Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lydia brushed sand from her skirt, trying to steady her breathing after the children’s innocent but piercing comment.
They had already darted back toward the makeshift pitch, their laughter rising above the hush of the waves.
She slipped her boots back on, keeping her eyes fixed on the sand.
She needed to leave. She needed space. She needed to get her thoughts under control before they ran ahead of her.
She turned toward the promenade path, the one that curved along the sea wall toward the cliff steps. The breeze lifted her hair, cooling the heat in her cheeks. She walked quickly, hoping no one would notice her slipping away.
“Lydia,” a voice called behind her, warm but uncertain.
She kept walking, her pulse quickening.
“Lydia… wait,” he tried again, closer this time.
She stopped. Not because she wanted to — but because running would have been worse. She turned slowly, her expression carefully composed. “William.”
He stepped closer but maintained a respectful distance. His face looked open, earnest, and deeply concerned.
“I just wanted to check you were all right,” he said quietly. “This is about what you saw at the café, isn’t it?”
Lydia’s stomach twisted. She looked away toward the glittering line of the sea, unsettled that her brief glimpse through the window was now hanging between them.
“It’s nothing,” she said. “Really.”
“That woman approached me while I was waiting to pay.” His voice remained calm and steady. “When she touched my arm, I stepped away. She asked me to have coffee with her, and I said no.”
Lydia’s breath caught. Looking at him, it was painfully clear that he was telling the truth.
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” she said, though her voice sounded thin even to her own ears.
“Maybe not.” William kept his hands in his pockets, maintaining the respectful distance between them. “But I don’t want you upset over something that didn’t happen.”
A long silence stretched between them — not hostile, but fragile. Lydia wrapped her arms around herself as the sea breeze tugged at her green cardigan.
“It caught me off guard,” she admitted at last. “That’s all.”
William nodded slowly. “I’m sorry it hurt you.”
Her throat tightened. “Thank you.”
Another silence followed, this one gentler. The children’s laughter drifted along the beach, Rob’s competitive shout carrying over the sand. A gull cried overhead while the waves rolled steadily toward the shore.
William shifted his weight. “Would you like to come back and join the game? Sophie’s still convinced you’re our secret weapon.”
Lydia managed a small, genuine smile. “I think I’ve used up all my athletic ability for the next decade.”
He laughed softly, the warm, low sound tugging at something inside her.
“All right,” he said. “But will you stay? Just for a bit?”
Lydia hesitated. Her heart said yes. Her fear said no. William had explained what happened, but the ghosts of Málaga were not silenced so easily.
“I’ll walk for a little longer,” she said, stepping back toward the path. “But thank you, William.”
He accepted her decision without pressure. “I’ll see you later, then.”
She turned toward the path, her steps slower now. The misunderstanding had loosened, but the fear beneath it remained. Even so, for the first time since the café, she could breathe.