Float My Boat

10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

O n Saturday morning, as I waited inside the café for Andrew to pick me up, I stared at the picture Hannah had just posted to Instagram of Andrew and I on the way to the first regatta of the season. I’d forgotten all about it, but I screenshotted it in a heartbeat, and had already reached for it at least twenty times, the part of me that liked torturing myself obsessing over the way Andrew looked down at me, and the way I looked back at him. The intensity of it. The purity. The way his whole being focused on me like there was no one else in the world. Why Hannah had posted it now, I had no idea. Perhaps low on social media content or maybe she was meddling in our love lives …

‘Hey,’ said Andrew’s voice, startling me to such an extent I almost dropped my phone.

‘Hey,’ I said, flushing as I hastily shoved it inside my black leather clutch.

He looked me up and down. ‘You look beautiful,’ he said in that deep, intense way of his.

I wore a knee-length silk day dress with elbow-length sleeves. It was sage green, was covered in large, dusky pink flowers, and cinched in at the waist. I’d swept my long dark hair back, with loose plaits on either side of my head which I’d tied up in an artful bun. And of course, I’d applied make-up, which almost never happened.

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘You too.’ Because he looked like his usual demi-god self, enhanced by a perfectly tailored blue suit.

His lips twitched. ‘I’m so glad. I always aim for beautiful.’

I rolled my eyes, then headed outside to where his truck waited. He opened the passenger door for me, then closed it when I was safely inside, which always gave me weird vibes because my hands felt like spare parts, and the door felt like a weapon, ready to strike, even though I knew he was only being nice.

Silence gripped us in its firm clutches as we got going, pressing in on us, making me consider that taking Andrew to the reunion after everything that had happened might be a terrible idea. Too late now .

I repeatedly pinched my thumb and forefinger together as I sought solace through the window, but solace never came.

‘Why so quiet?’ Andrew said eventually.

For a moment I didn’t answer. My family. My mother. My successful cousins who look down their noses at me, lording their highfalutin careers and perfect marriages. But that wasn’t the truth, at least not the whole truth.

I sighed. ‘Lots of reasons.’ Not least of which, you .

‘Want to talk about it?’

‘No.’

‘Are you embarrassed to introduce me to your family?’ he teased. He’d met my mother before, not to mention, how could anyone ever be embarrassed of him?

‘I will be when I have to tell them you broke up with me.’

‘Then tell them it was you or that it was mutual. Or … we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.’

I waved a hand. ‘It’s fine. I just want to get it over with, and I already told them you’re coming.’

‘Okay, then tell me what’s going on with Hazel and Noah.’

I rounded on him so fast, I almost gave myself whiplash. ‘Um … what?’

Andrew laughed as I leaned across the space between us. ‘They spend an awful lot of time together, that’s all I’m saying.’

‘Andrew! You never gossip!’

He chuckled. ‘Just a friendly enquiry.’

‘Hmm,’ I said skeptically, as I considered Hazel and Noah as a couple for the first time. ‘I mean … maybe? Honestly, Hazel keeps her cards so close to her chest, I never know what’s going on with her.’

‘Sounds like someone else I know …’ He cocked an eyebrow as he glanced at me.

‘Hey!’ I scowled. ‘I’m an open book.’

‘Oh yeah? Then why won’t you tell me what’s really getting you down?’

I sat back in my seat and stared through the windshield. Because it’s y ou, Andrew, you’re getting me down.

‘Besides our fake dating complications and your family reunion, of course.’

Our fake dating complications? Is that what he was calling this? I huffed out a breath as I watched the hedgerows whip by, vibrant and full of early summer color. ‘I’m thinking of buying another business,’ I said quietly, hardly believing I’d voiced it, especially to him.

‘No way!’

‘Maybe a club, or a deli and gift shop. I don’t know.’

‘That’s incredible!’ he said, snatching glances at me between monitoring the road.

‘No one knows, and if I do it, it’ll take up a ton of time. The financial projections are already keeping me up at night, and it’s bad for my crew.’

‘But it would get you out of your rut. You said you wanted something new, and you’re so good at knowing what’ll work. Your café and bar have both done so well.’

Why were compliments always so awkward? ‘I mean, it’ll be small, nothing like your expansion, but hopefully it will be different enough from the bar and café to make it interesting.’

‘It sounds amazing, Miri. And I can help with the financial projections … if that’s … if it’s helpful.’

My heart gave a sharp thud. ‘Thank you. I’m just worried how my crew will take it. I won’t have time for anything else for a while, and Hazel understands, but Ottie and Livia …’

He gave a relaxed shrug. ‘They have Belle, and your crew don’t own you. You don’t owe them anything, especially if you feel like you need a new challenge. They’ll understand.’

