18
Milly
Milly stepped out of Brendan’s sports car and grabbed the skirt of her dress before the breeze could catch it and expose the underwear Nicole had insisted that she wear. (Why? There was no way she was ready to show another person her underwear.) It had been years since she’d worn this dress, and she’d forgotten how flimsy it was. Still, it had given her a quiet confidence boost, and she was grateful to Nicole for insisting she try it on. Less grateful for her friend’s insistence that she wear the shoes.
All she’d done so far was walk to the car, but already they were biting into her feet. What had possessed her to buy them in the first place? They’d been purchased for a wedding, and she recalled dancing barefoot at that same wedding, which presumably meant she’d found them unwearable after the first few hours.
She silently cursed Nicole as she walked with Brendan to the restaurant, trying not to twist her ankle. She wore flats or trainers when she was working and walking in heels felt strange and unsafe. If this was what Nicole had to endure each time she appeared on a red carpet, then she felt sorry for her.
Fortunately, she made it inside without drama or mishap, and they were shown to a table on the terrace. It had an uninterrupted view of the lake and beyond to the craggy fells in the distance.
And when she glanced around her at the other diners, she was glad Nicole had made her wear the dress. It had been the right choice.
And Brendan looked good too, although it crossed her very undisciplined mind that he’d looked equally good fresh out of the shower, wearing just shorts.
Tonight he was wearing a pair of chinos and a pale blue shirt the same shade as his eyes. Of course, deciding what to wear was easier for men, particularly when it came to shoes.
She was willing to bet his footwear wasn’t testing the level of his pain threshold.
She was looking forward to sitting down so that she could give her feet a break.
“This is incredible. I had no idea this terrace existed.”
In her opinion the restaurant had earned its reputation, and that was before she sampled the food. “How on earth did you get a table here at such short notice? Who did you bribe?”
“No one. I called and told them I needed a table for a special celebration. Turns out the chef is a fan. This table cost me an entire set of signed copies, and the promise that his name will appear in my next book.”
She laughed. “So does that mean that the murder victim is no longer called Callum?”
“He’s still Callum. But somewhere in there I have to introduce a chef. This table is okay for you? You’re happy being outdoors?”
“It’s perfect.”
She settled herself in her seat, slid off her shoes with a quiet sigh of relief and gazed at the view. The surface of the lake sparkled in the late evening sunshine and a few sheep were grazing close to the shoreline. “I’ve read brilliant things about this place.”
She glanced around her, taking a proper look at their fellow diners. Their table was surely the best in the restaurant, tucked into a corner away from the rest of the guests. The terrace was strung with miniature lanterns, and candles flickered in the center of each table. It was the sort of place that stayed in the memory of the people who were lucky enough to eat here.
She had a feeling she wouldn’t be forgetting it in a hurry either.
She’d been worried she wouldn’t know what to say or what to do because it had been so long since she’d had dinner with a man who wasn’t Richard, but Brendan seemed so comfortable and relaxed she found herself relaxing too.
“You and Richard didn’t eat out much?”
“Generally I cooked.”
He always said he preferred her food, but now she wondered if he was just saving money that he’d then spent on Avery.
She shut down that thought. She was not letting Richard or Avery intrude on this evening.
Tonight was special, and she intended to enjoy every moment.
A burst of laughter from a table close by made her turn her head, and she noticed a woman casting surreptitious glances in Brendan’s direction.
She seemed to be making a decision about something, and then she stood up and approached the table.
“I know this is an intrusion, but I just had to say I love your books.”
Her face was scarlet. “Would you sign my menu? I’ll use it as a bookmark.”
To his credit Brendan was gracious and charming and signed the menu, and the woman returned to her seat flourishing her prize.
Brendan gave Milly a look of apology. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry.”
She almost confessed that she was used to it because her best friend was Nicole Raven, but she stopped herself in time. Even if Brendan and Nicole had worked together, there was no way she’d reveal her friend’s presence. “Do you get hounded by the press a lot?”
“The press? No.”
He shook his head. “More that I’m hounding them because a certain amount of publicity is useful when a book comes out. But I don’t get followed down the street or anything. Occasionally a reader recognizes me, but when they do, I’m grateful. Without readers I wouldn’t have this job.”
She’d looked him up and read a couple of detailed features on him, so she knew the public were interested in the man behind the books.
And in that moment the reality of the situation hit her. She was here, on a date, with Brendan Scott. And she felt like an impostor. In her head she could hear Richard’s voice telling her she was no fun. She tried to block it out, but the words were imprinted on her memory. The pressure to be entertaining company almost had her walking out of the restaurant.
When Brendan had suggested dinner it had sounded like a good idea, but now she was here, sitting across from him it felt intimate and awkward and totally different from the encounters they’d had when he’d been wearing cutoff shorts and four days of stubble.
