Chapter 7
Rhys could see why Lola and Mirabel were friends.
They had the same sparkling personality and there was something intriguing about them both.
The first time he’d met Mirabel, he’d understood why Fabs had fallen for her so hard.
As for Lola, she was likeable, upbeat and confident, but her beauty put her way out of his league.
Zoe was pretty, but Lola was beautiful in an understated way.
Zoe always tried too hard. Okay, perhaps he was being bitter because of the way two of his supposed friends had behaved behind his back.
This pact with Lola would give him a barrier to hide behind, plus it would be no hardship to spend time with her; Lola’s openness was refreshing and he’d felt at ease chatting to her.
He liked talking one on one. He often felt lost and unheard when in social situations.
Pretending that something had happened between him and Lola, though, might put them firmly in the limelight, but at least the attention would be turned away from him being alone and heartbroken.
Leaving without saying goodbye and ‘ grazie ’ to Giada and Lorenzo felt brazen, but Lola was right that the two of them disappearing would get the rumour mill going.
He’d called a taxi before they’d left the jetty, then they’d snuck out through the garden, skirting the long way round to avoid the groups of friends spilling onto the lawn in front of the terrace.
Lola had nipped inside to grab her bag, then they were in the taxi and zooming the short distance down the coast to Villa Capparis and back to the air con.
Hopefully it would be an easy story to sell, that they’d become swept up in the romanticism of the evening and the location, because it was stunning, not just Fabs’s family home, but the island itself, a jewel in the Mediterranean.
‘It’s weird being the only ones here,’ Rhys said as they strolled into the empty central living area with its patio doors that opened directly onto the garden.
‘I could get used to it.’ Lola went over to the bar and rummaged for glasses. She pulled out a bottle of wine from the fridge. ‘You like white?’
‘I’ll have whatever you’re having.’
Lola opened the bottle and joined him on one of the cream sofas. She poured two generous glasses of wine and handed him one.
‘To our love pact,’ she said as they clinked the glasses together. ‘Let’s give your ex and your bastard friend something to talk about.’
They sipped the wine, and the silence stretched between them. This was what he’d been fearful of earlier – being stuck with someone he didn’t know and uncertain what to say. Although they’d spent a good chunk of the evening together and the conversation had flowed. Until now.
But Lola managed to save them from an awkward silence. ‘You make stuff out of wood, right? Mirabel said you’re pretty nifty. Made them a wooden salad bowl and servers for a wedding present.’
‘She told you?’
‘She showed me photos.’ Lola raised her eyebrows. ‘They were stunning. And considering some of their wedding gifts have been eye-wateringly expensive and monstrously flashy, it speaks volumes that your gift is one of Mirabel’s favourites.’
She was good at this, chatting easily when they didn’t really know each other.
‘It’s something I love doing, and I wanted to give them a gift that meant something which they would appreciate.’
‘You nailed that brief.’
‘Woodworking is just a hobby, though.’
‘You’re talented enough to make a business out of it if you wanted to. You’ve not thought about it?’
Rhys sipped his wine. ‘I’ve been busy renovating my house.
Hand-built my kitchen and bookshelves in the living room.
I wouldn’t have time to do work for someone else, not with teaching.
It’s something I do for myself and find relaxing, but I’m currently taking a sabbatical so plan to spend a lot more time on woodworking projects.
I spent this summer building a workshop at the bottom of my garden.
The idea of turning what I love into a job worries me that it would change the way I feel about it. ’
‘Slightly different, I know, but music is my passion and I’ve turned my love for it into a career.
’ She slipped off her sandals and tucked her bare feet beneath her on the sofa.
‘And the same with any job, there are times that aren’t so great and I can’t hand on heart say I love every minute, but to be surrounded by music every day, listening to new artists, promoting the ones lucky enough to be signed and helping to shape future music – I can’t stress enough how lucky I am to earn my living doing something I love. It fuels me if that makes sense?’
‘You’ve turned your dream into reality.’ Rhys nodded. ‘That’s something to be envied.’
‘Did you always want to be a teacher?’
‘No, not at all. I studied law but swiftly realised it wasn’t a line of work I wanted to do for the rest of my life.
I volunteered at this craft club for disadvantaged children—’ He stopped short and swigged his wine to swallow his sudden discomfort.
He was rarely this open or shared so much, but what the hell, there was something about Lola that made him decide to keep talking.
‘Something just clicked. I know how corny it sounds, but working with and supporting those kids who got so much out of something so simple all because they didn’t have the opportunity to be creative at home – it changed my whole outlook.
I decided teaching the next generation was more in keeping with what I wanted to do and my values.
I saw first-hand the impact I could have on someone’s life. It gave me purpose too.’
He glanced at Lola to find her studying him with an openness and warmth that made him feel seen.
‘That’s quite a U-turn but incredible that it led you to a career that has such an impact on others. Working in the music industry pales in comparison when you’re guiding children to a bright future.’
‘You make me sound far worthier than I am.’
