Chapter 50
CHAPTER FIFTY
‘What do we do now?’ said Frankie, as they walked along the beach, shoes in hand, the sand warm and soft between their toes.
Dylan stopped suddenly and bent to pick something up. It was a tiny yellow shell, perfectly formed and the most exquisite colour.
‘Hence, “Shell beach”,’ said Frankie, wryly. ‘Those things are everywhere.’
‘Small but perfectly formed,’ said Dylan thoughtfully. ‘Just like this place.’ He slipped it into his pocket. ‘Sorry, Frankie, what were you saying?’
‘I was wondering what we do now,’ she said, staring out across the sea, hues of pink, purple and blue spreading across the water in the setting sun, the breeze caressing her face as she walked, enveloping them in the scent of the ocean, fresh and clear and briny all at once.
‘In what way…?’ said Dylan.
‘In every way,’ said Frankie.
He huffed a laugh. ‘Well first, we eat. I don’t think I’ve ever been so hungry in my whole life.’
‘Fair play.’
‘And then, we go back to yours and, you know, make the most of having the place to ourselves?’
A little shiver of pleasure ran down her spine at his words, at the low tone in his voice. ‘Is that right?’
‘Yup,’ said Dylan, staring ahead down the beach, a smile playing on his lips. ‘Trust me, you are never going to want to get out of bed ever again.’
A nervous giggle escaped from Frankie’s lips before she could stop it.
Dylan pulled her to a stop, and turned to face her, his navy eyes roaming her face. ‘That is, if that’s what you want?’
Frankie looked into those eyes. They were so blue, like a deep dark pool, drawing her further and further in. She was powerless to resist. No longer wanted to. ‘Of course it’s what I want,’ she said. ‘How can you doubt it? But…’
He frowned.
‘But… what future do we have, Dylan?’ Something shuttered on his face and she panicked, adding quickly, ‘I don’t mean we have to get married or anything like that, we’re honestly not a cult here, I promise.’
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, which were still full of concern. ‘But…?’ he prompted again.
She gestured around. ‘But let’s be real about this. I live here and you live… well, wherever you want. You’re famous. You have a bloody helicopter on contract.’
‘That’s…’ he began, waving a hand as if it was nothing.
But she ploughed on. ‘You’ve had thousands of women, probably.
’ He raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
‘And I’ve never been with anyone. Never kissed anyone, in fact, until this year.
You’ve been to thousands of countries, cities, lived all over the place, seen so much, and me?
I live here, on Herm.’ She finished, her arms dropping to her sides. ‘With my mum and dad.’
Saying it all out loud, it sounded even more hopeless.
Dylan put his hands on her shoulders, looked at her intently. ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this,’ he said. ‘And the way I see it, none of it matters. What matters is this. Whatever is going on here, between us.’
‘And what is that, exactly?’ she managed, her voice barely more than a whisper.
His eyes dropped to her lips and before she could stop herself, Frankie was closing the space between them, her mouth on his. A little moan escaped from her as he wrapped his arms around her, returning it with passion, with an urgency that took the breath from her lungs.
They kissed deeply, and Frankie was just beginning to forget her own name, what day it was, everything, when Dylan pulled back. His pupils were huge and he was breathing hard, like he was trying to restrain himself. Which, of course, he likely was given they were in public.
‘Exactly,’ he said, nodding as if she’d spoken. ‘That, right there, that’s exactly what I mean. I knew it the first time I saw you, in Heron Cottage, when you were all flustered and annoyed and beautiful. I knew even then, I think.’
Frankie arched an eyebrow, trying to slow her hammering heart. Her racing pulse. This man could make her knees weak with just a look, let alone a kiss like that.
‘You couldn’t stand it here,’ she said. ‘Don’t you remember? Couldn’t get to the boat quick enough.’
He winced. ‘Was I that awful? It feels like another life, to be honest.’
Frankie shook her head. ‘It’s not. You still have that life and it’s an amazing life. How much did that helicopter cost, by the way? No, come to think of it, never mind. I don’t think I want to know, I could never repay you.’
His turn to shake his head. ‘I’d never let you, anyway.’
Frankie carried on talking, mainly so she didn’t lose her train of thought and accidentally kiss him again. Those kisses would be the end of her. And they would destroy him. She had to make him understand.
‘The band’s not over yet,’ she said. ‘You’ve made something incredible. You could still save it. Go back and talk to Johnny. He’s your best friend. Surely he can be convinced to keep going if you change some things, maybe don’t tour as much or something?’
Without a word, Dylan took her hand and led her to the top of a nearby dune, pulling her down to the sand beside him. Blondie bounded up, gave his face a lick and raced off again, tongue and ears flying in the wind. Dylan laughed, a lovely light sound that made Frankie’s heart rate drop instantly.
‘You’re sweet to suggest it. But the thing is,’ he said, looking out across the water. ‘I don’t think I want that. I don’t think I want the band to get back together.’
She studied the side of his face, his jaw set hard in the cooling breeze from the water, as if in determination.
