Chapter 21 #3
A cheer goes up, glasses raised, and I find myself watching Isla like I’ve never seen her before. Same woman who’s walked red carpets, stood on fancy stages accepting shiny awards – now smiling like a kid at Christmas because she’s just won a bottle of knock-off fizz in a village quiz night.
And it gets me. Right there.
As the crowd thins, Nina wraps Isla in a hug, says something that makes her laugh and flick a glance my way. Peter claps a hand on my shoulder – solid, grounded.
‘Good to see you smiling, Kit,’ he says under his breath. ‘About bloody time.’
‘Thanks,’ I mutter, ‘Although why is everyone saying I don’t smile? I fucking do.’
Nina snorts a laugh and gives me a sad shake of her head.
‘Are you ready to go?’ I whisper to Isla. The look she gives me, eyes bright, cheeks brushed with pink, says it all.
Outside, the chill hits fast. Stars sharp above us, air clean and damp with the scent of the sea.
Isla shivers. I shrug out of my jacket and drop it around her shoulders.
‘Still a gentleman,’ she teases.
‘Don’t tell anyone,’ I say. ‘People might start expecting things.’
We walk in step, hands brushing before locking fingers. It feels … easy. Dangerous, but easy. The lane is dark, the cobbles uneven, but we walk slowly, the warmth of our hands running up my arm.
‘I like your friends,’ she says. ‘Nina’s just so…’ She trails off, flushing.
‘Nina’s so…’ I prompt.
‘I don’t know, real. Alive, vibrant. And Peter’s lovely. Steady.’
‘He’s the best kind of bloke. Showed up, kept showing up. Sea Salt Bay adopted him.’ We’re turning the first bend up and away from the harbour front, the sound of the sea beginning to recede slightly.
‘They’re happy.’
‘Yeah.’ I nod. ‘Haven’t seen Nina like this before. Properly happy. She lights up when he’s around.’
‘She says she reckons he might propose. Heard any rumours from his end? Someone with a soul that kind deserves to be happy.’
‘Not heard anything direct, but I think they’ve got a great thing going, and he knows it.’
She gives a satisfied nod.
She doesn’t say anything for a while. Just walks, and I’m happy just walking at her side.
Salt Cottage comes into view too soon. She stops, fingers twisting a strand of hair.
‘Want to come in?’ she asks, turning at the gate.
God, I want to.
‘I should get back,’ I say. ‘Promised Dad I’d help with the boat tomorrow. Crack of stupid. Sunday is our rest day for the week ahead.’
She nods, lips twitching down. ‘Course. I remember.’
‘You do.’
She nods, but her forehead wrinkles with a frown. ‘You took me out on Jessie’s Dream last Sunday?’
‘Had to ask my daddy for time off to take out the girl I like.’
She giggles and the sound is almost electric as it courses through me.
‘Isla.’ I reach out for a lock of her hair, run it through my fingertips. ‘Best night I’ve had in … a long time.’
That earns a real smile. ‘Me too.’
She steps in close, fingers brushing my jaw. ‘You can kiss me goodnight. It’s allowed.’
Her laugh gets lost as I kiss her – slow at first, then deeper, hungrier. She tastes like wine and mischief, delicious and intoxicating.
‘If I don’t stop…’ I breathe, forehead against hers.
‘You could be ungentlemanly with me again…’
‘Isla,’ I groan. ‘I’m trying to be sensible. Whatever this ends up being between us, I want it to be done right.’
‘The Kit Harding I used to know felt my tits at every chance.’ She laughs, but then her smile drops. ‘You don’t want to make a mistake again?’
Running my hand around the back of my neck, I take a pause.
Breathe. Then I step forward, cupping her face in my hands.
‘Isla Quinn. Not once have I ever thought you were a mistake. Even when I missed you, even when I realised you weren’t coming back.
You were never a mistake. You were the best of my childhood, made me a man, then broke my heart, but you were never a mistake. ’
She blinks up at me. Neither of us speak.
A tear slides down her cheek, just one. A starlit path of sadness.
‘That bruise you left, Isla.’ I press the tear track, erasing it with my thumb.
She nods, gaze still fixed on mine. ‘The only time I can’t feel it is when you are here, and it makes me feel so guilty.
I should still be mourning my wife, but standing here, with you, is the only time I haven’t ached. ’
Her gaze drops. ‘I get it.’
When she looks back up at me, the heartbreak on her face cleaves me straight in two.
‘No, I don’t think you do, Isla.’ I grasp her chin, make her look at me, and then my mouth is on hers, because I no longer know the words to make this right. I’m walking a tightrope between the past and the future, wobbling in the middle, step unsteady but hanging on.
She whimpers into my mouth, tongue deft as she meets my kiss, fingers in my hair, body pressed so tight against mine it’s like she’s crawling into my clothes.
It’s not a want that overtakes me. It’s a need. Desperate and raw.
‘Open the door, Isla.’ My words are mumbled, lost in the kiss.
The cool of the front door key presses into my palm as she hands it over, mouth never leaving mine. I move us back against the door, feeling for the keyhole, while kissing the fuck out of Isla Quinn.
And nothing has ever felt more right.