Chapter 4 #3
Sophie doesn’t even bother to hide her smile. “Jamie wanted to bring Georgie some flowers. Maybe you should think about doing that.”
Zeke rolls his eyes. “I don’t think I need dating advice from a three-year-old. I’ll take him to the car.” He winks at her. “I’m really hoping our twins’ extrasensory perception is giving you my silent message right now.”
“Is it to bugger off?”
“That’s very naughty,” Jamie observes in a scandalised tone.
Zeke chuckles. “There. It does work.”
He turns and walks back into the house, and I go to follow, stopping when Sophie grabs my arm. “I’m so glad about the two of you.”
I pat her hand. “I wouldn’t get ahead of yourself. It’s early days. He’s not marrying me.”
Try as I might, I can’t help the wistfulness in my voice. She hesitates and looks at the farmhouse. Then she turns back and whispers, “Ask him why he came to London.”
“Why?”
But I’m talking to the air. She’s gone into the house, and within a few minutes, we’re watching her car disappear down the lane, a cloud of dust in her wake.
“Sorry,” Zeke says.
I turn in surprise. “Why?”
He scratches his head. “Well, it was supposed to be just us, and we seem to have met most of the village by now.”
“Ah, country life.” I step closer, loving the way he takes hold of my hips.
His fingers dig in a little, and he looks suddenly uncertain. “Is this okay?”
“Only if you’re turning it into a cuddle.”
I chuckle when he hugs me. My laughter dies away as he kisses me, but I fancy I can feel it dancing along my bloodstream as I melt into his arms.
“Alright?” I ask when he suddenly steps back.
He rubs his nose. “Don’t we need to spend some time to get our stories straight before we head out?”
I blink, not able to work out what he’s talking about, then realisation dawns. “The wedding?” I’d forgotten all about it, and it’s happening today.
But the panic rushing through my chest isn’t about my wedding. It’s because I’ve only got one day left with Zeke.
He nods, giving me a gentle smile. “We were so distracted yesterday that we didn’t get round to the reason for you being here. They’ve got a good day for it anyway.” He looks at the sky with his keen farmer’s gaze. “Maybe a little rain by evening, but it’s a good day to get married.”
“Yeah, I don’t care.”
“Pardon?”
I wave a careless hand. “I don’t care about Simon. I never did.”
“So why did you go to all that trouble trying to hire a fake boyfriend?”
“Pah. That was just my pride.” I stop and search for a way to convey to this gentle giant what I felt. “It was important to go to his wedding with someone on my arm, not because of him, but what he represented. When I was with him, I always felt a bit less.”
“What the fuck? You could never be that.”
“Not to you.” The words come from somewhere deep inside me, where honesty lives, and they ring into the sudden silence. After a moment, I say, “To you, I’m something.”
“You’re not just something, Georgie. You’re everything.”
I swallow hard, my eyes feeling hot. “But to Simon I wasn’t.
I knew he judged me for being a life model, even though I loved it.
Of course, it’s not exactly what I thought I’d end up doing, but I wanted to show him that I was fine.
The truth was, I’ve always been fine with or without him.
He never saw or touched the real me. Ever,” I add fervently.
I want to tell Zeke that he’s always seen the real me, but I don’t think I need to, because his eyes light up, and a soft smile crosses his face.
I hesitate, his sister’s words coming back to me. “Why were you in London? Was it really for a meeting?”
A flush spreads over his tanned cheeks. “I missed you so much when you left.”
That wasn’t what I was expecting, but my belly warms at the simple honesty in his voice.
It’s time to reciprocate with the truth.
It’s funny, because years ago, pride and probably fear that my feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated would’ve held me back.
And I may have only spent a couple of days with him, but I’m no longer afraid.
“I left because I felt I had to. I didn’t want to stay because you were happy with Monica, and I knew you were going to marry her. Does that make sense?”
“It makes perfect sense.” His handsome face clouds a little.
I cock my head. “So, why were you in London?” He hesitates, and I narrow my eyes. “Zeke?”
“You’re going to think it’s silly and maybe rather stalkery.”
“I can absolutely guarantee I’ve heard worse.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“Why did you come to London?”
“You.”
My eyes go wide, and my jaw goes slack.
His lip quirks as he taps my chin. I shut my mouth with a snap. “Me?” I say faintly.
He shrugs. “I picked up the newspaper the Sunday morning before I saw you and there was an article about you in it.”
“Pardon?”
“It was in the Guardian.”
