Chapter Forty-nine
Flynn thought it fortunate that the delivery rider had been running late.
He arrived as Lara was getting dressed in Flynn’s bedroom and as Flynn himself had just put his T-shirt back on.
They’d eaten the Greek meal by candlelight and retired early to bed, listening to the chimes from the tower clock and distant fireworks and rowdy choruses of Auld Lang Syne. All from the comfort of Flynn’s divan.
Lara insisted she hadn’t minded missing the party, and there had been enough fireworks in the bedroom to rival the ones that would have been lighting up the London sky by that point.
Nothing could dampen the joy, the celebration, and the hope for the future in his heart – and in hers, if he’d read the signals right.
‘Will people notice you weren’t at the party?’ he asked.
‘Yes, but not until tomorrow – well, later today – after everyone has finally surfaced. I could say I got an early night,’ she said, trailing her fingers over Flynn’s bare thigh.
‘Or you could be honest. You could say you spent a night with a handsome Harley rider who had to be very inventive given his damaged knee …’
‘I could …’ Lara’s fingers rested at the very top of Flynn’s thigh, creating a kick of desire that was almost impossible not to act on. ‘But if we’re truly being honest,’ she went on. ‘I ought to tell everyone the truth.’
On New Year’s Day, Flynn insisted on making bacon sandwiches despite having to hold on to every available surface and swearing as he fried the bacon.
Over breakfast, Lara said, ‘Do you think you’ll make it to the ball?’
‘I’m determined to. Are you looking forward to it?’
‘I ought to be. I would have been … I mean, I am, but I’m going to have to confess about the chalice the next day. After Henry and Fiona have been so kind to me, I’m dreading telling them about it.’
‘I can understand you being worried, but they don’t seem like the kind of people to turn nasty. I’m sure they’ll understand.’
‘It’s not a small thing, though. It’s huge. It’s the estate’s biggest treasure. I’m going to have to pay for it.’
‘It’ll be insured.’
‘It is, but there’s sure to be an excess. Or a clause. Or something.’
‘Don’t think about it now. Let’s enjoy the last few days of Christmas.’ He raised his eyebrows and looked at her. ‘That shirt suits you.’
‘You think?’ Lara had borrowed one of Flynn’s dress shirts to have breakfast in.
‘I do, but it would look even better …’ He reached forward and undid one of the buttons. ‘Off you.’
‘Surely you don’t have the strength to do it again?’ Lara teased, and Flynn felt his desire flare into life again. ‘An injured man?’
‘Somehow I’ll manage.’
The next few days whizzed by in a haze of sex and work for Lara, and sex and trying to rest – not very successfully – for Flynn. Gradually, word spread that he and Lara were an item, and Mrs Danvers, clearly blessed with telepathic powers, told Flynn she’d known all along.
Though still officially off sick, Flynn couldn’t stay away from work completely.
He hobbled into the office several times a day, often having to be shooed out by Carlos, but he was secretly pleased when his deputy asked for his advice on a number of things for the Spectacular and as well as regarding other maintenance issues.
The enforced rest was also a chance to spend time with Molly when she wasn’t at the café. And with Esme. They called on him at the cottage and Lara gave him lifts to their house on her way to and from shopping.
If his colleagues wondered why he was spending so much time with the girl from the café, Flynn decided to let them. He wasn’t ready to reveal everything about his private life yet.
He and Molly went for a walk one day – a shuffle in his case, though he was getting stronger – and stopped by the side of the lake to feed the ducks and swans.
‘I’m sorry I set you up on New Year’s Eve,’ she said.
‘It’s OK.’
‘That’s not what Mum said.’
‘We were both a bit shocked and confused.’
‘I only wanted you and Mum to have a chance to spend some time together and work things out.’
‘We will do. We have the rest of our lives for that, with you and Esme.’ He rested his hand on Molly’s. ‘As friends.’
‘I – I’m s-sorry. I’d hoped – I’d hoped you and Mum would get together.’ Molly had tears in her eyes and Flynn felt a stab of guilt. But he knew he had to stand firm for everyone’s sakes.
‘I know that. I understand why, but we’re not the right people for each other and your mum agrees. I don’t think the trust would ever be there between us and no relationship can ever work without trust on both sides.’
Molly nodded. ‘I realise that. Mum’s admitted that, if she’d wanted to, she could have tried harder to find you.’
‘She’s admitted that to me too and, while we won’t be partners, we do want to be friends, for all our sakes – and especially yours. I love you and Esme with a love I never thought I’d experience. I can’t explain it. It’s scary but wonderful too.’
‘I do understand. I feel that way about Esme.’
‘And I am your dad and Esme’s grandad, but I’m also still me.
You told me that you hadn’t met the right person yet, that Esme’s dad wasn’t the one, and so you preferred to be on your own for now.
I know you will meet someone special who’ll worship you and adore Esme …
and, you see, I think I already have. In fact, I know I have. ’
‘You mean Lara?’
‘Yes. I do. She’s the one. I want to spend the rest of my life with her and I’m hoping she feels the same too.’
‘Have you told her that yet?’
‘I’ve told her I want to be with her and that’s enough for now. We’ve both had a lot to deal with lately. But I won’t wait too long before I do say more. Shall we keep that our secret for now? You’ll be the first to know.’
She squeaked in delight at being the guardian of such a confidence. ‘I won’t say, but can Esme be a bridesmaid?’
Flynn laughed. He hadn’t actually thought about a wedding, only a commitment, albeit a very serious one. How quickly Molly made the leap, with all the romantic idealism of youth.
He shook his head in wonder. ‘You’d make a great matchmaker.’
‘I’d rather be a psychologist.’
‘You’ll be a great one. I already know that. Shall we go grab a coffee?’
‘Yes, and I’ll get them while you change Esme. I have a feeling she needs it.’
‘Thanks a lot,’ said Flynn, as Esme let out a gurgle that sounded very much like glee. ‘I suppose I need the practice.’