Flustered, she studied the menu without seeing anything on the page.
What was she going to talk about? The weather? She was going to bore him to death before the main course was served.
Brendan put his menu down. “I probably ought to warn you that there is every chance I’ve actually forgotten how to do this.”
“This?”
She looked up and tried to look natural and not as if she was close to having a panic attack. “You mean eating dinner?”
“No. I never forget how to eat. That’s a talent I was born with.”
He smiled. “I mean being sociable. I’ve been trapped indoors focused on the book for so long I may have forgotten how to talk to an actual person. Most of the people I’ve been relating to over the past couple of months have been fictional. I’m not sure I can remember how to converse with a real human being, so you’ll have to be patient and forgive me if I’m less than scintillating company.”
He was worried that he might not be good company?
She almost laughed. “It’s a new experience for me too, but for different reasons.”
“You haven’t been out much since your divorce?”
“No. When you’re a single working mother, life has a tendency to get in the way.”
She didn’t tell him that she’d had no wish to go on a date with anyone until he’d invited her.
And she was still wondering why she’d said yes.
“Well, that’s good, because now that we’ve both admitted we’re very out of practice neither of us has to try and impress the other.”
Really? It couldn’t possibly be that easy, could it?
The waiter arrived at their table, and they both placed their orders.
“Do you always work that intensely when you’re writing?”
Milly thought about all the notes stuck around the cabin and the fact that the fridge was usually empty. “It must be exhausting. Not very healthy.”
“It’s not healthy at all, but over the years I’ve discovered what works best for me. If I keep walking away from the book and taking time out, it’s harder to get started again when I sit down at my laptop. I prefer to immerse myself, work so hard I forget to eat and tidy up—”
his brief look of apology was an acknowledgment of the fact that she’d witnessed the state of his cabin “—and finish a draft. Then I can relax and take my time over the revision process. I’ve learned that if I live with those characters day in, day out for a few months I stay locked in the story. Creativity doesn’t always respect office hours.”
“So you emerge at the end of your few months and discover that the world has ended and your bins are overflowing.”
“Something like that.”
It fascinated her to hear about a life that was so different from hers. “Still, it must be very satisfying writing a book that people love to read.”
“It is. Just as it must be satisfying cooking something that people can’t wait to eat, or running a place like Forest Nest where people go to escape and make happy memories. Different skill set, but still a skill. You’re good at what you do.”
She wondered if he was making fun of her. Not the cooking, she could see the validity in that comparison, but the rest? “Making beds and cleaning bathrooms?”
“I was thinking more about how you make people feel relaxed and welcome. I saw you the other day with that little girl. She was giving you a picture she’d drawn for you. I bumped into them later in the café. Her parents told me she’d been in hospital and that you’d sent her a note and a gift.”
“Katy? The family have been coming here since before she was born. They spent their honeymoon at Forest Nest. They rang to say they might not be able to use their week because poor Katy was in hospital and they thought they should cancel so that we could rebook it.”
“But you wouldn’t let them. You held the week for them anyway and said you’d absorb the cost if necessary.”
He nodded. “They told me. And they also told me that looking forward to being here kept Katy going when she was sick. What would have happened if they hadn’t been able to come?”
“I either would have tried to rent it at the last minute or I would have lost money.”
She shrugged. “Probably not the best business decision, but I can’t think of anything more stressful than having a child in hospital. I didn’t want them to worry about the holiday on top of everything else.”
They paused the conversation as their appetizers were placed on the table.
He picked up his fork. “I don’t think it was a bad business decision. You have guaranteed that they’ll be returning here every year for the foreseeable future, I should imagine. But I know you didn’t do it for that reason. You’re the warmest, kindest person I’ve ever met.”
His voice was gruff. “Also your cooking skills are off the scale. I’m convinced you’re the reason I finished the book. It’s the first time I’ve reached this stage and felt fresh and clearheaded. Normally I’m existing on a diet of junk food and sugar, and it takes me a while to recover. The other night I dreamed about your lemon chicken. I’d ask for the recipe, but I know I wouldn’t be able to reproduce it.”
She made a mental note to make him her lemon chicken again soon.
“Did you always want to be a writer?”
“I always loved telling stories and reading, but I assumed everyone was like that,”
he said. “I didn’t know that most people don’t walk around with stories and characters in their heads. And it didn’t cross my mind that it could be a career until I began working as a lawyer. I realized how complex people are. Everyone around me was interested in the what. The facts of the case. I was more interested in the why. What makes good people do bad things?”
She was interested in the why too. Why Richard had behaved the way he had. Why he was always so moody with her now.
“Thinking about the why sounds more like psychology than law.”
“An interest in psychology helps when you’re a writer. I’ve always been curious about people.”
