Chapter Four
Archer
Beth walks quietly beside me, looking out to sea. I risk a glance at her, my pulse picking up speed again at the thought that she’s coming back to my house with me. I’ve dreamed of this often… but not in this way. Not after just breaking up with Jude. Not surrounded by such sadness and sorrow.
There’s no danger of me getting carried away with my daydreams. I’m still convinced there’s a chance that Jude will contact her and tell her it’s all been a mistake, and then she’ll go running back to him.
I’ll be thankful I was there for her as a friend, and not taking advantage of her misery to tell her how I feel about her, in the hope that she’ll cling to me for comfort like a drowning woman to a piece of driftwood.
“I love your house,” she says. She’s been there a few times with Jude. “It’s so beautifully situated, and it always feels so comfortable.”
“Thank you. Yeah, it’s a great place. I’ve made a lot of changes since Dad died. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if I’d sold the place, though.”
We turn left and head up the hill that slopes gently away from the beach. The Cole family home sits halfway up, with a glorious view of Sunrise Bay and the Pacific beyond. The low, rhythmic hush of the waves in the distance blends with the soft chorus of cicadas from the bush behind the village.
She sighs. “It’s difficult when houses hold memories. Your mum died quite a long time ago, right?”
“I was fifteen. She had breast cancer.”
“I’m so sorry. And your dad died three years ago?”
“Yeah.”
“I wish I’d met him. Do you think he would have liked me?”
The question surprises me. “He’d have adored you. He liked kind people.”
“That’s nice. I’ve heard so much about him. He played a big part in the community, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. He was President of the local Rotary Club and helped raise hundreds of thousands of dollars for charities. He had such energy and drive. He made you feel as if every problem could be fixed, if you worked hard enough.”
“What job did he do?”
“He was a senior partner at a law firm.”
“Clever guy.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Do you think you take after him?”
“Oh, I’m nowhere near as smart.”
She scoffs. “Now you’re being self-deprecating. You’re the smartest guy I know.”
I’m incredibly flattered by that statement. For a start, Jude’s not dumb and he’s her boyfriend. She also works with a bunch of incredibly intelligent people.
She’s just being nice, I tell myself. No need to freak out about it.
“Wow,” I say, “that’s very kind. But I know my limits, and they’re nowhere near my father’s. He was a bigger man than I am in every way.”
She looks at me then, her brown eyes curious. “You know how you’re viewed in this community, right? You’re incredibly well thought of. Well-respected. And very important to lots of people, including me.”
“That’s good to know.”
She frowns. “You say the words, but I don’t think you mean them.”
I slide my hand into my pocket and extract my keys as we turn onto the drive. “Sure I do.”
“But—”
“Wow, the moon is bright tonight.” I walk up to the front door, slide my key in, and step back to let her pass.
She flicks me an exasperated glare, but slips past me, leaving the scent of her perfume lingering in the night air, something lightly floral with a touch of jasmine, making me think of lying in bed with her on late summer nights. I try not to sigh as I follow her in and close the door behind me.
“I just love this living room,” she says, walking past the cream sofa and chairs to the windows on the far side.
“What a wonderful view.” The house sits at an angle, north facing to take advantage of the sunlight all day, and looks out across the twinkling lights of Sunrise Bay and the lagoon beyond.
“Yeah, it’s one reason I stayed.” I toss my keys on the table by the door and flick a switch that turns on a couple of small lamps, leaving the harsh main light off.
I look around the open-plan kitchen, dining, and living areas.
When Dad died, I got rid of a lot of my parents’ dark furniture that cluttered the place up, including two separate sofas, several sets of nested tables, a big oak dining table and chairs, a couple of large dressers, and some huge, old oil paintings.
I replaced them with a single sofa and two armchairs, a glass coffee table, and a much smaller glass dining table, and repainted the forest-green walls a light cream.
I also replaced the dark-brown carpet with a light-gray flecked one.
The place feels lighter for it. Now I have room to breathe.
I walk across to the kitchen. “What do you want to drink? Coffee?”
“Do you have wine?”
“Yeah. You sure you want any more?”
“Don’t be an old woman. If I’ve ever needed to get drunk, this is the time.”
I chuckle, opening the fridge and retrieving a bottle of Sauvignon. “Fair enough.” I didn’t like the thought of her getting inebriated in the bar, even though I know Tyr wouldn’t have allowed anything to happen to her. Here she’s safe, and I can keep an eye on her.