I nodded, hoping he was right. ‘I just don’t like letting people down.’

‘Even if they’re disappointed, your crew will get over it. They want what’s best for you … We all do.’ My heart lurched, and oh, God, why did he have to be so perfect?

‘Ready?’ I said brightly, checking my makeup in the mirror and plastering on my game face as we pulled into the hotel’s parking lot.

Andrew sent me a cavalier smile that had my heart singing. ‘Buttercup, I was born ready.’

I clutched his arm a little too tightly as we entered the grand hotel my second cousin twice removed had graciously footed the bill for. He’d done well in finance and liked everyone to know it, so every email relating to the event had contained a thank you note to our sponsor at the bottom, and as we sailed through the glass doors into the opulent, minimalist entrance hall, even the welcome banners sported the same message.

The hotel wouldn’t have been my first choice, all clean lines and popping colors. I was more into old world charm and rustic chic, but hey, if modern was what my rich cousin wanted, who was I to argue? And as we entered the large, open event space, the view across the moorland beyond the wall of glass literally stopped me in my tracks.

‘Wow,’ I said, scanning the barren beauty. ‘I wasn’t expecting that.’

‘Me neither,’ said Andrew, stopping close behind me, his hand resting on my lower back. For a moment, I pretended it was just the two of us and the stunning vista, that we were here for a romantic couple’s retreat, that my entire extended family weren’t lurking around every corner. Alas, my make believe did not last long.

‘Darling!’ said my mother’s shrill voice, shattering our moment of tranquility. She was using the clipped tone she reserved for family occasions when the good relatives were in attendance, and I inwardly cringed.

‘Mum,’ I said, fighting with my face to make a smile appear.

She pulled me in for a hug, then planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek, and this time I couldn’t fully cover my shudder.

‘Lovely dress,’ she gushed, pulling back. ‘Although I never liked you in green.’

Yes, well, there are many things we all think about others, Mother, but most of us have the good grace to keep them to ourselves. ‘You remember Andrew?’ I said with a bright smile.

He dutifully stepped forward and kissed my mother’s cheek before returning to my side. ‘Lovely to see you again, Mrs. Murdock.’

‘Cadence, please! How many times do I have to tell you? And you and Miri are …’ Her intent gaze flicked to where Andrew’s arm disappeared behind my back.

‘Dating,’ he supplied.

‘But I thought …’

‘Yes?’ I asked, the word a challenge, my eyes sharp. It was amazing how a few simple words from my mother, said in that voice, could turn me back into the teenaged version of myself. Perhaps more alarmingly, I didn’t immediately want to return to the adult realm.

She gave a shake of her head, losing some of her bustle, and I relaxed a little. ‘Well, Andrew was there, I suppose, during that difficult time. Perhaps he can help you find solace where others have failed.’

Andrew’s features pinched. He seemed to be genuinely confused, and perhaps a tiny bit frustrated, presumably because the rest of the world had long ago forgotten that I once was on the cusp of an illustrious Olympic career … at least if my mother’s version of the past was anything to go by. In truth, that dream had been a lot more precarious than she liked to remember.

‘I’m sorry, Cadence,’ said Andrew. ‘I’m not sure I follow.’

‘Rowing, of course! Miriette’s never having reached her full potential!’ Yes, my mother called me Miriette. I have never forgiven her. ‘She could have been famous , if only she hadn’t thrown it all away for that café .’

‘I think Miri’s café is incredible,’ said Andrew, who still seemed a little lost.

‘Oh,’ said my mother, ‘well … yes, I suppose … not that it matters now of course.’ She leaned towards me and grasped my arm. ‘Did you hear? Your cousin, Ariana, is getting a divorce!’ She raised her eyebrows and bit her lips in a comical display of delighted mock compassion.

‘No,’ I said, glaring at her. ‘I hadn’t heard. Is she okay?’ I happened to like Ariana.

‘Oh, don’t worry about her. She’ll get stacks of money in the divorce. Not like me …’

‘She did earn at least half of it,’ I fired back, ‘so that would be fair. But that’s not what I meant, Mum. Emotionally, how’s she holding up?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t actually seen her yet. Her sister told me. Wait, there’s Bea. Maybe she’ll know more.’

I breathed a sigh of relief when my mother hustled away in search of superior gossip, but didn’t miss the look my aunt Bea flashed my way when she saw my mother inbound. My parents had divorced around the time I’d failed to realize my potential, and although Bea, my dad’s sister, would have liked to be Switzerland, Mum wouldn’t allow it, so instead she’d had to be the shoulder for both of them to cry on, at least, she did until my dad died.