Recognition dawns. “The article about Ivo Ashworth-Robinson?” He nods. “Oh my god, I’d forgotten all about that.” Honesty compels me to admit, “The article was actually about Ivo and his career path as an artist. Not me.”
“Was it? All I remember is that the photographer had taken a picture of the art class he was teaching, and you were in the picture. You were in some sort of hall on a sofa on a dais, and you were naked.”
“I’m prepared to bet the journalist covered up my best bits. Massive spoilsport.”
“It was enough.” He stops and clears his throat. “It was enough to know that I couldn’t push these feelings away anymore. You were glorious—so bold and alive, it felt like I could reach through the pages and touch you, and suddenly it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t live on memories anymore.”
“Zeke,” I say softly.
He runs his fingers over my face, his touch as soft and gentle as a butterfly’s wings. “Do you remember me saying that at the end of my marriage to Monica she asked me a question?”
I blink at the change of subject and then nod.
“She asked me if I could have one person right there in front of me, who would it be. And I didn’t even stop to think. I said you. And she smiled and said surely that should mean something, and that she wanted her chance to meet someone who she could feel that way about.”
“Zeke,” I whisper. His name is the only thing I can think to say, but it’s enough.
“I felt guilty for a long time that I couldn’t be that person for her, and I think that’s why I never tried to see you before. Well, that and the thought you’d probably moved on without me.”
“I hadn’t.”
He takes my hand and kisses my fingers. It’s a courtly gesture that makes my eyes feel hot.
“Then she met Seth, and I knew she was happy again, and I could relax.” He clears his throat, “Anyway, fast forward to meeting her in the pub last week. I had the magazine with me, and she asked why I hadn’t tried to see you again.
I honestly couldn’t think of an answer, so she told me to get my arse to London.
I booked a train to London immediately. The article mentioned what college taught the class.
I was going to wait around and see if you turned up.
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you in that cafe. ”
He stops, and my heart pounds so loudly I’m amazed he can’t hear it. “You mentioned feelings. What feelings?” I whisper.
He takes a breath. “What I felt for you then, and what I feel now. Fascination and this massive affection I’ve only ever felt for you.
I told myself for years that it was just friendship, but I couldn’t deny any longer it was lust when you walked into that cafe.
You’re just—” He hesitates, looking for words.
“You’re just you,” he finally says simply, and I swallow hard because in those words is a bone-deep affection and something that makes my mouth dry and my whole body yearn for him. “I don’t know. Was that stalkery?”
“Maybe a little, but it’s the best kind of stalkery.”
He cocks his head. “You’ve experienced worse?”
“Well, an ex-hookup used to follow me to the launderette and steal my underwear.” His eyes narrow. “Anyway, moving on. Let’s get back to discussing feelings. My feelings and yours. Let’s definitely discuss those.”
I’m anticipating a kiss, so I’m surprised when he steps away. He licks his lips. “So, are we going to the wedding?” I shake my head solemnly, and his smile appears. It’s as bright as the sun. “Then we seem to have a spare day ahead of us.”
“How terrible. Whatever shall we do?” I wink at him. “Please let the activity be in the bedroom. I’ve been a very good boy all year.” I hesitate. “Well, the last week anyway.”
“We have to visit the bees.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He turns and starts to walk back towards the farmhouse. “We need to go and see the bees.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Is that a euphemism for bed-shakingly good sex, Zeke Taylor?” I call out as he disappears into the house, and I huff in resignation before following him.
“There are so many hives,” I breathe. We’re standing at the entrance to one of Zeke’s fields.
It’s a peaceful place, bounded by oak trees, with a view over the valley.
The hives are set neatly spaced apart. I turn to look at Zeke, who’s rummaging through the boot of his car. “How many bees are in each hive?”
“They differ, but on average we have fifty thousand per hive.”
“Wow.” I turn back to look at the hives, smiling as he comes up behind me and puts his arms around me.
I hum as he kisses my neck. He’s already zeroed in on the fact that a mere touch to where my neck meets my shoulder makes me squirm.
He pulls away, and I turn to face him as he bends and picks up some white fabric. “What’s that?”
“A beekeeper’s suit for you.”
“A what?” I back away as he hands it to me. “A beekeeper? But I’m not keeping them. I’m just standing here while you do all the keeping and the visiting.”
“I thought you might like to be close to a hive. No worries if you don’t want to do it.” His words are gentle and entirely without coercion, but as usual, he has the power to persuade me into doing anything he wants.