Chapter Thirty-Three
Eloise opened her eyes to a familiar room, and confusion reigned until she recalled why she was back in Sea View Guest House. She didn’t need to turn her head to see the man beside her. Bart was asleep, his face relaxed. He looked even more handsome, she thought.
Another thought swiftly followed—would he regret last night? In the cold light of day, would he wish he’d never taken her to bed?
By mutual unspoken agreement, they’d headed for the room she’d stayed in over Christmas. There weren’t any ghosts in this one. But Bart might feel haunted anyway.
Bart’s eyes slowly opened and he smiled, an easy, gentle smile.
She answered it with a smile of her own, grateful and relieved that he didn’t appear to have the regrets she feared.
“Sleep well?” he asked.
“Eventually.” Her reply was light and playful, and warmth crept into her cheeks.
He grinned, reaching for her hand. He knew what she was referring to. “I slept like a log,” he replied. “Eventually. Hungry?”
“I could murder a cup of tea.”
“Stay there. Let me fetch you breakfast in bed.”
“There’s no need to spoil me.”
“I want to.” He got out of bed. “You deserve to be spoilt.”
Eloise waited until he left the room before slumping back onto the pillows with a sigh of contentment.
Bart loved her, and she loved him. She wasn’t going to let worries about what might or mightn’t happen in the future mar the present. The here and now was too precious to waste.
“Bart?” she called, and she heard him pause on the stairs. “I don’t want breakfast. Or tea. I want you. Come back to bed.”
The house Bart was looking at was a typical two-up, two-down traditional cottage in the middle of a terraced row of identical quaint cottages.
It was set back off the road by a tiny front terrace no bigger than a postage stamp, surrounded by an ornate metal railing and a wrought-iron gate, with just enough room for a bench and a fantastic view of the sea.
Constructed out of honey-coloured stone and with a slate roof, the cottage seemed to grow out of the hillside behind it, and the ivy sprawling up the wall and over the tiny porch added to the illusion.
There was a For Sale sign attached to a wooden pole, and Bart recognised the name emblazoned on it: It was the same firm that was selling the guest house.
But why Eloise had insisted on dragging him down this street was a mystery, since it was nowhere near The Bumblebee.
They were supposed to be going there for brunch because there hadn’t been much in the fridge and they were both ravenous after their exertions earlier this morning. And last night!
He still couldn’t believe Eloise loved him, and he kept having to pinch himself. He was so happy he feared he might burst—but he was also hungry and wanted to get to the pub.
“What do you think?” Eloise was wrapped up warmly in a thick woollen coat, and she had a scarf around her neck and a brightly coloured knitted hat on her head.
The tip of her nose had turned pink from the cold, and Bart thought she looked adorable.
Her arm was linked through his, and she gave it a squeeze.
“It’s nice.”
“Nice! Is that all you can say?” Disappointment wiped the expectant look off her face. “I’d hoped you would like it.”
“I’d have to see inside first.” He shrugged.
“I suppose I should start looking for something to buy, but I want to see whether there’s any interest in the guest house before I do.
I don’t want to set my heart on somewhere, only for the purchase not to go ahead.
” When they’d been curled up in bed last night, cocooned in the warm darkness, satiated and languorous, she’d asked him about the house and why he’d put it on the market, and he’d explained it was time to move on, to embrace a new future, but what it would look like was unclear.
The only certainty was that Eloise would be in it.
“The cottage isn’t for you,” she said. “It’s for me.”
Bart froze. “For you? You’re thinking of buying it? You’re going to move to Honeycombe Bay?”
Her face fell. “I won’t if you don’t want me to. I just thought—” She broke off.
He felt her dismay in the set of her jaw, the tension around her eyes, and the stiffness of her posture, and he eased his arm out of hers and turned her to face him.
“I think that’s a marvellous idea,” he told her gently.
She pressed her lips together before continuing.
“It’s just, you have family here and I don’t have any at all, and I’ve not got anything else to keep me in Northampton, and I thought that if we’re going to make this work, then—eek!
” Her squeak of surprise before he stopped her rambling with a kiss made him smile.
Then he too was caught up in the moment.
Finally, he pulled away and said, “I can’t think of anything I’d like more than you coming to Honeycombe Bay to live. And thank you for taking my family into consideration.”
“Ah yes, Ross. He isn’t going to be happy about us, is he?”
That she thought there was an us filled Bart with joy. He’d never thought he’d be part of a couple again. “Ross will be fine,” he assured her. In fact, he knew Ross would be pleased for him.
“Are things moving too fast, do you think?”
