Chapter Fifteen
LUCAS
Finishing work had become my favourite part of the day since moving to Doughnut just under three weeks ago.
It had been a time I’d dreaded when I lived in London, especially while Aster was away. At work, I was competent and efficient, I felt valued and time flew as different animals padded through my examination room door.
After work, I’d returned to the house I’d shared with my mum, who had devised creative ways to show off her readiness for her adult son to move out.
When Aster was in London my evenings were enlivened by seeing him, but while he was on Doughnut I’d sat in my bedroom alone, waiting for his next call while Mum practised her trumpet in the next room.
Since moving to Doughnut, I wouldn’t say my social life was thriving, but I certainly had friends beyond the bestie who stole half my cookie when we were five and had been stealing significant portions of my food ever since.
Bonnie and Joshua regularly invited me for delicious meals at their cottage, even when Callum and Aster couldn’t make it down for undisclosed reasons I was later assured were humping related.
Captain Errol nodded at me when I walked past his boat and Louisa demanded my opinions on the latest TV shows she was bingeing.
My whistling bounced off the walls of the narrow alley as I locked up the surgery. All of that was good, but something even better painted a smile across my face each time I said goodbye to my last patient of the day.
Kit.
Depending on when I finished work, he would be chatting with customers in his bookshop or scowling as he counted the day’s takings, humming as he stirred something on the stove upstairs or snuggled up with Kat and a puzzle on the sofa.
I’d finished early enough today that Kit would still be down in the bookshop.
I exchanged casual greetings with the people I passed during the short walk between the surgery and Island Books, but none of them waylaid me to ask for out-of-hours pet advice.
Word spread quickly on Doughnut. I suspected the gossip about the new vet was that if you bothered him when you didn’t have an appointment, the nice man from the bookshop would ask you to go away with such gentle persistence that you had no choice but to obey.
The bell over the door rang as I stepped inside. I’d just cleared the dinosaur/dragon window display when Kit rushed over from behind the counter and threw himself into my arms. Being the person he was least afraid to be physically affectionate with gave me a weird sense of pride.
‘I love it when you’re happy to see me,’ I mumbled into today’s scarf; dark purple with tiny yellow stars. Even my continuing inability to say normal things around Kit couldn’t dampen my good mood. I looped my arms around his waist and breathed deep of his bookish-tinged warmth.
‘I have incredible news,’ Kit said close to my ear.
He’d turned his head to speak. As he stepped back, his lips brushed across my cheek.
My stomach swooped. In a good way. Like when you drive a car over the top of a hill and for a second you feel like you’re flying.
For no known reason, my cheeks flamed. My heartbeat kicked into overdrive and sweat prickled down my spine.
Kit’s lips were as soft as I’d imagined they’d be.
They parted slightly as he stared while I had some weird crisis over his mouth being near to me for less than a second. Blush that was nowhere near as bright as mine tinged his cheeks. His brown eyes widened.
I stepped back. Space between us felt important. I wished I hadn’t when Kit frowned, but I needed to breathe air that wasn’t so close to him.
I adopted what I hoped was a perfectly normal smile. ‘You have news?’
Kit blinked, like he’d forgotten the reason he’d been giddy moments before.
‘Um, yeah.’ He swallowed, then the corners of his mouth ticked upwards.
‘Yeah, I do.’ He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and brandished a folded letter at me.
‘Island Books has been nominated for the Indie Book Awards.’
I hadn’t heard of them, but Kit didn’t have to explain that this was a big deal. His smile had returned to full volume after my weird interlude. He bounced up to the toes of his boots as he unfolded the letter.
‘Enough people nominated Island Books to get it straight onto the longlist.’ His eyes darted back and forth as he read.
‘To get through to the next stage, I have to make a video explaining what’s special about this bookshop, and I have to take loads of pictures they can use to promote it.
’ Kit lowered the letter and breathed deep.
‘Even if the shop doesn’t get through to the shortlist, the attention we’ll get from being nominated is going to be such a boost.’
