hands settled casually on her body. ‘I’m sure that won’t be a problem.’

His lips twitched. ‘I used them all to clean up your vomit,’ he pointed out.

She pulled away again with a groan, her hands full of his shirt. ‘Are you trying to spoil the moment?’

He shook his head, gazing at her with a light in his eyes she was beginning to recognise. ‘No, I’m just proving that nothing will spoil this moment.’ He stood and held out his hand to pull her up. The strength had returned to her legs and her head was clear. ‘Come on, Jo. Let’s get you out of the sun.’

Jo’s finger hovered between the icon for the messaging app and the one for making phone calls. Liss and Dec had both written asking when she’d arrive. Ben had sent clipped instructions about parking at the hotel. She was glad to hear they’d survived the trip in the heatwave at least and she needed to let them know about her own mishap.

But she set her phone down again on the bedside table in the small hotel room and gazed out of the sliding doors instead of sending that message.

She missed her kids. She needed to get to this wedding to support them, to work through any last-minute feelings. But right now she was here, staring at the glistening sea and the jagged fingers of rock jutting out into the water, the patches of turquoise, hints of white waves and dark shoals – and listening to Adrián hum inconsistently in the shower, singing a line occasionally of a song she didn’t recognise.

She was definitely here.

When the door of the bathroom slid open five minutes later to reveal her travelling companion in his jeans and nothing else, there were few places Jo could think of that she’d rather be – despite that silly gold chain.

‘Better?’ he asked her, peering into her face.

She nodded, lifting her chin for him to grasp with soft fingers as he studied her face. ‘Hydrated, cool. Everything’s okay now.’

‘Good,’ he said, his voice deep and raspy and skittering over her skin.

Then kiss me. She wasn’t quite brave enough to blurt that out. Instead, she took a deep breath and said, ‘And I’m not drunk.’

‘Hmm?’

‘I know exactly what I’m doing,’ she confirmed. ‘Completely in my right mind.’

His Adam’s apple bobbed as his gaze lifted sharply to hers. ‘What— What are you doing?’

She’d rather hoped he might get the hint, but she also appreciated the importance of full disclosure and open communication. Standing slowly, she looked him square in the face – no smile, no blush, no uncertainty – and said, ‘I’m about to kiss you.’

His eyes drifted closed and his breath whooshed out. ‘Good, because I need to kiss you back so badly.’

Jo remembered the frantic touches of the night before – even if her memories were fuzzy around the edges – but this first kiss wasn’t frantic. It was slow and emphatic and stubborn. The way he clutched the back of her cotton vest top and swallowed a groan etched itself into her.

‘Are we— Can we? Do you want to—’ he murmured as his lips skimmed across her cheek to close just below her ear.

She looped her arms around his neck and came nearer. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes.’

‘I don’t have a condom,’ he pointed out with an adorably earnest expression.

‘It’s okay,’ she reassured him. ‘I have an IUD and…’

His lips twitched. ‘It’s been a long time for both of us.’ His palm ranged up her back and down again, down further. He bit his lip. ‘I hope this isn’t bad.’

‘It might be,’ she said, sharing his smile. ‘But I’m willing to give it a try.’

His mouth met hers again, this time with a taste of the urgency of the night before. She grasped his face in both of her hands, wallowing in the kiss, in how good it felt – how good she felt.

He groaned her name as she pressed kisses to his face. ‘I’m more than willing, Jo,’ he rasped, his good hand tight on her body.

It might not have been the airbrushed, tumble-into-twisted-sheets, glimpses-of-taut-bellies, Hollywood film sex. There was some stopping and starting, a few amused smiles and a grimace or two when they forgot about Adrián’s shoulder. But they got there – somewhere Jo had never expected to reach right now.

She hadn’t realised her body needed it. She would never have guessed how easy it could be to let Adrián enjoy her with his hands and mouth on her skin – how she would blossom under the touch. He kissed her and clutched her tight and burned her with those dark gazes of his that burrowed under her skin. Getting lost in the stolen moment with him dragged something secret into the light, something she didn’t have to hide. As he came apart in her arms, his expression tight and hot, she tumbled with him, tired and whole and languid with relief.