“I suppose that depends on whether you believe we have time to spare,” he replied thoughtfully. “Since Penny passed, I’ve come to realise that life is fleeting. We should grab happiness with both hands and never let go. That’s what I want to do with you.”
She gave a small laugh. “On that first day, when I went for a walk up to the headland, I remember looking at these cottages and imagining what it would be like to live in one, and how nice it would be to wake up to that view every morning.” She gestured at the sea, which was gunmetal grey today, and the scudding, wind-driven clouds.
“It wasn’t for sale then, but it is now. I think that’s a sign.”
Bart thought so too. The stars were aligning and everything was falling into place.
A car pulled up to the kerb and came to a stop next to them.
When Bart saw who was behind the wheel, he said to Eloise, “Did you arrange for the estate agent to be here, or is this a coincidence?”
“A coincidence,” she said, her eyes wide. “I wonder…” Disentangling herself, she brushed self-consciously at the front of her coat. “Do I look like we’ve been kissing?”
“You look fine,” he chuckled.
“In that case—Excuse me?” she called to the estate agent who’d just emerged from his vehicle. “Are we able to view this property now?”
“Today?”
“Yes, please.”
The man sent Bart a disbelieving look. “I’ve actually got a viewing right now, Mr. Knott, so—”
“We’ll be really quick, I promise,” Eloise interrupted. “We’ll be in and out before you know it.”
“Well, I’m, er…”
“Please? I’m really, really keen. And it’ll save you another trip: two birds with one stone?”
The man made an elaborate show of checking the time on his smartwatch before saying, “Okay, but you’ll have to be quick.”
Eloise clapped her hands, and Bart stared at her in wonder. This woman was a far cry from the uptight, closed-off, testy person he’d met in December. This woman had a smile on her face, light in her eyes, and a spring in her step. And she loved him.
Feeling emotional, Bart followed Eloise and the estate agent into the house, and was pleasantly surprised.
It was larger than he’d been expecting from the exterior, with the two downstairs rooms converted into an open-plan living room, dining room, and kitchen. Double French doors led out to a small courtyard bordered by shrubs.
It was a cosy, intimate space, and he could just imagine Eloise sitting there on a summer evening, sipping a glass of wine. He could also imagine himself sitting next to her.
Upstairs, there were two compact double bedrooms and a family bathroom, which was equipped with a separate bath and shower. To Bart, it looked perfect.
Eloise was opening the cupboard under the stairs when she spotted the estate agent checking the time again, and she shut it firmly.
“I’ve seen enough,” she declared.
The man gestured toward the door. “Okay, if that’s all, then…”
“I’ll take it.”
“Excuse me?” He blinked, taken aback.
Eloise said, “I’m prepared to offer the full asking price if the vendor takes it off the market today.”
The estate agent stared at her.
“Well?” she demanded. “Don’t you have to speak to the owner?”
He seemed to shake himself. “Er, yes. Right. Of course. Give me a moment.” Stepping outside, he pulled the door closed behind him, leaving Bart and Eloise alone.
“Do you really like it?” she asked.
“I think this house is lovely, and I’m overjoyed you’ll be living in Honeycombe Bay.”
“What about you? Where will you live?” She circled the sofa, her eyes scanning the room. He could tell she was already envisaging where her own furniture would go.
He said, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll sort something out.”
“But don’t you see, I do worry. I’ll always worry. Because that’s what you do when you love someone—you worry about them. I don’t want you to worry about where you’ll be living when the guest house is sold, so if you want, you can live here. The cottage is the perfect size for two.”
“You’re asking me to move in with you?” He was incredulous.
“Got a better idea?”
Actually, he didn’t. Her idea was the best he’d heard in a very long time, and he was about to tell her so when the estate agent reappeared.
“Congratulations, you’ve just bought a house!” he said, and Eloise let out a triumphant yell.
“That’s not all,” the man continued. “I’ve just received notification that someone wants to view your guest house, Mr. Knott.”
Once again, Bart had the feeling that this was meant to be and that fate was intervening at just the right time. He couldn’t believe that this time yesterday, he had been contemplating a bleak and lonely future, yet now his future was full of life and love—and Eloise.
But he had to make certain. “Are you sure about this?” he asked. “It’s a big decision.”
She turned to face him, and her eyes locked on to his. “I’m sure—if you are.”
“Yes.” He was emphatic. “I am. There’s one problem though,” he said, trying to hide his delight.
“What?” Her instant concern touched him deeply, and he hastened to put her out of her misery as he said, “There’s no bay window. Where will we put the Christmas tree?”
“Do you think we’ll be celebrating Christmas this year?”
“I do. And every Christmas after that, because I’ll be celebrating them with you.”
And when Bart took her in his arms once more, he felt like all his Christmases had come at once.