Chapter Twenty-Five
Lane
Lying on the sand, looking down at Oliver with his dark hair splayed out on the crumpled, old towel underneath us, I couldn’t think of a more perfect moment.
His expression was a mixture of shock and awe like he’d never imagined me saying those words to him.
But it was the truth. Nobody else had ever come close to Oliver for me.
And I’d been prepared to accept, bitterly, that I’d always have to settle for someone else because I’d lost the one person I really loved.
But apparently someone, somewhere, had other plans for us.
I sneakily wondered if it was Iris, manipulating fate like some superpowered ghost. She’d probably laugh at that.
If you’d told me two months ago that by July Oliver would have returned to Heather Bay, and that I’d forgiven him, fallen back in love with him, and convinced him to stay, I’d have asked what you’d been drinking. Because I’d never even entertained the idea of something like that happening.
“It has?” Oliver asked, apparently still stunned by my statement. “Always been me, I mean?”
“Yeah.” I kissed him again, tasting the tart, sweet cider on his tongue. “It has.”
“Even after everything?”
“Maybe not, like, right afterwards,” I said with a wry smile, rolling off him to sit on the scrunched-up towel next to him.
“But since you came back, I’ve realised how much I fucking missed you.
How nothing has been the same without you, even if I wanted to pretend it was fine.
” I picked up my bottle of cider, which had only spilled a little when I’d dropped it, and brushed the sand off the side.
“I regretted it, you know. Our fight. I wanted nothing more than to reach out to you, but I was too angry and stubborn, and I didn’t want to admit I might’ve been wrong.
And the more time passed, the weirder I thought it would be. ”
“I felt the same,” Oliver said as he sat up. “I have no idea how many messages I wrote then deleted. How many times I thought about calling. But we found our way back to each other, and that means something.”
“I just wish it hadn’t taken so much time.”
“True, but I don’t know if we’d have been ready before now.
” He picked up his own bottle and frowned.
“It sounds weird, but things fit now. I technically have a house I can move into, I have a job I can hopefully convince my boss to let me do remotely, and I’m more comfortable in myself.
I’ve done the London thing, the working-all-hours thing, and now I want more.
” Oliver shook his head and looked over at me, a smile pulling at his mouth.
“It was funny,” he continued, “when I was trying to decide what to do, I made a list. Like a reasons to stay versus reasons to go back to London list so I could write it all out and have it in front of me. I always find that helps.”
“How did that go?” I asked. “I’m guessing there were more reasons to stay since you’re here?”
I was curious now that he’d brought it up to see what his reasons were, even though they didn’t really affect me anymore. It wasn’t like Oliver was still trying to decide and thinking about tossing a coin, but I still wanted to know what he’d written.
“Yeah, quite a few actually.” He chuckled and reached into the bag behind him, pulling out the smart-looking fabric notebook I’d seen him use for work.
“Did you do this instead of working?”
“Maybe,” Oliver said. “Don’t tell Brian.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I said as Oliver opened the notebook to a double-page spread at the back and handed it to me. I saw two headers written at the top with a wonky dividing line drawn down the middle. One header said Pros of Staying and the other said Cons of Staying.
I glanced at the cons list and chuckled when I saw only two reasons written in Oliver’s scrawl: Work. Moving is expensive and a pain.
Then I looked at the left column, the pros.
My pulse quickened as I saw the list, which filled the whole page and spilled onto the second, Oliver’s writing becoming larger and more sprawling as it went as if he’d been writing at great speed, trying to get the words out before he forgot them.
There were sensible reasons like the lower cost of living, a house of his own, closer to family, but then there were reasons that made my heart feel like it was going to explode.
I really like Lane. Lane is my best friend, plus he’s really funny and sexy.
Sparrow. I have more friends here. Pub quizzes.
Pub nights. Beach walks. Quieter. The feeling of freedom.
The fact Lane is here, and I don’t want to lose him again.
Dinners with Lane. Walks with Lane. We have great sex. He gets me. He’s my person.
And then written at the end, there were the three words neither of us had dared to say.
I love him.
I looked over at Oliver, who didn’t seem to be breathing, and held out the notebook.
