Chapter 32
MEGAN
‘I’ve been thinking about the house,’ I tell Nico as we wait by the sand for both my mum to reappear and the fireworks display to begin.
‘I like the idea of coming out here more often to write. I’m going to try writing a kid’s book again.
Maybe start a new one or work on the one I wrote before. Either way, I’m going to do it.’
‘That’s great, Megan,’ he says warmly.
‘I think Dad would like that.’
‘I think so, too.’ He checks that no one familiar is in our immediate vicinity and then takes my hand in his, interlocking our fingers. ‘Is that the only reason you’ll come back? To write a book?’
‘There may be another reason,’ I admit.
‘Yes?’
‘Yeah. The wine here is really good.’
He laughs, shaking his head.
‘And I have to defend my raft champion title,’ I add loftily.
‘Bien s?r,’ he says, his eyes twinkling at me.
‘And I suppose it might be nice to see you again.’
‘Nice?’ he repeats, unimpressed. ‘That’s it. It might be nice.’
‘More than nice. It would be very nice.’
‘Yes, I can tell you are a writer. So good with words.’
‘It would be great,’ I correct, as he glances around us once more before wrapping one hand around my waist, drawing me closer to him, flutters exploding in my stomach, my brain scrabbling to make sense, as I add on quietly, ‘Wonderful. Amazing. Perfect.’
‘Better,’ he murmurs, using his other hand to tilt my chin up towards him, his nose nudging against mine before he kisses me.
Music blares out from speakers somewhere and the crowd cheers, and although I pause for a moment at the interruption, smiling against his mouth, I don’t pull back from his hold, wanting to be in this bubble with him a little while longer.
He kisses me again, his lips brushing against mine gently as my hands press flat against his chest.
I want to give this a chance.
That’s what I’m thinking as I feel the thud of his heartbeat beneath my fingers.
Whatever this is between me and Nico, I don’t want to walk away from it.
It could be a silly fantasy that the two of us are determined to see out, hoping to live that dream of finding the one that got away and rekindling what was lost, life pulling us back together against all odds.
It’s been a whirlwind and it’s come about during a strange time when emotions are bound to run high, a light romantic escape when facing up to the unfairness of life and the pain of loss.
When reality comes creeping back in, we might not be the people we think we are to one another.
This might not work out. But I want to jump into it anyway.
Why not?
When the fireworks begin, lighting the sky with sparkling colour, we reluctantly pull apart.
Mum will be looking for us and although she probably has a sense of what’s going on, I’d rather she didn’t see me all over him.
Also, I cannot stress this enough, no matter how much I fancy Nico, no matter how absurdly sexy he is, I refuse to kiss anyone beneath a fireworks display.
Whenever I see that in a movie, it makes me instinctively say, ‘Oh, come on’, because there’s quite literally nothing more annoying.
I don’t know why, but that’s how it is and I will not betray my own principles on this matter, even for a guy with a sultry French accent and a body like Nico’s.
‘Where’s Mum?’ I ask, after double-checking the crowd sitting on the beach.
Nico cranes his neck to look for her over shoulders and through the gaps of others standing like we are at the edge. ‘I can’t see her.’
‘She needs to be here,’ I say, frowning as I search the sea of heads. ‘We’re meant to watch it together, right?’
‘He just said you both had to be here,’ Nico clarifies. ‘As long as she’s here somewhere, it’s okay.’
‘Yeah, but I want to watch it together,’ I admit, looking up to admire the spectacular display that seems even better than I remember it, fireworks of every form filling the sky, their colours reflected in the sea below, all to an upbeat playlist that makes you smile up in wonder no matter how hard you fight it.
‘Let’s find her. She might be looking for us,’ he says, reaching for my hand and taking it before navigating us through the crowd to go towards the back, looking out for my mum as we weave through people happy to move out the way.
As we get further from the beach, the gaps get bigger and it’s easier to get a good view of everyone gathered. I hear Nico go, ‘Ah!’ and then he spins round to smile at me. ‘I see her. She’s with my aunt and—’ he hesitates as he turns back to look ‘—and also my uncle!’
‘Mathieu is here?’ I say, surprised. ‘You didn’t tell me he was coming.’
‘I didn’t know,’ he says, brightening. ‘This is great.’
As he leads me towards them, I notice that the three of them are huddled together at the back and they’re deep in conversation, almost oblivious to the remarkable fireworks display happening right over their heads.
As glittering golden sparkles erupt overhead, bathing their faces in a light glow, I realise it’s not just a deep conversation but a heated one.
Francoise’s expression is twisted with anger as she talks to Mathieu, who appears unaffected by her obvious rage.
Mum, in the middle of the two of them, seems to be trying to diffuse the argument, her hands up as she interjects calmly before being swiftly ignored.
I glance up at Nico in concern and find his initial excitement at seeing his uncle has vanished.
He’s crestfallen, approaching the three of them with worried apprehension.
They don’t notice us coming. We’re in earshot of them now.
Mathieu is saying something in French to Francoise, too quick for me to understand, but the exasperation and animosity from his tone is easy to translate.
Francoise begins to speak over him until Mum cuts in once again to say, ‘Look, please, tell him what you like and how you like, but Mathieu, all she is asking is that you wait until we’re gone.
I told her that I’d like Megan to hear it from me and if you tell Nico now—’
‘Tell me what?’ Nico says.
The three of them snap their heads up to look at us in horror.
Mum closes her eyes for a moment. I feel nervous watching them.
Like when you confront a group of people who have been talking about you behind your back and you’re dreading finding out what they have to say, but it’s impossible not to know.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask, scanning their faces as they shift in discomfort.
‘Nico,’ Mathieu croaks, flustered and sweating, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t come last night—’
‘What do you have to tell me?’ Nico asks again bluntly.
Mathieu looks to Francoise for help, but she looks defeated, head bowed, expression sullen. I return my attention to Mum, who is watching me now. Something about the way she’s looking at me makes me think she wants me to push for an answer.
‘Mum, what did you want me to hear from you?’
She smiles weakly at me, apprehensive but ready. It’s all there in her face.
‘It should be me who tells you the real reason I left your father,’ she answers, before the crowd cheers at a change in the song and blue, white and red swirls of stars appear above us. ‘And why I never thought I’d come back here.’