Chapter 14
“A re you going to take this?”
Annie glanced at Conrad, expecting to see something in his hands, but they were empty. “Take what?”
“The picture, of course.” His laughter carried warmth and amusement. “I thought you brought the camera for a reason.”
Only now did Annie feel the heaviness of the camera strap pressing against her neck. Without a second thought, she lifted the camera and pointed it at the colourful stalls and tents dotting the hill, the river meandering at the far end. She squinted at the back of the camera, searching for a screen and the switch-on button, but couldn’t find any.
Of course.
Conrad had mentioned it was a film camera. There was no screen, and she wouldn’t see the results of her shots until the film was finished and developed.
Using her fingers to trigger touch memory, Annie traced the sturdy camera body, discovering the shutter button. Closing one eye, she peered through the viewfinder and settled on a scene, then pressed and released the button.
The satisfying click reminded Annie of her childhood—watching Grandpa meticulously setting up his shots and taking one careful photo after another. Then agonising hours waiting outside his darkroom as he developed his pictures. And even though Annie had loved watching the process and even had taken a few shots, it had been Louise who’d inherited his gift.
“It might come out better if you take the lens cap off.” Conrad’s amused voice sounded right next to her ear.
“Oh.” Annie blinked and batted her lashes, her cheeks warming as she giggled.
What a stupid rookie mistake.
Louise would never have done that. She probably would’ve studied every aperture and setting, zooming in and out, experimenting with the camera to its fullest. Or not. She might have actually been more interested in experiencing it all for herself, so she could paint it later.
“I got distracted by the view. Shall we head down there? I can’t wait to see it up close.”
Without waiting for Conrad, Annie trotted down the pebbled path leading to the stalls and art displays. The reassuring sound of his footsteps followed.
The first stall she came across fit more into the craft than the art category—crocheted flower coasters and little bottle warmers. Annie glanced without slowing down. Not her cup of tea. Then she halted and Conrad bumped into her.
“Sorry. Found something you like?” he asked.
Good question.
Would Louise find this stall interesting and precious, or boring and beyond her? Well, probably not beyond Louise, but her pretentious artist friends would have dismissed it as quaint or amateurish.
“Not exactly. I spotted something that reminded me of my Grandma Ann. She used to crochet while she thought things through. The house was full of little doilies.”
Annie moved on, glancing from side to side as she passed stalls showcasing handmade jewellery, carved wooden trinkets, and delicate ornaments.
Lovely items, but not what Louise would have deemed “real” art.
A flash of colour caught Annie’s eye. She moved toward it, and soon rows of easels came into view, their canvases brimming with painted scenes.
With a fluttering heart, Annie stopped in front of the first painting, searching for words her sister would use to describe it. The scene seemed serene, joyful, sunny and holiday-like. It was the kind of image Louise’s colleagues would dismiss as pedestrian, but it triggered that ache in Annie’s stomach. The ache for a blissful, careless life. For family holidays and sand in the shoes. For sticky ice creams and reading a book under a parasol.
“It reminds me of my childhood,” Conrad said, stepping beside her. His shoulder brushed hers as his gaze fixed on the painting. “What about you? Is it any good?”
Boy. A loaded question.
As an art student, she couldn’t call it good, but as a human being, it made her connect with all the good feelings.
“Some of my colleagues would not spare it a second thought, but I admire the freedom in the brush strokes, the intensity of the ultramarines and ceruleans, and the precision of the strokes to make the foreground realistic with a fuzzy and fluid background.”
There. She did it. Judging by the contemplative look on Conrad’s face, she had used enough arty words to make it sound the way he expected.
“Right. So ... you like it?”
“Kinda.” As she said the words, a woman in a colourful frock emerged from the shadows. With round cheeks and braided long hair, she embodied a classic image of a folk artist—except for her smartwatch and the sneakers peeking out from beneath her skirts.
“Oh, this one is my favourite.” A tone as false as her nails. Her manicured fingers had no sign of paint, either. “But it’s not for sale—it’s already reserved by a wealthy gentleman” She brought a hand to her lips and whispered. “He offered two thousand pounds for it but as he is not here ... ”
Her exaggerated wink left little doubt about her intentions.
