Chapter 22
Abby
A short distance away Abby sat on the beach with Tristan, staring out across the ocean. It was late and apart from a few stray
couples in the distance and one lonely runner, they had the place to themselves.
After the turmoil of the morning and the conversation with her mother, she’d somehow made it through the day and then she’d
grabbed her towel and headed straight to the beach to indulge in her new favourite pastime. Swimming in the sea.
She’d swum until her limbs were as tired as the rest of her, until her skin felt salty and tight. She thought how much she
preferred swimming in the sea to the sanitised, thermoregulated indoor pool in her apartment building back home. It was like
comparing cycling outdoors with an exercise bike. The real thing versus a poor imitation.
Tristan had insisted on joining her, shadowing her with his powerful crawl even though she kept telling him she was fine in the water. But she was pleased he was with her. His presence brought her a comfort she hadn’t even known she needed.
Now they were sitting on a small curve of sand sheltered by rocks, not quite a cave but offering enough privacy for their
conversation.
“That’s quite a story,” Tristan said when she finished telling him what had happened. “I’m not sure which part to react to
first.”
“I feel the same way.” She rubbed her damp hair with a towel. “You know they always say be careful what you wish for? I really
wanted to know more about my past, and now I know and honestly, I’m not sure that I wouldn’t have preferred to carry on in
blissful ignorance.”
“You’re not upset that your mother didn’t tell you sooner?”
She draped the towel around her shoulders. “No. I’m grateful to her. Thanks to her I didn’t grow up with a ton of psychological
baggage that would have cost me a fortune in therapy.” And even now it hadn’t really sunk in. All those revelations were balanced
on the surface of her, not sinking deep. The whole story felt detached from her, and in a way it was, of course. It hadn’t
been part of her life. Until now.
“Still, it’s a lot to deal with.”
“Yes.” She couldn’t believe what she’d witnessed in Evie’s office that morning, and she couldn’t believe all the things her
mother had told her. “It turns out I’m descended from a series of truly pathetic men. Ugh.”
“If you want to cry on my shoulder, feel free.”
“Cry? Why would I cry? That would make me pathetic.”
He cleared his throat. “I was assuming that with all those pathetic genes swirling around inside you, you might—”
“Fortunately for me I also inherited my mother’s genes. They are dominant. So no, I won’t be crying on your shoulder anytime
soon.”
“Right. Good to know. I’ll just have to find another reason to get you to lean on my shoulder.”
She turned to look at him.
“I did that the other night, remember? You weren’t receptive.”
His gaze held hers. “That’s not quite how I remember it.”
Drops of water clung to his broad shoulders and his chest. His legs were as sandy as hers.
“Men have selective memories.”
“We’re poorly designed creatures, there’s no doubt about that.”
“Some more than others.” She thought of her grandfather, and also her father. “And some are plain faulty. The sort you’d take
back for a refund if they were a kettle or a toaster.”
“Hopefully in time, AI will invent a better model, then you won’t need us at all.”
“Interesting idea. As long as no one trains the AI model using the characteristics of the males in my family.” They were bantering,
lobbing words back and forth, while underneath something deeper shimmered. Something delicious and dangerous.
Unsettled, she tugged the damp towel from her shoulders and folded it. “Do you think her father felt even a flicker of remorse
at the way he behaved?”
“You mean your grandfather?”
“There is nothing grand about him, and he wasn’t much of a father either so no.” She shrugged. “I can’t think of him as my
grandfather. Family is important, I’ve always believed that, but so is self-preservation.”
“From what you’ve told me there didn’t seem to be remorse. Denial, maybe. You don’t think your mother intends to stay in touch
with him then?”
“No.” She was absolutely sure about that and once again she admired her mother’s strength.
He sat up and put his hand on her shoulder. “Do you want to go back? Take a shower and grab some dinner?”
If she did that the evening would be over and she didn’t want it to be over. She wanted to stay here, with him, staring out across the sea. She could happily have stayed like this for the rest of her life.
“No, I’m too wound up. My head is racing. And anyway, I like being by the ocean. I find it soothing.”
“You live by the ocean.”
“It’s not like this.” She sat up and looped her arms round her knees, gazing out across the sea as the setting sun sent orange
and red streaks across the sky.
She felt his shoulder brush against hers and she turned to look at him.
“You don’t have to stay. I’m sure you have things to do. More important things than playing lifeguard.”
“That’s not why I’m here. And if you’re staying, I’m staying.”
I’m staying.
It could have been just kindness of course, but she knew it was more than that. And he knew it, too. She could see it in his
eyes.
The strength of their attraction was something she hadn’t ever felt before. She was careful and thoughtful in her decision
making but with him she wanted to abandon both care and thought.
She felt shaky and strange, unbalanced by all the revelations about her life. It all seemed unreal, but this—he—felt real.
“How was your day? I haven’t even asked.”
“It was less eventful than yours.” He wiped a droplet of water away from her face with the tip of his finger. “Fairly typical
day. My dad went for physio which means he was cranky and needed someone to take it out on.”