She lowers onto the left-hand cushion of the sofa. “This is so comfy. I’ll probably doze off halfway through the next glass. If I fall asleep here, just chuck a blanket over me.”
I get a glass and pour a generous amount in, then retrieve the JD bottle for myself. “Will do. Although I do have a couple of spare bedrooms.”
“I like the idea of sleeping here and waking up to the sunrise. It must be amazing.”
“It is. This whole room glows orange.” I toss some ice into a glass and pour the JD over it.
Then I bring the glasses through to the living room.
I put them on the coffee table, go back into the kitchen, and find a big packet of salt and vinegar kettle chips in the cupboard, because I know she likes them.
I tip them into a big bowl, take it back into the living room, and place it next to her before going over to one of the armchairs.
“You won’t be able to reach them from over there,” she scolds as I’m about to sit, and she pats the sofa.
In the background, along with the sound of the sea and the singing of the cicadas, I can hear bells chime softly. It’s the inner warning system I set up years ago, when Jude first introduced me to his new girlfriend.
Mentally, I switch it off and sit on the right-hand sofa cushion, moving the bowl of chips between us.
She turns toward me, bringing up her feet and sitting cross-legged.
Lifting a hand, she takes the elastic band holding back her ponytail, draws it down her hair, and tosses it onto the coffee table, then runs a hand through her brown locks, loosening them so they fall past her shoulders.
I try not to stare. She rarely wears her hair down, and it looks thick, soft, and glorious.
“Has Jude texted you?” I ask, trying to bring him back between us.
She takes out her phone and checks it, then tosses it onto the coffee table with a clang. “Nope.”
I frown. “What an idiot. He’s going to regret this tomorrow.”
She sips her wine, then looks out at the view of the moon above the sea. “Maybe. Maybe not. This hasn’t come from nowhere. It’s been a long, slow decline. I’m sure it was inevitable, eventually.”
I think about the fact that she admitted she and Jude haven’t slept together for a month.
That shocked me. I know they bicker. And I understand that Kim’s problems and the issue of Beth worrying about her fertility has caused stress between them.
But I thought Jude loved her. She’s his girlfriend, and she’s so gentle and easy to love.
Why on earth wouldn’t he want her in his bed twenty-four-seven?
I shouldn’t ask more about this, but I’m curious as to which of them is responsible for not wanting sex.
I can’t imagine it’s Jude. Although I’ve come across some frustrated and neglected women in my job, their husbands are usually much older, and my experience is that most young guys want sex as often as they can get it. It must be Beth.
“I’m sorry you’ve been having trouble,” I say carefully. “Is it mainly the fertility issue that’s been the problem? I know it can put a huge amount of stress on couples.”
“Honestly? Not really. I mean we talked about it, but we weren’t actively trying for a baby.” She’s already talking about him in the past tense.
“But you’d discussed having children?”
She looks into her glass. “Not in so many words. It was one of the last things he said. That I never asked him. I just assumed he’d want them.
I mean, like you said, I know young guys don’t always think about it, but most people assume they’ll have a family one day.
” She gives me a curious look. “Do you want kids?”
“Oh yeah. When I meet the right girl.”
She completely misses the wry comment I add. “Yeah, I think most guys would say something like that. The fact that he was so adamant that he doesn’t completely threw me.”
I try not to sigh. “That must be frustrating for you.”
“Yeah.” She surveys me for a moment, thinking. I sip my whiskey and crunch on a chip, waiting. “Can I tell you something?” she asks eventually.
“Sure.”
“Obviously, I talked a lot to Kim about the fact that all the women in our family have endo. Donna didn’t have as much trouble conceiving, but it still took her close to a year.
I’m on the pill—not the combined one, the mini one, because it’s supposed to make it easier for your cycle to get back to normal when you stop taking it. ”
I nod, because I’ve read the same.
“Kim told me to stop taking it and start getting my cycle back to normal, so when we decided it was time to start trying, I wouldn’t have to wait. I told Jude what she’d said, and that was what started it all off.”
“He didn’t approve?”
“He completely flipped out. He took it at first that she was saying I should stop without telling him, and that I’d considered it.”
“He thought you were trying to trap him?” I’m astounded. “Didn’t he know you at all?”