Kit hadn’t said anything, but a frown often creased his face as he counted up the day’s takings.
He wouldn’t sniff at the opportunity for more business.
I suspected only half of it was the extra sales the award would bring in, though.
The other half would probably be the thought of all the new readers who would enjoy his books.
Touching Kit had become so natural over the last couple of weeks that I didn’t think before stepping back into his space and reaching for the hand not gripping the nomination letter.
As soon as his fingers linked through mine, a weird jolt of energy sprung up my arm. I kind of wanted to tighten my hold, to spread my thumb over Kit’s palm and across the delicate skin of his wrist, but the feeling was so alien that I flinched away on instinct.
For the second time today, I’d wiped the joy from Kit’s face. He stared at me, his teeth digging into his lower lip.
I wanted to press my thumb there, feel his hot breath on my hand.
I was saved from doing or saying anything so embarrassing that even Kit wouldn’t be able to handle it by the opening bars of Single Ladies chiming from my pocket. Mum made me change her ringtone when the divorce was finalised.
‘I’ve got to take this.’
I didn’t look at Kit’s face, sure he would figure out I was having weird fantasies about pushing my thumbs into various parts of his anatomy if I looked him in the eye. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I rushed out of the shop.
‘Hey, Mum.’ I walked over to the seawall, putting as much distance between myself and Kit as possible without hurling myself into the ocean or running off into the mountains.
‘I’m glad you called.’ She didn’t need to know my gratitude was for extracting me from an awkward social situation entirely of my own making rather than purely because I missed her. ‘What’s up?’
‘Everything’s fine,’ she said.
Immediately, all thoughts of my weirdness in Kit’s bookshop fled. No one said everything was fine if everything was actually fine.
‘What’s wrong?’
Mum sighed and for the first time since I’d moved to Doughnut, I sincerely wished I was hundreds of miles south where we could have this conversation face to face and I could give her the cuddle she clearly needed.
‘Your father’s been in touch.’
I turned to sit on the seawall, all the strength abandoning my legs.
I could hear shuffling on the line, like Mum had sat down too.
I could imagine her; the wild hair I’d inherited fluffing around her face where she’d run her hands through it too many times, sitting on the sofa we’d chosen together on a trip to IKEA Aster had gate-crashed to satisfy his meatball fix.
‘How much does he want this time?’
Ever since Mum had finally ousted Dad, he’d randomly called to demand whatever he decided we owed him. The amounts of money varied, depending on how much he’d been able to earn before he was booted from another job when they realised what a total shit he was.
‘That doesn’t matter.’ Mum’s voice dropped the slow sadness that came over her whenever we talked about Dad. ‘He doesn’t have your number, but if he does manage to get in touch with you, you’re not to give him anything.’
I didn’t reply. We both knew that if Dad messaged me on my private Instagram or hunted down the phone number of the vet’s surgery on Doughnut, I’d transfer the money. He was like a hound with a scent; he’d keep nipping and barking until one of us gave in or he spotted easier prey.
I’d long abandoned the belief that if I gave Dad what he needed, he might reciprocate.
He wasn’t interested in anyone other than himself.
Where Mum chose to stand up to him, I walked the path of least resistance.
It wasn’t just that I was terrible at saying no to anyone, even walking turds.
It was more that the sooner I gave in, the sooner Dad pissed off and we could go back to pretending he didn’t exist.
‘I hope he wasn’t too horrible.’
Mum hummed. ‘Not too bad. I hung up when I realised it was him, but he managed to leave a voicemail before I blocked his number. Such a pleasant message.’
Mum wasn’t as bad as me, but when she debriefed her friends about this later, they would berate her for even listening to his voicemail.
She brightened as she told me about the new additions she’d made to the craft room that used to be my bedroom and the film she’d watched at the cinema with Aster’s dad.
Aster had harboured not-so-secret wishes that Harry and my mum would get married and we would truly be brothers for most of our teenage years.
He’d calmed down in his twenties, but I wouldn’t mention this cinema trip for fear it would reawaken the beast.