“Ouch.”
“But despite that, he’s improving. He even admitted it.”
“That’s good. Does that mean he’ll eventually come back to work?”
“I don’t think so. He was aiming for that but today he almost admitted that he’s enjoying living life at a slower pace.”
“So what does that mean for you?”
“I guess it means I’ll be hanging around here for the foreseeable future,” he said. “How about you? Now that you’re no longer
under-cover, does this mean you’re going back? You won’t be staying for the whole summer?”
There was a strange feeling inside her. That was another thing she hadn’t allowed herself to consider, but sooner or later
she was going to have to.
“I assume so. My mother sent me here for a specific purpose and that’s no longer needed, so yes—I’ll be going back.”
There was a long pause.
“And how do you feel about that?”
It was a good question.
She felt as if she was balanced between two versions of her life. Until a few weeks ago she hadn’t even known there was another
version. She hadn’t had the wit to imagine it, and yet here she was not only imagining it but living it.
She could go back, she would go back, but that didn’t mean things would be the same. Things would never be the same. It was as if someone had cut her
strings, the strings that had tethered her to the life she was living and now she was floating free.
“I don’t want to leave, that’s the truth. But I have a whole life there, and this was only ever supposed to be for the summer
season.”
“Summer is great here, but winter is even better. More locals. We’re a tight-knit community. Wild cliff walks, hot chocolate
in front of a roaring log fire.”
“Stop! We’re in the middle of a heatwave and I can’t think about log fires and hot chocolate.” But she felt a yearning inside her that she didn’t fully understand. “But you’ll be staying? I thought you couldn’t wait to get away?”
“I thought the same thing, but now I don’t.” He stared across the beach. In the far distance a dog hurtled after a ball, came
to a skidding halt and then raced back to its owner. “I suppose sometimes what we want changes. Life changes, and we change
with it. It’s logical if you think about it. We don’t stay the same, so how can what we want stay the same?”
“Good point.” She definitely felt different. She wasn’t sure how that was possible after just a few weeks, but it was true.
Her whole future had been mapped out, but now that future seemed blurry. She couldn’t distinguish between what was expected
and what she wanted.
He rubbed sand from his leg. “Just in case you feel it’s time for a change, there’s a vacancy here for a part-time piano player
if you’re interested.”
Her heart bumped against her chest. She turned to look at him.
“Is the pay good, or are you going to pay in wine?”
“I couldn’t afford to pay you in wine. The pub would go out of business in a week.”
She laughed. “That was a one-off. You’d have yourself a bargain if you paid me in wine. I’m a one-glass-only person, remember?”
“I only remember the three-glass person, probably because she was a lot of fun. But seriously—if you wanted to stay, you could.”
It was a tempting thought, but it wasn’t real. She knew it wasn’t possible. It was all too complicated. She was her mother’s
successor. They had their weekly meetings. She was the one who knew everything about the company, including her mother’s plans
for the future. She was part of that.
“The hotel is Evie’s domain. And she’s good at it. Better than I would ever be. Let’s not think about it now.” For now, she wanted to stay in the present. Enjoy this moment with the sky turning orange and this man by her side. “Where will you live if you stay?”
“I’m pretty settled in the apartment above the pub. I might choose to move out one day, but for now it works. It’s convenient,
cosy and my commute to work is a few flights of stairs.”
“I’ve never seen your apartment.”
“It’s nothing fancy. Probably nothing like your place in Boston.”
“You’re doing it again. Making judgements.” She thought about her apartment in Boston with its acres of glass and views over
the water. Her mother had suggested she live in Back Bay, but she’d chosen a modern apartment near the waterfront. “Does your
apartment have a bed?”
“A bed?” He frowned. “Of course it has a bed. Why?”
“Just checking.”
“Well, now you’re making me doubt myself.” He stood up and dragged her to her feet.
“What are you doing? Where are we going?” She watched as he gathered up their things.
“We’re going to check whether I have a bed. In case I’m not remembering clearly.”
“And why does it matter?”
“Because I’m not making love to you on the floor. For a start it’s an old building and the floors slope, and they also creak.
Probably been walked on by too many smugglers. We need a bed. I’m pretty sure I have one. And it’s large.”
She caught her breath, dazzled by the look in his eyes. “But—”
“Can we stop talking about my bed?” He pulled her against him and kissed her and his mouth was warm and skilled and tasted of sunshine and salt water.
She melted into him, and her surroundings disappeared.
When she eventually eased away, her heart was pounding.
“I thought you weren’t interested.”
“I wasn’t interested in having sex with a woman who had drunk three glasses of wine in quick succession and couldn’t stand
up straight. This is different.”
His gaze was on her mouth, the sexual tension between them so vivid she felt that everyone else on the beach must surely be
able to feel it, too.
“You definitely weren’t interested in a one-night stand.”
He gave a slow smile and cupped her face in his hands. “Who said anything about a one-night stand?”