“I love you too,” I said. “Always have. Always will. Even if I didn’t always know it.
I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.
I just tried to pretend I had. But my feelings were still there.
And they’re never leaving because it’s always been you. ”
Oliver’s fingers brushed against mine where they were resting on the sand between us. I interlaced them together, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine.
“I love you so much,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to put it into words.”
“You don’t have to.” I leant across the small distance between us, and our lips met in a gentle kiss. “I don’t need essays or poems or novels. I just need you.”
I felt Oliver smile, and my whole body relaxed like nine years of tension was slowly easing from my muscles. This was where we should’ve always been. It just took us a while to see it.
“There are still a few things I need to work out,” Oliver said as we broke apart, sitting back to look out at the sea but still holding my hand on the sand.
I followed his gaze and watched Sparrow potter along the shoreline, occasionally glancing over at us like some old woman shaking her head and muttering About damn time.
“Like your job?”
“Yeah. I want to keep editing if I can, and it’s not like I need to be in the office to do it.
I can easily edit from home, and I’ve actually been finding I’ve been more productive for the past few weeks.
Turns out sitting in an office all day and staring at a screen doesn’t mean I get work done.
I don’t know what Brian will say, but I can ask.
And I can always go down to London every so often for meetings.
It’s a bit of a pain to get there, but I could make it work. ”
I nodded, but a sudden nagging doubt had emerged. “And what if you can’t? You love your job. I don’t want you to have to give it up for me.”
Oliver shrugged. “Then I’ll find something else.
I love editing, but publishing is brutal—it’s not very well paid, the hours are long, and staff burnout is a regular thing.
Brian’s always protected us as best he can, but I still feel the effects.
I’d miss it, but it’s not my whole world.
And if I really want to, I can set up as a freelance editor and pick and choose my projects.
I’d like to think I’ve got enough experience under my belt that I’d be good at it and hopefully enough of a rep that I’d be able to get clients.
And there are a lot of self-published authors looking for editors.
And I can always combine that with something part-time or find another job entirely. ”
“If you’re sure,” I said. His words had assuaged some of my doubt, and it was clear he’d thought it all through, which helped. It wasn’t like he was making some impulsive decision just for me.
“I am.” He grinned. “And if all else fails, then I can try running a B & B or something. I’m not sure I’d be any good at it, but I’d like to think I’ve got enough practical experience to make it work.”
“Loading the dishwasher and cleaning the kitchen for pocket money doesn’t count,” I said. “Neither does stealing biscuits from the tin and denying all knowledge of it later.”
“Hey! I was seven. And you were eating them too.”
“I know. I’m just saying it’s not really practical business experience.”
Oliver laughed. “Maybe the B & B can be the last resort if everything else goes tits up. I haven’t actually asked Brian about work yet, so I might be worrying for nothing.”
“Even so, it’s good to have a back-up plan,” I said as I took another swig of my drink, and Oliver nodded. “Have you told your mum yet?”
“No.” Oliver shook his head. “I haven’t told anyone else. I wanted to talk to you first because you’re the most important part of this.”
“And if I told you to fuck off, you wouldn’t have to go round and tell everyone it wasn’t happening.”
“Yeah, something like that,” Oliver said with a chuckle. “Would you ever tell me to fuck off, though?”
“I might. I did before.” I swallowed. That had been a long time ago, and now more than ever, it was settled in the past. It wasn’t something for me to painfully relive, wishing things had ended differently.
“That was then, though, and this is now.” He squeezed my hand. “Things are going to be different this time. I promise.” Sparrow barked, splashing through the waves as she attempted to chase some sea birds that were long gone before she’d even gotten to them.
“Daft dog,” I said as I shook my head. “You wouldn’t think she was nearly twelve.”
“She’s happy, though.”
“She is. The beach is the one place where she still acts like a puppy. It makes me laugh every time.” We watched her bounce around on the edge of the shore, digging stones out of the sand and excitedly flinging a piece of seaweed up into the air before trying to catch it.
“In your note,” I added quietly, “you mentioned your promise. Is that the one I think it was? From when we were fifteen?”
“Yeah.” Oliver leant back to look up at the sky. “I wasn’t sure whether you’d remember or not.”