Lola playfully slapped his arm. ‘You’re underselling yourself.’
Rhys shrugged and decided to steer the conversation in a different direction. ‘Obviously you work in the music industry, but are you a musician as well?’
‘I play piano and guitar, and in school I had violin and singing lessons, but it’s listening to music that’s my first love. I never desired to be on stage. I’m not a good enough singer or musician to have pursued it as a career, but it’s a thrill to be in this line of work.’
‘You come across as someone who would excel and be happy on stage.’
Lola laughed and he was struck by just how beautiful she was. ‘I’m not as much of a show-off as you may think.’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean you were a show-off’ – he was mortified – ‘you just exude confidence.’
‘Says the person who stands in front of a classroom of kids on a daily basis – now that to me takes guts and a shedload of confidence.’
‘I’m in my comfort zone teaching children. Swap them with adults and, trust me, I’d clam up.’
‘Woodwork seems like it’s quite a solitary occupation. I’m sensing a theme going on here?’ She teased him with a sly smile.
‘You got me there.’ Rhys returned a grin. He swirled the wine around his glass and relaxed back into the deep sofa. ‘What did you get them? For a wedding present, I mean?’
‘What can you get a couple who have everything and who asked for nothing?’ She smiled warmly.
‘If I was as practical and skilled as you, then something along the lines of your gift would have been perfect, but I’m not blessed in that way creatively.
What I do know is music and I know Mirabel.
I also know how much Fabs loves her, so I put together their perfect playlist and framed the song list. I commissioned an artist friend to make it look good. ’
‘That’s as thoughtful as it gets, Lola.’
Their eyes met and she blushed. ‘Mirabel’s my best friend.
’ She shrugged, brushing off the compliment as if it was nothing.
She smoothed out the creases in her dress and sat forward.
‘I wonder what time everyone will get back? Perhaps we should make ourselves scarce before they return.’ She drained the rest of her wine.
‘Let’s leave the glasses – we can be cagey about it, but there’s no harm in letting rumours work in our favour. ’
Rhys followed her lead, finishing his wine and leaving his empty glass next to hers on the coffee table.
Lola mussed up the sofa cushions. ‘Let them wonder,’ she said with a wink. ‘Actually, one last thing.’ She scooped up her phone from the coffee table, opened up the camera and switched it to selfie mode.
With her arm flung across his shoulder and her head resting in the crook of his neck, he put his arm around her waist. She smelt delicious, a fresh mandarin scent, and her eyes were cornflower blue – he hadn’t noticed in the darkness of the jetty.
‘Don’t look so worried!’ She tugged him closer. ‘Smile!’
He tried to focus on her rather than himself. He’d been faking being okay for a while to get through the day, but her vivaciousness made him let go of his inhibitions and not concentrate on what he looked like.
As she snapped a handful of photos, Rhys tried not to let his worry show. He wasn’t drunk enough and not 100 per cent convinced they were doing the right thing, but he was swept up by her enthusiasm and her magnetic smile.
‘There we go. Proof.’
She clicked on the last photo she’d taken and he was struck by how convincing they looked, cosy and happy like they were enjoying each other’s company, which he realised they had. At least he had.
They swapped numbers and she sent him the selfie.
‘Right,’ she said, tucking her phone into her bag. ‘I’m going to head to bed before everyone gets back. I’ll see you in the morning when we can have some fun.’ She spun round on her heel. ‘A different kind of fun than we had this evening!’ She grinned. ‘Night, Rhys.’
‘Night, Lola.’
He watched her until she disappeared. Leaving the empty wine glasses on the table as Lola suggested – even though he was itching to clear up after himself – he headed to his room, which was on the opposite side of the villa to hers.
Although he’d been put at the other end of the hallway to Freddie and Zoe, they were still too close for his liking and he clenched his fists as he walked past their room.
He needed to worry less and care more about the things that mattered, not about a past he couldn’t change.
He should really take Giada’s advice and live a little, have fun.
He was in Sardinia, a place that held only happy memories, so he should make more of them.
Spending the end of the evening talking to Lola was a good start.
After getting a wash, cleaning his teeth and changing into boxers and a T-shirt, he slipped into bed.
He clicked on the photo Lola had sent him.
While her eyes danced with mischievousness, all he could see of himself was that his smile didn’t reach his eyes – he looked weary, a shadow next to Lola.
Would anyone actually believe that a woman as stunning as Lola would wind up with him?
Maybe, if they thought they’d both been drunk and stuff had happened without them intending it to.
Perhaps he’d let Lola lead in the morning, in case she’d changed her mind.
The idea that the only way he’d feel less alone was to pretend to be with someone punched a hole in his heart.
He fisted the sheet and breathed deeply, trying to tell himself to think less negatively about the situation, his go-to reaction.
Lola’s company had been easy and he’d felt more relaxed chatting to her than he had with anyone for a long time.
Perhaps the next few days were looking up.
Companionship and her friendship would be welcome.
That side of things wouldn’t be hard to fake.