“But you write about bad people.”
“Sometimes, but the most interesting villains are the ones who start out as good people but get driven to do bad things by circumstances. Maybe they make a decision that seems right at the time and turns out to be a mistake. Then they have to cover up the mistake, so they make another decision and that’s worse.”
“So you’re saying that the chef that needs to be in your book was a really good person until someone stole his fish knife? Then when he found out, he gutted them.”
The smile spread across his face. “You’re better at this than you think.”
Despite her anxiety, the conversation flowed, and over the best meal she’d ever eaten they traded life histories. She discovered that he’d spent the first five years of his life in Cumbria, and then his parents had separated and he’d gone to live with his mother in Boston.
“You’re not in touch with your father?”
“No. My mother always said that parenthood didn’t suit him. I have no memories of him. He died shortly after they separated. How about you?”
“My dad left when I was twelve. And it was hard.”
She didn’t need to elaborate. Brendan was a writer. She knew instinctively that he’d sense all the things she was leaving unsaid. “He said he loved me and would always love me, but all I kept thinking was that however much he loved me it wasn’t enough for him to want to stick around. I think that’s why I married Richard so young. I was looking for stability, and he seemed to offer that.”
She’d never said it aloud before. Never really acknowledged it. “I was looking for some sort of guarantee, and of course, that doesn’t exist.”
“No,”
he said. “But that early experience shaped you. And it must have made it extra tough when Richard left because you were dealing with parts of the past as well as the present.”
“Yes.”
It was true, and she wondered how he could see instantly what it had taken her ages to work out. “But mostly I was worried about Zoe. About the impact on her.”
“She’s lucky to have a mother like you. I think you’re incredible. And resilient. You’re running a business and raising a child, and you still find time to make delicious lemon chicken and nurture your guests.”
He thought she was incredible. Not boring or a martyr. Incredible.
She flushed. “I’m just getting on with life.”
“That’s the very definition of resilience. Did your mother marry again?”
“No. Her friends were always trying to match her with people, but she wasn’t interested. And we never talked about it until last year when Richard left, and she told me then that she’d grown to love her life exactly the way it was and that she had no intention of disrupting it. I think she liked the idea of being in control of all aspects of her life. But it was difficult for her when Richard left me because it brought it all back for her too.”
He nodded. “It must be hard watching your child go through tough times. You’re lucky to have such close family.”
“I know.”
And she felt guilty for all the worry she’d caused her mother. She was going to make sure that from now on she would be a bundle of sunny positivity whenever she visited. “How about you? Never married?”
Their main course was delivered at that moment and he waited until they were alone again to answer.
“I married straight out of law school, and it lasted a year. So I think we can both agree it was something I wasn’t good at. But it was an experience, and all experiences teach you something.”
“I think relationships are just hard. People change, and they want different things.”
He studied her for a moment. “What do you want?”
In that moment he reminded her of Nicole. If you could have three wishes . . .
It was something she rarely thought about because she was so focused on making it through each day, but she thought about it now and realized that she’d been stuck in the present since Richard had left, and that was entirely her fault.
She hadn’t wanted Richard to walk out. She hadn’t wanted him to leave her. She hadn’t wanted any of it to happen, and because of that she’d refused to let herself move on. And by not moving on, by not accepting things as they were, by looking for areas of blame both in herself and him, she’d kept things the same. But they weren’t the same, and all she was really doing was denying the truth. And denying herself a future. She’d spent her whole time looking back, wanting to somehow find the place where she’d dropped the ball so that she could undo everything that had happened, but now she realized that there was no going back. There never had been. There was only what lay ahead, and instead of seeing a bleak future she saw possibilities.
What did she want?
“I want what I have,”
she said finally. “Is that boring? Maybe it is to someone else, but I love Forest Nest and the people who stay with us. I love this part of the world, and it feels like a privilege to be able to live and work here.”
“You love the people who stay with you, with the exception of the moody thriller writer.”
“He’s appalling,”
she agreed. “Nightmare guest.”
“You could do away with him.”
“Generally we find that murdering our guests doesn’t have a positive impact on customer reviews, but I suppose we might risk it if it was truly warranted.”
She stared at him. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because you’re funny. You’re good company. Here, try this.”
He speared a piece of meat and handed it to her. “But brace yourself. Because it’s going to be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”
“This whole meal is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
She ate the meat and made an appreciative sound. “You’re right. That’s good.”
“Isn’t it? Have another piece.”
“I’d better not. I don’t want to think about how many calories are in that.”
“Why would you even care? We’re eating out somewhere special. We can worry about calories tomorrow. Or not.”
