Chapter 36 #2
Her knees were wobbly. Perhaps the waves had made her seasick. He’d come so close to telling her everything she wanted to hear. Her throat thick, she plonked onto the shingle and stared out to sea.
‘I read about this new tender your company won. It’s a big deal,’ she commented.
‘It was well-timed,’ he countered, his gaze still fixed on her.
‘Because you wanted to go back to the company?’
He eyed her as though she were being purposefully obtuse. Perhaps she was, but the words rising to her lips were too important to say until she was certain of their reception. ‘Not exactly. It was a way to be here without… expectations.’
‘You mean commitment?’
‘No,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘I’m here for the duration of the project, now, no matter what happens. They had planned to open an office in Bristol. I had to pay to break the lease, but it was a way to be here in case…’
‘In case what?’ She was this close to grabbing him and kissing him and to hell with the talking, but she had to be certain her heart wasn’t running away with itself.
He dropped down beside her, his forearms propped on his knees, his head hanging. ‘In case you ever think—’ He swallowed. ‘In case one day you want to— If you feel you can—’
‘If I stop loving Miro?’
He flinched at her words. ‘No,’ he answered immediately. ‘I respect that love you have for him too much. I thought maybe…’
‘Maybe what? That I might find a way to love both of you?’ She kept her tone as even as possible, wondering if he’d see the truth.
He didn’t see it. Poor Gabri always put others first. ‘I’m not expecting you to change anything overnight.
’ His look was grave and tender and a little bit miserable and she wanted to grasp his shoulders and shake him.
This was her present – maybe her future.
Their future. ‘Andreas said you were visiting that place – his ashes – and that’s what you feel, so it’s okay. I’m still here.’
‘You’re just here to be a friend to me in my continuing grief, avoid Cillian, go windsurfing sometimes?’ she asked lightly.
His gaze shot up. ‘I hope not! For the love of God, I know it’s complicated, but I’m here because I still somehow believe I have a chance with you! The way we connected on the island is something special. You woke up something inside me, Toni – you and Cillian.’
‘Children are a lot of stress and worry,’ she reminded him sarcastically.
‘Because they mean so much to us,’ he declared in reply. ‘I realise I was a cowardly idiot for five years of my life. I don’t know anything about children, but Cilli isn’t just anyone. He’s your son.’
‘Why does that make any difference?’
He threw his hands up. ‘It makes all the difference, because I love you!’
Everything inside Toni went still, settling into place and breathing out with the relief of coming home. He’d actually said it. He felt it. He was here, now – for her.
‘I did all of this for you,’ he muttered. ‘You don’t have to say anything – or feel anything. I’ll be here. There’s nowhere else I want to—’
She laughed then, her heart so full and his confusion so earnest that she wanted to frame the moment.
Leaning her head on his shoulder, she looped her arms around him.
‘I’m sorry I waved my situation in front of you like a red cape.
It’s so… you… to be concerned for me like this. And that’s what I love about you.’
He peered down at her, his eyes blinking rapidly. ‘What did you say?’
‘Tell me again and then I’ll tell you why I went to Portland this week – and then maybe it’s time we get to the kissing.’
Toni looked so wonderful when she smiled, even more when she said the word ‘kissing’ with a playful twist of her lips.
‘What do you want me to tell you again?’ he asked. It seemed he was several steps behind her and struggling to catch up.
She answered just with an inviting lift of her eyebrows.
‘That I love you?’ he clarified.
She raised a hand to his cheek, brushing her thumb over his moustache and then up to his forehead, smoothing the lines that were doubtless crinkled deeply up there, after she’d vexed him so much.
‘Mmhmm,’ she confirmed.
‘I love you,’ he said immediately. ‘That’s not the difficult part, amore. I love you,’ he repeated for good measure.
She turned to face him, her legs crossed. ‘If it’s not difficult, why did it take you so long to say it?’
‘Because without actions, it was just words – words I wasn’t sure you were ready to hear.’
She was silent for a moment, considering him with a light in her eyes. God, he loved how she studied him. ‘Two thistles,’ she murmured thoughtfully. ‘We both have our spines.’ Hauling herself to her feet, she held up a hand. ‘Give me a minute; I need something from my car.’
It was the longest minute of his life. When she returned holding that thistle, a cloth bag over her shoulder, he was both dismayed at the futility of his own gesture and hopeful that she understood his meaning.
‘Does this represent our thorny situation?’ she asked.
‘Perhaps. Thistles can have many meanings, from isolation and solitude to perseverance and… devotion. Mostly, it just reminded me of you.’
She dropped to her knees next to him and opened her mouth to speak. ‘I thought of you as a thistle at one stage,’ she said with a wobbly smile. ‘“Don’t touch the thistle,” you said. You weren’t ready for the way we fell in love so quickly.’
She handed him the crunchy stem of the flower and rummaged in her bag. He held his breath to see what she’d produce.
It was another thistle. ‘I discovered this interesting thing about thistles,’ she continued. ‘They have some very serious defence mechanisms to keep people away.’
‘To keep insects away,’ he corrected her.
‘And people,’ she said emphatically. ‘We’re both thistles: hurt and closed off and pessimistic about love.’
‘I can see that,’ he agreed.
‘But look at this,’ she said softly.
She took the thistle from his hand and brought the two together until the spines on the flower heads came into contact, then intermeshed. Then she let one stem go.
‘They stick together,’ she pointed out. ‘Two thistles don’t prick each other. They fit together. We both have spines, but that doesn’t mean we don’t belong together.’
Her words were so far from what he’d expected to hear that they didn’t make sense for several moments. He’d expected a long wait before she was open to more than friendship, but here she was, coaxing him into a relationship that would mean everything in his life.
He stared at the interconnected flowers, the mess of spines that only seemed to hold them more firmly against each other. A thistle was the perfect flower for Toni, also representing courage, protection and dignity. He just needed to be brave enough to believe her.
‘I was trying to be sensible about this – about us,’ he mumbled.
‘I don’t want sensible,’ she said, choking on a laugh. ‘I love you too, Gabri. I thought you knew that. Yes, I’ll always love Miro in some way, but I love you too. Just as much.’
There had never been so much meaning in, I love you too. It was perfect – not perfect, but genuine. He loved her for the way she’d held onto her husband’s memory – the way she seemed to think she’d hold onto him – spines out to protect him.
His throat closed as the enormity of her confession washed over him.
‘Are you sure? I love you too much to—’
‘Yes,’ she said, swiping tears from her eyes even as she smiled at him.
‘I went to Portland yesterday because something has already changed, even though I might not have wanted it at first. I did hold on too long to the life that never was, with Miro, but now I want this life – with you. I wanted it before I ever suspected you might come here. I was ready to think of all sorts of solutions, because the practical stuff isn’t as important. ’
‘But Cilli – we have to be here.’
She dropped the thistles onto the beach and slung her arms around his neck.
‘I love that in this, you were the practical one and I lost my head,’ she whispered before planting a soft kiss on his lips.
‘Oh, trust me, I’ve lost my head too,’ he replied, kissing her back, more deeply this time. ‘My heart, actually,’ he murmured against her lips.
‘I do trust you,’ she assured him under her breath. ‘With everything. Moving here was only one of the ways you’ve earned it. But there’s just one problem.’
He drew back with a frown. ‘Hmm?’
‘There are no turtles in Weymouth. Cilli really wants to see those turtles.’
Tugging her close with a chuckle, he smoothed her hair and squeezed her tight. ‘Then he shall see the turtles.’