Chapter 29
There isn’t always a ‘but’
“This is amazing! Remind me to thank Bambi for the upgrade later,” I joke.
Our room is incredible. (Yes, room, singular.
Connor is still insisting on keeping a close eye on me, despite me feeling much better.) The huge bed is made with crisp white sheets, with an intricately carved wooden headboard at the top.
The cream carpet is thick and bouncy under my sandals as I walk over to the floor-to-ceiling window.
We have a perfect view of the sea, and I take a minute to stand and appreciate the sun glistening on the calm water.
“I’m sorry about Bambi, I didn’t realise she still worked here,” Connor says awkwardly as he opens his suitcase and starts to unpack his clothes.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” I reply without turning from the peaceful view.
“I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
“The wrong idea about what?” I watch a boat pass slowly across the horizon, its sails billowing in the breeze. “You and the baby deer? You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Connor.”
“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”
I feel Connor move to stand close behind me, and when he doesn’t say anything, I turn to face him. He’s standing closer than I realised, towering over me, looking down at me seriously. My heart races at his close proximity, but I’m soon overwhelmed with worry.
“You okay?” I ask, concerned. Why is he looking at me like that? Have I done something wrong?
After an uncomfortable beat he says, “Can we talk? Tonight? Let me take you out for dinner and we’ll talk?”
“Yeah, okay,” I answer quietly. I start to file through my memory trying to figure out what I’ve done to upset him. Maybe he didn’t like me making fun of Bambi? Or maybe he’s realised it was a huge mistake to invite me back into his life and he wants me to find somewhere else to live?
“Good.” Connor looks at me for a moment longer, his face still unreadable. He turns back to his suitcase.
I follow suit and unpack my clothes into the wardrobe next to his.
My phone charger and the books Connor packed for me find a home on the bedside table to the left of the bed, and I set out my cosmetics on one side of the dressing table.
When I come back from putting away my toiletries in the bathroom, Connor has rearranged the items on the dressing table, pairing up our individual items into couples: his aftershave with my perfume, my hairbrush with his gel.
I might find it cute if I weren’t riddled with anxiety.
As I unpack, I run through all of the reasons Connor might have to be annoyed with me, each scenario wilder and more upsetting than the last. After half an hour of fretting through small talk, I can’t take it anymore.
“Have I done something wrong?” I blurt out.
Connor turns from his phone to look at me from his place sitting on the bed, but my verbal diarrhoea doesn’t give him chance to respond.
“Because if I have, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to do anything, but I understand if you’re upset, anyway.
I can go if you want me to? I’ll get the train home.
I can probably catch one if I leave now.
I would still like to know what I did, though, so I know for next time.
Not that there’s going to be a next time… ”
Connor’s expression is a cross between confused and amused. “What are you talking about?”
I feel my eyebrows knit together, and my chest tightens uncomfortably.
“You got all serious and said you wanted to talk. I’ve been trying to figure out what I’ve done wrong,” I say.
“I don’t think I can wait until tonight.
Can you please just tell me what I’ve done so I can apologise and get out of your way? ”
“Oh, you haven’t done anything wrong!” Connor instantly stands and walks over to me in two long strides, pulling me into his chest. “I can’t believe you assumed I was upset with you. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re not annoyed?” Relief washes over me like a wave in the sea, and I relax in his hold.
“Not at all. I promise.” Connor strokes my hair as he speaks in soothing tones. I realise that the same strategies he uses to calm me down could also be used on highly strung dogs, but I don’t dwell on it for too long.
“You don’t want me to leave?”
“I would be devastated if you did.”
My heart swells at his whispered confession, and my fists cling tighter to the back of his shirt.
“How about we take a walk, and we can talk now rather than wait until later? I don’t want you worrying for hours. That way we can just enjoy our meal tonight?”
I take a discrete sniff of Connor’s chest, taking full advantage of being close enough to him to inhale his scent. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.
“I’d like that,” I say. “And you’re sure it’s nothing bad?”
“God, I hope not.”
We leave the hotel soon after – thankfully Bambi isn’t at the reception desk – and cross the road so we can walk along the pebble beach.
As we walk, we stop to admire pretty stones or seashells, and Connor even persuades me to take a selfie with him against the beautiful landscape.
I rarely agree to having my photo taken, but after my little meltdown in the hotel room, I didn’t want to seem like a diva.
He puts his arm around my shoulders and holds up his phone to snap the picture, and I try to smile, but my stomach is a nest of snakes, wriggling around and making me feel sick.
I take a few minutes to breathe the nausea away as he taps on his phone.
“There.” He smiles, turning his phone to show me the screen. “That’s better than the pre-set background, isn’t it?”
Yes, he’s set our selfie as his background, and honestly, I don’t know what to make of that. So I smile and nod awkwardly.
I can’t wait much longer for Connor to say what he has to say, but at the same time, I’m avoiding having to hear it.
I’m convinced that if I ignore it for long enough, it will go away.
Probably. So I continue to point out boats on the sea, pick up pebbles with interesting shapes and tell Connor every interesting factoid I have about beaches and sea life.
