Chapter 53 Charlotte
Charlotte
On warm Friday nights, the village came together to watch the kids playing cricket.
Cole and I sat at the edge of the green, drinking tea from polystyrene cups.
Tiff and I had played on the junior cricket team for years.
Dad had watched every practice session and match.
I sat with my back against a tall oak and my sketch pad in my lap.
Cole tipped his face down and his eyes locked with mine. “Are you sure this is my good side?”
“Both sides are equally lovely. I just need you to keep still and hold back on the death glare.”
The lines at the corner of his eyes crinkled with amusement, and I sketched them in.
I’d been learning every new line in his perfect face since he’d come back into my life.
Tiff was coming round later to read some more of the journals with me.
Reading them together was a new way of getting to know Dad.
I could forgive my father for sending Cole away because I understood his intentions were good.
If things had been different, maybe Cole and I would have never parted.
Maybe we would have. Who knew? History was important, but never a good place to dwell for too long. We had to live forward.
I took a deep breath. It felt good to get out of the house, away from the paint fumes, and breathe. We’d glossed the skirting boards today. That was the last big task. The house was almost ready. Cole must have been thinking about leaving here soon.
“I bet you’re itching to get back to work,” I said.
“No.” He ran his hand absently over the grass. “I haven’t missed it at all. The reasons I set up the company don’t interest me anymore.”
“You haven’t heard anything from your father?”
“No. I don’t care to bother him. I spoke to Gabe yesterday, and he’s going to hold on to the hotel. The meeting with my father made up his mind. He said it’s a good location for the squad to stay during training camps.”
On the cricket pitch, a little girl thwacked the ball. A fielder jumped in the air to catch it, but it slipped through her fingers.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do with the house yet?” he asked.
“I’m going to sell it. It’s a family home. Too big for me. It needs a family. Dad would have wanted that.”
Cole shot me a casual glance. “I’m thinking of extending my sabbatical. I’m actually considering early retirement.”
A warm rush ran through me. “You are? What will you do?”
His eyes clung to mine and shifted away. “I don’t know. I thought I might stay around here for a while.”
“In Ecclesdale?”
“It stands to reason. Big things are happening around here. I heard you have a Londis now.” He looked in the direction of the fields above the village where he’d kissed me all those years ago.
“Also, it makes me feel . . . free. I was happy here when I was younger. It still feels like home. I’d love to have a little retreat around here.
” His voice was as soft as a kiss. “How would you feel if I stayed?”
I didn’t dare believe it. Cole couldn’t seriously leave London behind for the middle of nowhere. “I can’t make that decision for you.”
He tilted his head to mine. “You told me you wanted to move on. If you still want that, I respect it. I always want to be your friend. But I have to tell you that I am desperately and hopelessly in love with you, and there’s nothing I want more than for you to be my wife.
My real wife. I want to spend my life loving and cherishing you.
“I will never put anything before you. Not work. Not my grievances. Nothing. Making up for lost time with you is my only priority. I never want to go back to being a Thorner. I hope you will accept me as an Ackroyd.” He raised a wry eyebrow.
“Of course, you could just walk away with half my fortune, and I wouldn’t blame you. ”
I laughed. “I mean, it’s tempting. But I don’t want you for your money. You can’t put a price on me and you.”
His eyes dropped to my lips. “No. You can’t.”
“I’ve decided I’m going to edit your Wikipedia page.”
“Yeah?”
“Cole Ackroyd né Thorner is much less arsehole-ish these days.”
“Arsehole-ish is still not a word.” He trailed his thumb over his cheekbone. “But, you know, Roy would have said language is evolving all the time, so there’s no point being pedantic.”
I abandoned my sketch pad and crawled across the grass onto his lap.
I covered his mouth with mine and kissed him slow and deep.
“You should keep the house if you want,” he said. “You’re right. It needs a family. It would be ideal for ours.”
“Our family? What do you mean? Kids?”
He nodded. “If that’s what we want. Kids. All those dogs you wanted. They’ll be less inclined to eat you if we’re all there together.”
It wasn’t something I’d had much chance to think about, but with Cole, I could see it.
I gave him a playful punch on the arm. “You’d trade the big city for Ecclesdale?”
His eyes locked with mine. “No. I’d trade it for you. Everything I have. All of it. You’re all I want. All I’ve ever wanted.”
The sincerity in his voice made my heart melt. I kissed him again.
“Quos amor verus tenuit, tenebit,” he whispered against my lips.
“What?”
“The tattoo on my chest. ‘Those whom true love has held, it will go on holding.’ I got it when I first moved to New York. It gave me hope that one day we would find our way back to each other. I know it’s soppy—”
“It’s not.” I pressed my forehead to his. “It’s perfect.”
He glanced over my shoulder at the half-finished portrait in my sketch pad. “I hope you’re leaving enough room for my nose.”
“I love your nose. I love everything about you, Mr. Ackroyd.”
“You do?”
“I always have.” I rested my head on his shoulder. “I hope this means we get to go on another honeymoon?”
“Yes, Mrs. Ackroyd. Let’s never stop going on honeymoons. I want to take you everywhere. I’ve been thinking we should start with a safari.”
“Great idea.” I nudged him playfully in the side. “The rhinos get to thank their patron saint in person.”