Chapter Two
Oliver
I’d been expecting the knock on the door first thing the next morning, but it still scared the crap out of me when it happened.
“Coming,” I yelled, leaping up from the kitchen table and barely managing to avoid spilling tea down my front.
That would have been all I needed that morning.
I’d barely slept all night thinking about the name Ivor had given me.
I couldn’t believe I hadn’t put two and two together about the builders Mum had hired.
Now, all I could do was pray the man on the other side of the door wasn’t who I thought it was.
I pulled open the front door, and my heart sank. No such fucking luck.
Standing on the doorstep, illuminated by the June sunshine and looking more gorgeous than I’d ever seen him, was Lane Turner—my childhood best friend, first boyfriend, first love, and first heartbreak. The man I’d left behind and the one I’d been avoiding each time I came home ever since.
Lane’s sharp grey eyes took me in as I let my gaze roam over his square jaw dusted with stubble, his short brown hair, and the broad shoulders he’d always threatened to grow into and apparently had.
There was a thin chain around his neck that dipped into the collar of the Turner & Sons branded polo shirt he was wearing.
He looked good. More than good in fact, and it made my heart skip, which it absolutely should not have done.
“Hey,” I said finally, breaking the awkward silence. I hadn’t seen Lane properly since our last fight just before I’d left for university. I’d seen him in passing at Nan’s funeral, but that had been a blur, and I’d barely said two words to him when he’d made his way through the crowd.
Now it was just the two of us.
“Hi,” said Lane, looking at me with such a neutral expression it chilled me. “I’m here about the renovations.”
“Yes, of course.” I nodded and stepped back, gesturing him in. “Come in.”
“Thanks.” As he walked past me, I realised he had a clipboard under his arm. I let out a silent sigh of relief. Lane was here as a professional, nothing more. This was purely a business thing. We could do this.
And by do this, I meant bury nine years of not speaking and fifteen years of friendship under a pile of rubble and concrete never to be examined again, no matter how good Lane looked or how much I’d missed him.
Lane looked around the hall and nodded, and I wondered if he’d been here recently.
I assumed he had if Mum had hired his family’s builders to run this project.
I couldn’t believe Mum hadn’t told me. Next time I spoke to her, I had a lot of questions she’d need to answer.
Specifically, why the hell she hadn’t told me my ex-boyfriend and childhood best friend was going to be managing this project?
“Sorry,” Lane said. “I thought your Mum would be here. She was the one who hired us, so I assumed she’d be here while it happened.”
“No, she’s, er… She’s in America. With David. Didn’t she tell you?”
Lane looked down at his paperwork, his mouth set in a firm line. It seemed like this had thrown him as much as it had thrown me, but that wasn’t really any consolation. “She might have mentioned it to someone but not to me.”
“Oh… I’m sorry.” I’d never felt so awkward before, not even when I was five and forced to be a sheep in the school Nativity play and had to wear the most ridiculous costume known to man. Lane had been a shepherd and had grumbled furiously that the costume his Mum had made itched.
I bit back a smile because I wasn’t supposed to be standing here idly reminiscing.
“If it helps,” I added, “she didn’t mention it to me either.”
Lane hummed and nodded. I wondered if both of us were thinking the same thing.
This had all the hallmarks of a set-up. Mum had always expressed guilt for her part in the way things had ended between us, but I’d never thought she’d go this far, even if she had casually mentioned Lane throughout the years whenever I was single.
The more I thought about it, the more suspicious this whole fucking situation became.
“So, do you need me to walk you through everything?” Lane asked as he tucked the clipboard back under his arm. “Do you know how much is being done?”
“I do, but it would be helpful to go over everything again. If that’s okay with you?”
“Sure. I was here to double-check everything before we start next week anyway.”
“Cool,” I said, still feeling heinously awkward. “Did you want a cup of tea?”
Lane looked at me for a second like I’d startled him with my offer. “Yeah, sounds good.”
He followed me into the kitchen, and I tried not to keep looking at him as I filled the kettle and dug an extra mug out of the cupboard. Mum and I had left a load of spare ones here for the builders, so it was easy enough to unearth one and give it a quick wash.
“Still milky tea with sugar?” I asked.
“Yeah. Three sugars please.”
I dropped teabags into the mugs and tried not to think about the endless hours the two of us had spent here during our summers, helping Nan out with the B & B in return for biscuits and pocket money.
I let the tea stew and picked up the floral cake tin sitting on the counter, then opened it and slid it across the kitchen table. “Rock cake? Mabel from next door dropped them round first thing.”
Lane eyed the tin like he was trying to work out if this was some sort of trick. Shit. I hated how fucking stilted things were between us. It shouldn’t have been like this, but I was mostly to blame for that.
I’d had a crush on Lane for years before I’d finally acted on it the summer after I’d turned fourteen.
I’d been terrified to tell him how I felt, so scared that I was going to lose my best friend, but then he’d kissed me, and all my fears had dissolved in an instant.
From then on, we’d been together, and I had thought it would be forever.
The first cracks had appeared when I’d started applying to university.
Even though my first choice was York, which was just over an hour away, it still meant I’d be moving because it would have been a nightmare to commute.
I’d still considered it, though, because I knew Lane was going to work for his dad, which meant staying in Heather Bay, and I hadn’t wanted us to be apart.
But my mum had put her foot down and told me I couldn’t plan my life around Lane, that if it was right, we’d make it work.
Safe to say, it hadn’t, and I’d left for university with a broken heart.
And now there we were: no more than strangers but with a lifetime’s worth of history weighing us down.
“Thanks,” said Lane as he took one of the crumbly, misshapen buns from the tin before seating himself at the table and putting the clipboard down in front of him. “So the cottage itself is in fairly good nick. It’s structurally sound, and the roof looks good.”