Unfortunately, it’s only now that I realise I don’t actually know that much about the sea, so my attempts at a diversion are short-lived.
Connor nods towards a bench facing the sea. “Shall we stop here for a bit?” Before I have chance to answer, Connor threads his fingers through mine and leads me so we’re sitting next to each other.
I bounce my knees, out of nervousness, and Connor puts his free hand on my leg to calm me down. All the contact does, however, is make my heart flutter.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” I sound much more confident than I feel.
“I want to talk about us.”
I knew it. He wants to stop being friends, he was just too nice to say so earlier.
“I really like you, Tilly,” he says, looking me square in the eyes. His face is soft, in what I can only assume is a sympathetic, pitying expression.
Here it comes. The ‘but’.
But he doesn’t say it. He just stares at me like that’s the whole sentence.
“But?” I prompt.
“But what?” he asks, confused.
“I really like you, Tilly… but I want you to move out? But I don’t want to be around you? But it was a mistake to come here? What’s the ‘but’?”
“There isn’t one.”
“I don’t understand.” What’s the punchline? I fiddle with my necklace to give my hands something to do, and my knees start to bob again with nervous energy.
“There isn’t always a ‘but’, Til.”
There isn’t? My experience begs to differ.
The hand on my knee starts to slowly rub up and down my thigh, so I’m now confused and aroused. Thankfully, his big hands move to my neck, one sliding into my hair and one moving up to cradle my face, his thumb stroking my cheek.
“I really like you. A lot. Truth be told, I’ve always liked you, but I’ve only let myself show it over the last few weeks.
You have no idea how good it feels to finally be able to look after you, hold you, be the one who makes you smile…
I’ve been trying to do it all as your friend, to give you space to heal, and I can keep being your friend if that’s what you want.
But I would love to be more than that to you because you’re already more than that to me. You have been for years.”
I’m speechless. This is not what I was expecting at all, and I’m completely unprepared for it. Regardless, I find my hands moving to rest on his forearms, his hands still holding onto me firmly.
“I know things are up in the air for you right now and you’re probably not in the right headspace to think about this, but I couldn’t wait any longer to tell you how I feel.
I’ve waited long enough, and I nearly lost you to that prick again because of it.
I won’t risk you moving on to someone else without you knowing how deeply I am in love with you. ”
Connor’s eyes never leave mine for the duration of his speech.
I focus on his irises as I breathe, trying not to pass out.
I study every fleck of black and each shade of brown so intently, I’m sure I could draw them perfectly from memory.
I try to speak but can’t form a complete thought.
The look on Connor’s face morphs from adoration to embarrassment and dejection.
“I don’t expect you to say you love me just because I did, I just wanted you to know. And if you don’t feel that way about me at all, I still want to be friends. I don’t want to lose you from my life. I’ll take you in whatever form I can have you.”
His fingers curl against my scalp, and he eventually looks down, avoiding my eyes. He thinks I’m going to reject him. My heart breaks for him, and I would do anything to bring back that hopeful, loving look he was giving me just moments ago.
“I really like you too.” Connor jerks his head up to look at me, tears lining his eyes.
And there’s that look I was hoping would return.
“And although I’m not in the right place to be able to say it yet, I don’t think it will take long for me to fall in love with you.
You’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met, and I want to face everything that comes next with you holding my hand. ”
He presses his forehead against mine. “You’ll give us a try?”
His whisper sends chills down my spine.
“I’ll make you happy, I promise. I’d do anything for you, Tilly.”
“I know. I trust you.”
The side of Connor’s mouth pulls up in a relieved smile, and my heart races faster than ever at being the cause of it.
Connor’s eyes are fixed on mine. They flick down to my lips, which are slightly parted as I try to get my breathing under control.
Before I have the chance, Connor’s mouth is on mine in a soft but burning kiss.
I feel his love and desire in every movement of his lips, simultaneously making my head spin and my pants wet.
Connor starts to pull away, but I’m not ready for the kiss to end.
Just as his lips separate from mine, I fist his shirt and pull him closer, slamming our mouths together again.
At first, Connor stills in surprise, but he soon relaxes into it when I run my tongue along the seam of his mouth.
He groans and parts his lips, letting our tongues meet.
The kiss only lasts seconds, but it was easily the best kiss of my life.
There have been good kisses with Rhys, kisses that cheered me up, kisses that got me in the mood, but none that made me feel so wanted and cherished.
This kiss doesn’t feel like a performance or pressure. It feels like home.
Both slightly breathless, and more than a little flushed, Connor and I sit looking at each other in a post-kiss daze.
A chilly sea breeze creeps over the beach, and Connor lifts his arm for me to snuggle into, which I do as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I lay my head on his chest as his fingers trace lazy shapes on my arm.
“Does this mean I can finally call you mine?” Connor asks me quietly.
I smile. This man might just be the sweetest human on the planet. “Only if I can call you mine?” I answer coyly.
“Baby, I’ve always been yours.”