I sent Bea an expression that said, I’ve done my time, you’re on your own , then looked around in search of safer pastures.

‘I don’t remember her being quite like that,’ said Andrew, flagging down a passing server and selecting two mimosas, one of which he handed to me.

‘Ha! Maybe she’s getting worse with age. She conveniently forgets that I probably wouldn’t have been good enough to be an Olympian anyway. She put all her eggs in a basket that wasn’t even there.’ It was sad when I thought about it like that. ‘But thanks for sticking up for me. Most people just smile and nod.’

Andrew steered me to the refuge of an alcove near the windows. ‘I get the impression she’s less devastated for you and more for herself.’

I looked up at him dumfounded. ‘Yes, exactly! No one ever understands that.’ Only my aunt Bea, and my dad, before he died. It’s not like the Olympics were ever my dream. I love rowing for the community, not the glory, although it’s always fun when we see a bit of that, too. I can’t deny my competitive streak.

‘But you’re wrong, you know. You were good enough.’

His eyes watched me with an intensity that had my breath catching in my throat. I bit my lip, then shook my head. ‘Well, we’ll never know, but I don’t care. It’s in the past. I moved on a long time ago, and I just wish my mother would put it behind her, too.’

‘But what about your cousin’s divorce?’ he said salaciously.

I covered my face with my free hand. ‘Please, spare me from this torture!’

He bumped my shoulder with his, and as I scanned the room, I found the place had filled up with distant cousins I only vaguely recognized, and let’s face it, had little intention of talking to. Most of them were pleasant enough, but my family had a way of putting me on edge, and I dreaded the predictable questions.

I turned my back on the room, but that, alas, did nothing to deter my more persistent relatives, and we fielded an endless barrage of queries, plastering fixed smiles on our faces and supplying nebulous answers before making polite inquiries of our own. People asked how we met, when Andrew was planning to propose, if we’d discussed babies because, according to my great aunt, one couldn’t leave it too long , and even whether we had a joint bank account.

Andrew navigated the treacherous waters without breaking a sweat, taking the brunt of the question-answering responsibilities and deflecting the more personal probes. I relaxed into it, Andrew’s family-gathering competence taking the edge off—or maybe that was the mimosa—and by the time the droning, high-pitched whine of bagpipes filled the air, I was even starting to enjoy myself.

‘You are really good at this,’ I whispered into his ear, just as a piper appeared in the doorway. I groaned inwardly as our sponsor and his family processed into the room, smiling and waving as though they were royalty. Andrew watched wide eyed, a faint smile on his lips. I was never going to live this down.

‘We have Scottish ancestry,’ I murmured, as though that somehow justified my cousin acting like our chieftain.

‘Very nice,’ said Andrew, with a gently mocking incline of his head. I poked him in the ribs, and he squirmed, grabbing my finger and holding it down by his side to prevent further attack, not letting go as our sponsor stepped onto a raised platform.

‘Family!’ said my cousin, spreading his arms wide and giving us all a view of his very white teeth. ‘I am so delighted to sponsor this, our tenth annual reunion! For what matters more in this world than family?’

He let silence descend for a beat, his features solemn. ‘And we— my family and I—look forward to chatting with each and every one of you. To hearing the highs and lows, mysteries and surprises, achievements and struggles you have faced since last we met. But first, we dance!’

My cousin lifted his arms so fast he almost staggered backwards off the podium, but he caught himself just in time and jumped down, almost styling it out.

‘In the name of all that is holy,’ I breathed. Andrew smirked and squeezed my finger.

The piper started up again, processing out as a group of musicians took their places at the far end of the room, where a drum kit and microphones already waited. They made noises for a few moments on their fiddles, drums, and panpipes—warming up as musicians always do—while the caller pulled one of the microphones from its stand and tapped it to check it was on.

‘Hello, Murdock family!’ she called in her Scottish lilt, and a cheer went up from some of my more exuberant relatives. ‘I’m delighted to be back with you all again, especially in this lovely new hotel!’ She’d led the dancing every year since the inaugural celebration. ‘Now, I know most of you donnae need me anymore, but for those who cannae remember the steps, never fear, I’ll walk you through each and every one.’

Andrew took my hand and led me to the dancefloor, where others were already eagerly congregating. I pulled back a little. ‘Andrew, you don’t have to …’

He grinned down at me. ‘I’ve been to my share of Ceilidhs, Miss Murdock.’

The band launched into a Scottish jig, and the caller raised her voice. ‘We’ll start with the Gay Gordons to ease us in gently!’ And with that, we and the other dancers formed a circle, and away we went.