And it was such a change from Richard, who on more than one occasion had said, “Are you sure you want that slice of toast, Milly?”
that she took another bite of his food and offered him some of hers, and in that moment she didn’t feel like someone’s wife or even their ex-wife. She didn’t feel like Zoe’s mother or the boss of Forest Nest. She felt like herself. Milly.
They ate and talked, and talked some more until eventually the people around them melted away, and they were the last people left on the candlelit terrace.
When they finally walked back to his car she had a powerful urge to take his hand, but she resisted, afraid that she might do or say something she’d later regret, but then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, and she kissed him back, feeling the hard pressure of his body against hers, the flat of his hand on the small of her back urging her closer, and the warmth and skill of his mouth on hers. The kiss came with a promise of something more, something she hadn’t imagined for herself, hadn’t even known she needed. She wanted the moment to last forever, and when she finally eased away from him, dizzy and happy, she discovered that she regretted nothing.
They drove home, and he had one hand on the wheel and the other on her leg.
She covered his hand with hers.
Neither of them said anything until they pulled up outside the boathouse, and then he turned to her, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again.
“Milly, Milly,”
he murmured the words against her mouth, “I don’t want tonight to end.”
“Neither do I.”
His lips traced a path from her mouth to her jaw. “My cabin is just down the track.”
She closed her eyes, transported by his touch. She was tempted, oh so tempted, but another part of her knew she wasn’t ready. She had so much to think about. So much to process. And she was glad that she had Nicole staying because she knew it would help to talk it through. “Tonight was a big step for me. I’ve been with Richard since I was twenty-one.”
He drew back. “So we’ll take it slowly.”
He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “How would you feel about a second date?”
He made it all sound so easy and natural. She smiled at him. “I’d like that. When?”
“Tomorrow?”
She was ridiculously flattered that he wanted to see her again so soon. “Zoe is back tomorrow evening.”
“Does that matter?”
She thought about it. “I’m not sure I’m ready to introduce another change into her life at the moment.”
But something had changed in her own life.
This was the first time since Richard had left her that she hadn’t spent the whole weekend thinking about Zoe with Richard and Avery and feeling slightly sick. The first time that the focus had been on herself. And it made her realize that she needed to stop wasting her weekends worrying and start living her life.
He let his hand drop. “You’re a good mother. So how about lunch during your working day? She’d be at school?”
“Yes, I could do that.”
“Good, let me know when.”
“I wouldn’t be disturbing you?”
“Some things are worth being disturbed for.”
He waited until she was safely inside the boathouse, and she watched from the door as the lights from his car gradually vanished into the distance.
She felt a brief moment of regret that she hadn’t gone back to his cabin with him, then she turned and saw Nicole standing there.
Her arms were folded, her foot was tapping, and she had a big expectant grin on her face. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Details! I want details.”
Milly walked through to the kitchen, the smile she was wearing on the inside almost as big as the one on the outside. “Nothing to tell.”
“You’re lying. I can tell by the happy expression on your face that you’re lying.”
Nicole followed her, determined not to let it drop.
“The food was wonderful.”
“I’m not asking about the food.”
Milly poured herself a glass of water. Took her time. “The terrace of the restaurant was pretty. Great views.”
“Not asking about that either, although I’m glad obviously.”
Milly drank the water. “I had a lovely evening. Brendan was very good company.”
“Of course he was. So why didn’t you go back to his cabin?”
“Because I have a guest staying.”
Nicole looked appalled. “Please tell me you’re joking. You came back for me?”
“No. And I am joking. I came back for me.”
She put the glass down. “Because although I was tempted, very tempted, I’m not ready to take it further yet.”
“What?”
Nicole’s shoulders slumped. “Why not?”
“Do you have any idea what a step forward tonight was for me? I went on a date. That is the first time I’ve dated anyone since Richard. It felt strange and a bit scary.”
“But he obviously put you at ease.”
“He was easy to talk to. A good listener. And—”
“And?”
Nicole’s eyes lit up with anticipation, and Milly laughed.
“And he’s a very good kisser.”
“I knew it.”
Nicole gave a sigh of satisfaction and grabbed a couple of mugs from the cupboard. “This calls for hot chocolate and a girly heart-to-heart in bed, like we used to.”
“I’ve just eaten a meal.”
“You’ll be fine. Hot chocolate is an essential part of a midnight confession session. Also it’s one of the few things I can make without consulting the internet.”
Nicole prepared it, and together they carried the mugs up to Milly’s bedroom.
And as they curled up on Milly’s bed, talking about everything and nothing until the early hours, Milly felt truly happy for the first time in ages. It wasn’t just the kiss, or the delicious anticipation of her next meeting with Brendan, it was the knowledge that finally, after all the ups and downs and heartbreak, she had her best friend back. And if anything it felt as if they were even closer than before.
And no matter what happened in the future she was sure this time, absolutely positive, that nothing would ever come between them again.