Chapter 35 #2
Trouble is, I could also fall hard for the magic this place seems to hold over Ethan, for the version of himself he is here.
Before we’ve even finished our delicious late lunch of pineapple and spiny lobster salad, served by Esmé on the shady veranda with the killer view, I’m marvelling at the lightness of his demeanour, at the easy smile that plays on his lips.
Mustique is the polar opposite of his London lifestyle—all colour and warmth and relaxation—and I’d say it’s damn good for him.
‘Try this.’ He holds what looks like an arancino ball up to my mouth. I take a bite, and delicate flavours explode on my tongue. I moan in delight.
‘Oh my God,’ I say when I’ve swallowed. ‘What the hell is that?’
‘Squash and coconut arancini. They’re a speciality down at the Cotton House. You can try their version tonight, but Jamie loved them so much when he was little that our chef, Irving, was determined to master them.’
‘I’d say he succeeded. They’re incredible.
’ It strikes me once again that this past life Ethan has painted with the broadest brushstrokes of happy family memories is so vastly different from what I’ve observed of the Kingsleys’ lifestyle these days—the carefully drawn custody agreements, the tension between father and son.
‘You know, maybe you should bring Jamie back here if he likes it so much. Do you bring him here often?’
‘Not really.’ He removes his gaze from my face and pushes a piece of pineapple around his plate. ‘I only get a couple of weeks a year of holiday time with him, so this year we did active stuff—a week of skiing at Easter and water sports this summer.’
I nod, even though he’s not looking at me. ‘Makes sense.’ But it’s so sad. Two weeks a year and occasional weekends is nothing, even without Ethan’s particular issues. No wonder they’re disconnected.
He clears his throat. ‘Elena asked me if they could come here next Christmas. I said of course. It’s a good idea, I think. They both love it. But it’s only been a year since—since we finalised the divorce, so we’re still finding our feet, all three of us.’
‘Of course you are.’ I grab his hand on the table and brush my thumb over his knuckles. ‘And you’ll figure it out. You’re doing great.’
He smiles, but it’s forced. ‘Thank you, but that is most definitely not true.’
‘How long were you and Elena married for?’ I venture.
‘Almost fifteen years.’
‘Wow.’ Fifteen years is a heck of a long time.
I take a sip of my sparkling water. Ethan strikes me as such an isolated figure.
I can’t really imagine him living in matrimonial bliss, with a wife and a kid, even if it all ended badly.
At the same time, I can’t think of anyone I’d love to see happy more than him.
Under all that trauma and all those walls, he’s such a decent guy.
He’s a man of extreme integrity, even if he doesn’t want people to know that.
‘Yeah. Wow.’ He looks bleak, and I don’t want that. Not here. I’ve put that look on his face with this line of questioning.
‘You must have some very happy memories of this place,’ I say softly, still stroking his hand.
He looks out at the pool, at the glorious gardens framing that extraordinary view of the sea, and I swear he’s watching little ghosts running through the gardens and splashing in the shallow end of the pool. He doesn’t speak for a while.
‘The best,’ he says eventually. He turns his hand over on the tablecloth so it’s palm up and he can squeeze mine.
I smile at him. ‘Do you want to share them? I’d love to hear them.’
‘Just’—he shakes his head—‘the simple things, you know? I realise it’s a cliché that the billionaire buys an obscenely expensive house so he can sit on its beach and find himself while playing with shells, but it really is like that. Or it was, anyway.
‘Jamie loves this house so much, and the team here always treated him like their own kid. He used to follow Kelvin around with a tiny watering can when Kelv was telling the gardeners what to focus on.’ He smiles at me, eyes crinkling with all that love, all that memory, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him look quite so handsome.
‘He’d be stark naked, waddling around, peeing left right and centre.
I think he watered the plants with his pee more than he ever managed with water.
That must have been the first Christmas after we’d bought it outright. ’
I laugh. ‘Nice.’ I’ve spotted a couple of baby photos of Jamie at Ethan’s London home, and he was adorable. Huge brown eyes. Big smile. Chubby as hell—so different from the shy, subdued boy I’ve met.
He continues talking, still holding my hand.
‘He loved knots. Loved them. Not sure how many knots we learnt one year. He must have been six? I was so out of my depth, watching YouTube videos of how to tie the damn things so I could teach him. One of the guys down at Basil’s Bar took pity on me and showed him the literal ropes, thank fuck.
He still has some of the knots hanging in his bedroom at my place. ’
Silence hangs between us. ‘You’re a great dad, you know,’ I tell him. ‘It’s obvious you love him very, very much.’
‘I do, but I don’t know how to talk to him, and that’s no fucking good, is it?’
‘You will,’ I urge him. ‘You’ve taken this huge step with Philip purely so you can reconnect with your son, and that is a big act of love, my friend. It’ll pay dividends. I have faith in you.’
He raises his beautiful, solemn face to me, his grey eyes shining with emotion, and, leaning over, kisses my forehead.
‘I need you to have faith in me, because I’m not sure I have it in myself. Not when it comes to Jamie, not when it comes to whatever the fuck I’m doing with this deal. But I’m tired, and I dragged you here so I could forget about all my shortcomings for a few days.’
‘So let’s go explore then. Let’s go and enjoy ourselves.’
He brushes his lips over my forehead once more before pulling away. ‘We should head down to the beach. I’d enjoy myself far more if you were in a bikini, even if I’m not sure I’ll survive the experience.’