‘Are you sure?’ she said. ‘Really, truly sure, I mean? Not just sleep deprived and famished and making rash life decisions because you’re on Shell Beach and it’s all beautiful and whatnot?’ He turned his face to hers. ‘What? We’ve all done it,’ she continued, with a cautious smile.
‘I am so sure, Frankie. I don’t think I want that life anymore.’
She swallowed, heart speeding again. ‘I love it when you say my name.’
‘I love saying it,’ he said.
‘What do you want, then, Dylan Wright?’ she said, looking deep into his eyes, letting herself sink into them, hardly daring to believe…
‘I want you,’ he said, simply. Then he turned, eyes sweeping across the beach. ‘I want this place.’
She exhaled slowly. ‘So it’s all about the island?’
He shook his head. ‘Not all about the island, no–’
But she cut him off, heart flip flopping in her chest. ‘It’s okay if it is. You wouldn’t be the first to fall in love with Herm. But you can’t simply come and live here, I’m afraid. They wouldn’t let you. You have to have a job or,’ she hesitated, ‘a family here.’
His eyes sparkled as he turned back to her. ‘Well firstly, this is definitely not only about Herm.’
‘It’s not?’ Was she still breathing? It was hard to tell.
‘No. Surely you know that? My heart is full of you, remember?’
She gave a little gasp, which she attempted to cover with a cough. ‘That song. It was…?’
‘It was about you, yes. I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner. When I saw you with Jake, I thought I’d made a terrible mistake, that’s why I made out that it wasn’t finished and all that. But yes, I wrote that for you. It might even win an award. My first and last, I suspect.’
‘But it’s about… me?’ she said. ‘The Dylan Wright wrote me a song?’
‘Yes,’ he said, a flush of colour on his cheeks.
‘You wrote a song about us?’
He smiled. ‘I like that word.’
‘What word?’
‘Us.’
‘Oh.’ Frankie giggled. She liked it, too.
‘But I never want to stop making music. You inspire me, Frankie,’ said Dylan, taking her hand. ‘And I’ve had a kind of idea.’
Those eyes. Dear God. Whatever he was about to say, she already knew the answer would be yes.
‘Picture this,’ he went on. ‘A creative retreat, right here on Herm. Musicians, authors, artists, they come here to find the stillness, to find the inspiration that I’ve found here.
We could find an old building, or build something if they’ll let us.
Hell, we could even just put up some yurts, build a campfire, whatever.
I know they would come; people would love it.
It would be controlled, expensive enough to keep the numbers low, nothing too intrusive.
But think of the work that could be made here, the stories we’d have to tell. People would love it.’
Frankie stared and stared, her thoughts racing. This was not what she was expecting. Not at all.
‘We could run it together, that’s what I was thinking,’ he said. ‘If you wanted.’
Still, her brain whizzed and whirred.
‘Please say something,’ said Dylan after a moment or two of silence.
‘I love it,’ she breathed. ‘I would love to do that with you…’
‘What’s wrong?’ he said, that little wrinkle on his forehead appearing instantly.
What is wrong? Get it together, Frankie.
This is incredible. ‘I think it’s amazing, and it would definitely work.
It’s… I don’t know, I guess I was kind of hoping I could, or we, we could travel.
See the world. A bit. Mum and Dad will be fine now, they’ve sort of rekindled things, I think.
And I guess I was kind of hoping we could get away. If you’ll take me with you.’
Dylan dropped his head, disappointed. Almost defeated. She could virtually see the cogs whirring in his mind.
‘Sorry,’ she went on. ‘I know that doesn’t exactly tie in with what you just said and yours sounds like an incredible idea. Perhaps,’ and this came out with a bitter laugh, ‘you stay here and I’ll go.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s me being selfish. I’m such an idiot, I’m so sorry. Of course we could get away together. That makes sense. It would be so good.’ He didn’t sound convinced.
She put a hand on his arm. ‘Not at all. It’s an amazing idea. You definitely should do the retreat thing.’ He winced at the word ‘you’ and her heart twisted. What a mess.
They both turned and stared out to sea. The tide was going out and the turquoise sea was getting further from them as they watched, the sound of the waves gently lapping at the sand a comfort to their exhausted minds. Still, the unspoken question hung between them.
Dylan cleared his throat. ‘Look, we don’t have to decide now. Right? We’ve got all the time in the world. I’m booked in to the cottage for a few more days, anyway.’ He attempted a smile.
‘And then you’ll go back to your life and I’ll be heartbroken again.’
‘I can tell you now, of all the possibilities before us, that option is not happening,’ said Dylan, emphatically.
Frankie nudged him with her shoulder, relief coursing through her. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘We don’t need to decide now. Let’s get dinner and…’ Her face flushed.
‘And get this sexual tension dealt with,’ he said, smirking.
‘And talk later, is what I was going to say.’ She laughed, nudging him again.
‘Oh yes. That, too,’ said Dylan, and the way he was smiling at her made her stomach fizz.