“Yeah, Nan had the roof replaced maybe seven, no eight, years ago,” I said as I finished making the tea. “It was leaking.”
Lane nodded and took the mug I passed him.
“Makes sense. It won’t need doing for a while, then.
However, the cottage does need new windows because they’re all single glazing and the frames are starting to rot.
We’ve also recommended replacing both the front and back doors as well.
The whole place needs rewiring because it’s a bloody fire trap.
I’m not sure who did it last time, but they shouldn’t have been allowed near it. ”
“That would’ve been Grandad,” I said with a snort, plucking my own rock cake from the tin and sliding into the seat opposite Lane. “Back in the eighties. He and a mate did it, I think. That’s what Mum always said.”
“You’re bloody lucky it hasn’t burnt down by now. I’ve never heard Phil swear so much. He’s the electrician we’ve got for this.”
“I apologise now,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll find all sorts of other horrible surprises as you go. Grandad was a firm believer in doing it himself, even if he had no idea what he was doing. I’ll try to use limited amounts of power until its done.”
“Might be best. Don’t overload the sockets. Sod’s law says it’s made it this far but won’t last another week.”
“That would be a fun surprise.” I chuckled. “What else is on the list?”
“We’re going to redo the plumbing because it needs to be dragged into this century, then refit the bathrooms, the kitchen, and finish up with new carpets and flooring upstairs, and give the hardwood down here some love.”
Lane said it with a totally straight face, and I had to resist the urge to laugh because apparently, the strained situation made me think like a twelve-year-old.
Lane looked at me and raised an eyebrow as if he knew exactly what I was trying not to do.
There was a smile playing about the corner of his lips, and I suddenly wondered if he’d done it on purpose.
“Okay, that all sounds good.” Once upon a time, I’d have tried to make some ridiculous hardwood joke to make Lane laugh, but we weren’t in that place anymore, and I didn’t want to make this conversation any more uncomfortable than it already was by totally misjudging the tone.
Lane opened his mouth as if he were about to ask me something, but instead, he closed it and looked down at his paperwork, muttering something under his breath.
“Your mum also mentioned decorators. Is that still the case? I’ve got someone lined up, and it was part of the quote, but it wasn’t confirmed, so I wanted to double-check.”
I thought for a second. I was perfectly capable of wielding a paintbrush, so my first reaction was to say no.
Then I remembered the acres of floral wallpaper upstairs.
While the idea of doing it myself sounded easy in principle, I knew I’d be cursing before I’d even finished stripping one room. “Yes, please.”
“Cool.” Lane made a little note on his sheet.
I sipped my tea and broke my rock cake in half, watching as crumbs scattered across the table.
The bun was soft with dried fruit dotted throughout like little jewels.
Nan and Mabel had always had a friendly rivalry over their baking, and I’d always happily consumed whatever they handed me.
The stinging realisation that I’d never hear Nan snarking about Mabel’s shortbread again made my chest ache.
“Do you have any questions?” Lane asked, and I realised I’d been staring off into space.
“Sorry. No, not really. You’re starting next week, right?”
“Yeah, Monday. We’ll be here at eight to start on the windows and doors, then Phil will come and make a start on the wiring on Wednesday.”
“No worries. I’ll be here,” I said. “I’ll keep out of your way, and if you need anything, you can just yell.”
Lane frowned. “Okay… We’ll need to turn the power off for the wiring. Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
Bugger. I hadn’t thought of that, and now I looked like a right banana.
My only options were to stay there or at Mum’s house, but Mum lived twenty minutes away, and my hire car was being collected on Monday.
Living in London meant I didn’t have any use for a car normally, and since town was within walking distance of Nan’s cottage, and food delivery was a thing, I’d just hired one for my initial journey and the weekend to help me get settled in.
“I’ll be fine,” I said because I didn’t have much choice unless I wanted to fork out for a hotel. “The sun sets very late, I can order takeaway, my laptop has a pretty decent battery, and I brought plenty of books to read. I’m sure I’ll manage. How long will the wiring take?”
“Two days, maybe three at a push.” Lane didn’t look convinced by my argument.
“That’s fine. Plus, I can find somewhere to work in town for a few hours to charge things.”
“Go down to Novel Tea,” Lane said. “It’s a coffee shop on Juniper Street, right in the middle of town. They do tea, coffee, cakes, sandwiches, and stuff like that. It’s nice, and it’s book themed.” He gave me a small smile and something flickered in my chest again. “It’s run by Alex and Spencer.”
“Oh… thanks. I’ll give it a try.”
I didn’t want to ask whether Alex would even let me set foot in the place.
Alex had been part of our friend group at school, and he’d had a fiery temper even then.
I had a sneaking suspicion Alex was the sort to hold a grudge for life and that he’d take one look at me and send me packing.
I doubted he’d have forgiven me for what happened between me and Lane.
“If you’re worried about Alex, don’t be. He might be a twat sometimes, but he’s not going to throw you out,” Lane said. His smile widened, and the sight sent a wave of butterflies careening through my chest so fast it almost left me breathless.
“You sure?”
“If you’re that worried, go down on a Monday, Wednesday, or Thursday morning because Spencer opens on those days, and he’s a pushover.”
“Okay.” I hoped Lane hadn’t noticed the change in my tone because I was sure I suddenly sounded halting and short of breath. But if I did, his expression didn’t change. Instead, he just started walking me through the costs and the timeline for the renovations.
But I was only half listening.
Because all I could think about was how much I regretted the way things had ended between Lane and me and how rashly I’d acted back then. And whether there was a chance, no matter how small, that things could go back to the way they’d been all those years ago.