We spun and clapped and hopped along with the others, and after we’d Stripped the Willow and Dashed the White Sergeant, the caller announced a break. I was glad of the reprieve, and we grabbed glasses of water before heading out onto the balcony to cool down.

We moved away from the crowd, stopping on the boundary to the next-door function room, which was blissfully empty. I leaned my arms on the railing, glad of the breeze cooling my skin, then tried—and failed—to ignore how Andrew’s arm settled against mine as he took the space beside me.

‘You’re a good dancer,’ he said, nudging me so the full length of his arm rubbed against mine.

‘I had a good partner.’ He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he knew what he was doing. How could one person be so unreasonably good at so many things? My gaze flicked up to his, and at the look in his eyes, I became a fly caught in a web, but unlike a fly, I had no interest in breaking free. I didn’t even struggle, quite the opposite, I willed him to glide across his delicate creation and wrap me in his silk.

His eyes dilated, and I was sure mine had too, our bodies like disobedient pets, conversing in ways we had no control over and without our permission. Although, if my eyes had asked, I probably would have told them to dilate some more, and if whatever part of me produced such things had asked about pheromones, I would have enthusiastically thrown some of those in his direction, too.

He leaned so close, he blocked out the world, and I lost myself in him. In his green eyes, the warmth of his imposing body, his sweet, earthy smell. I tipped my head back a little, enough to encourage him, but not so much as to beg because I was sure he would reject me again if I tried to kiss him. Especially here, in front of so many interested eyes.

My phone buzzed in my bag, rattling the railing through the leather, but I ignored it because Andrew crept closer still, so close we shared the same breath, so close I could think of no other explanation for it aside from his intention to kiss me. My lips parted on an exhale, and Andrew’s gaze flicked to my mouth. He swallowed, his throat bobbing, my heart fluttering wildly, and then a small child shrieked behind us, knocking us apart a second later and breaking the spell.

‘Sorry!’ the little toad threw over his shoulder as he hared off without a care in the world, chasing his older cousins.

I huffed out a breath, then pulled my phone from my clutch and unlocked it. Andrew’s eyes flicked to the screen, to where … Shit . Heat rose up through my chest, scalding my cheeks as I snatched my phone away. I closed my eyes, wondering how I’d been so stupid. Why did he have to see that?

‘You should make it your background,’ he said, his lips beside my ear, his voice a low growl. ‘You know, to really sell the lie.’ He slid the phone from my grasp, then presented it back to me so I could unlock it with my thumb. I dutifully did as he asked, then watched in fascination as he set the picture Hannah had taken of us as both my background and my lock screen.

‘Then you should, too,’ I said, cocking an eyebrow. ‘Or I seem more committed than you.’

He pulled out his phone, a dangerous look on his features. ‘I can do one better than that,’ he said, placing his water on the wide railing. He slid his free hand to my neck, and he met my gaze as he held out his arm and snapped a selfie.

Then he lowered his head, pressing his forehead to mine, his lips so tantalizingly close. He pulled me the last inch towards him, and my eyes slid shut as I became lost in the thrill of him, of relinquishing control. And then his lips were on mine, and he was pressing a deep, claiming kiss to my very willing mouth.

He pulled away too soon and looked at his phone. ‘Perfect,’ he said, showing me the pictures. Pictures that made me go weak at the knees. Andrew looking at me as though he wanted to consume me. Andrew kissing me. He set the first photo as his lock screen and the kiss as his background, and my whole being seemed to liquify. ‘Satisfied, Buttercup?’

I shook my head, then took hold of his phone, our fingers brushing as I slid it from his grip. It was intimate, having access to another person’s phone, and a thrill shot through me as I sent the photos to myself. ‘If we were dating, I would make you send me these,’ I explained, then looked up at him from under my lashes. ‘And I’d probably scroll through your messages and photos, too.’

A new light danced in his eyes. ‘By all means, be my guest.’ But I wasn’t brave enough to do it, so I dropped the phone into his pocket instead. My lips tingled from the kiss, and I caught my bottom lip between my teeth. His eyes darkened as he took in the movement, and he lifted his hand as though about to tug it free.

‘Miri! Darling!’ said an exuberant voice emanating from my aunt, a tall, short-haired, stick-like woman with a cigarette between her fingers.

‘People still smoke those things?’ I asked, irritated by her terrible timing.

‘It’s nice to see you, too,’ Bea quipped. ‘And this must be the delicious Theo you’ve told me so much about! It is so nice to finally meet you. And I must say, you’re even more delectable in the flesh than I imagined.’

‘Uh … Bea,’ I said, sending an apologetic look at Andrew while wishing the ground would open up and swallow me. ‘This is my boyfriend, Andrew .’

She paused mid arm wave. ‘Oh, shit, sorry. Well, anyway, as I said, you look far better than that Theo waster! So, tell me, what do you do?’

Andrew shook her proffered hand, seeming to take her eccentricity in his stride, and I breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I’m a data scientist, and it’s nice to meet you, too.’ He leaned in conspiratorially. ‘I hear you’re the only sane one in the family.’

I gasped, rounding on Andrew, but Bea barked a delighted laugh. ‘You’re not wrong there! Don’t look so shocked, Miri, it’s hardly a secret.’

Andrew chuckled, but there was something different about him, something more aloof, professional maybe? And was there more space between us now?

‘I used to run to Bea when my mother got too much,’ I said, sliding my hand into the crook of Andrew’s arm, needing to eliminate the physical gap. ‘Her house was a wild, free place, and Mum hated it!’ I was rambling, desperate to ease the discomfort caused by Bea’s careless words.

Bea nodded and waved her cigarette around, swathing us all in smoke. ‘I don’t like to speak badly of my sister-in-law, but her parenting style is not what mine would have been. But then again, I never had the misfortune of popping out a mini-me or two, so we’ll never really know. I probably would have turned into a full-blown alcoholic by now. God, can you imagine having to look after little people all the time? Every single day? For twenty-four hours straight? Let me tell you, I was not cut out for that.’

I suspected a part of Bea had wanted kids, and that an even larger part of her was resentful that Mum had had one but had never seemed all that interested in winning a parent of the year award. But the whole thing had worked out well, actually, because although they complained mercilessly about one another, Bea was always there for Mum, as Mum was for her. Whatever happened, at least they had each other.

‘Excuse me,’ said Andrew, pulling away, his body too stiff. ‘I’ll be right back.’

As soon as Andrew was out of earshot, Bea screwed up her features. ‘Sorry, darling. I really cocked that up.’

I gave her a disbelieving look on account of her cavalier apology, my head beginning to rush with worry. ‘Yes, Bea, you really fucking did.’

‘I am so sorry about my relatives,’ I said as soon as we closed the doors to Andrew’s truck. It was late, following hours of eating and dancing and chatting, but Andrew had been a shadow of his former self after the conversation with Bea. I mourned the loss of him and was desperate to make amends, to bring him back.

‘Don’t be,’ he said. ‘I’ve always wished I had a big family like yours. I think that’s why we have the DrewDox party every year.’

‘Oh. Well, you’re welcome at my family events any time! Everyone loved you.’ The words sounded forced, and worry gnawed at me when he didn’t say anything in reply.

He gave me nothing but silence for the whole ride home, my fingers hurting when we got there from all the clenching and unclenching I’d done on the way. I wracked my brain for words to undo the damage, for anything that might bring down the walls he’d put up between us, but I came up blank. What could I say?

Maybe I should have just told him how I felt. Maybe he felt the same. Maybe that’s why he’d reacted so badly to Bea’s words. It was a terrifying hope, and telling him was perilous, fraught with danger and embarrassment, and what if he rejected me again?

He parked, but didn’t move to get out.

‘Thank you for coming, Andrew. Really—’

‘You were right when you said this was a bad idea,’ he said, cutting across me. He looked through the windshield, refusing to meet my eyes. ‘I’m sorry I forced you to take me today.’

‘You didn’t force me. I … it was—’

‘Theo’s who you want. You were clear about that from the start. My crew messaged. They’re in your bar, and if you want that little punk …’

His words made everything inside me rush backwards, and my brain ceased to know how to form words. ‘Andrew …’

He got out and opened my door, and I dutifully stepped down, Andrew careful not to touch me, still avoiding my gaze. ‘See you at training, Miri,’ he said, shutting my door with a controlled slam, then moving back to the driver's side.

‘Andrew … wait!’

His truck was halfway across the parking lot before my brain regained function, and it took several long moments before I remembered where I was, that I should go inside.

I trudged up the stairs to my apartment, let myself in, then stood leaning back against the closed door for long minutes, staring at the lights beyond the windows. It had been like a dream, having Andrew at the reunion. Everyone had loved him, and he’d been so at home, so willing to join in, so fun …

I wanted to pull out my phone and call one of my crew, but I couldn’t. What would I tell them? That I’d just fake split up with Andrew for a second time? And this time, I didn’t even have tears for comfort, just brutal, harrowing emptiness. Pure desolation because for a few fleeting heartbeats, it had felt like the real thing, and it had been perfect.

So what the fuck was I supposed to do now?