“Interesting.” Conrad’s eyes focused on the piece, his fingers brushing the edge of the canvas.
Annie grabbed his arm and tugged him away. “Thank you for the information.”
Caught off guard, Conrad let her pull him a substantial distance away before he protested.
“But you liked it, and she seemed keen to sell. I’m sure we could’ve negotiated.”
Annie shook her head. “Maybe. But I don’t think she painted it.” She glanced over her shoulder. “And I doubt the money would’ve gone to the actual artist. I don’t like sneaky sales tactics.”
And the last thing Annie wanted was for this man to spend money on something like that and then find out how much of a con this marriage really was.
“Hmm, now as I think about it, I guess you might be right.” He released his arm from Annie’s grip but then rested it on her waist, pulling her closer. She could still walk even though she struggled to breathe, the touch of his fingers making her acutely aware of her own body needs.
“Conrad, my man!”
The cheerful voice startled them, and Conrad turned to greet a man who looked as though he had spent his life in the gym.
“Dicksy! Long time no see,” Conrad said, shaking his hand.
Dicksy’s gaze flicked to Annie, and a chill ran down her spine. She instinctively stepped closer to Conrad, and his arm tightened protectively around her.
“And who’s this lovely girl you’re hiding here?” Dicksy asked, his voice dripping with false charm, his sharp gaze raking over Annie like she was a prize to be claimed.
“Louise,” Conrad said firmly. “My wife. So, back off.”
Dicksy raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright.” He turned back to Conrad. “Anyway, have you heard about Greg? Man, even I wouldn’t have gone that far ...”
Annie tuned out the rest, her attention drifting to the stalls ahead.
Conrad must have noticed a change in her behaviour as he said, “Go on, I’ll catch up with you.”
A peck on her cheek jolted her into a healthy pace. Just as well, as the conversation turned even more cryptic.
A few steps in, Annie slowed and let her eyes enjoy the crafts on display. She no longer had to filter it all through an alleged artist’s mind. A row of necklaces on leather cords drew her in. Her fingers touched a polished emerald stone shaped like a tiny bagel.
“Feel free to try it on.” A welcoming voice came out of nowhere, and a short lady with a head full of hay-coloured hair beamed at Annie. “Here, have a mirror.” She shifted a few jewellery items aside and set a small mirror in the centre, right in front of Annie. It would be rude not to try it on.
The clasp clicked with ease, and the necklace settled around her neck, neither choking her nor hanging too long. The tiny pendant reflected the light, casting a warm green glint, and Annie couldn’t stop stroking it with her fingers. It felt like it had been made for her.
“Shall I bag it?” The lady’s tone suggested the deal was already sealed—which it would have been, if circumstances were different.
With a pang of longing, Annie unclasped the necklace and placed it back on the display.
“Here you are. I thought I’d lost you in the crowd.” Conrad’s voice startled her.
How much had he seen? Had he been standing there long? Annie’s eye caught a glimpse of teardrop-shaped pendants strung together in healing chakra colours.
Perfect.
“I’ll take this one, please.” Annie pointed at the rainbow necklace, ignoring the surprised look from the seller. It would look great on Louise’s long neck and match her outfits. More importantly, it was exactly what Louise would have picked if she were here.
“Let me get it for you.” Conrad pulled out his card, but Annie blocked it with her hand.
The gesture felt genuine, far more natural than the clothes shopping—but she simply couldn’t accept it. “Not this time.” She smiled gently and offered her own card to the contactless reader.
The seller handed Annie a small velvet bag. “Enjoy, and come back anytime for anything else that might catch your eye.”
Annie blushed and glanced at Conrad’s face. Did he notice? The hint? Did he see through her masquerade?
Her shoulders relaxed when she realised, he wasn’t even looking at the stall anymore.
“Shall we?” She nudged him and chuckled, watching his head jolt back as if he’d just woken from a deep sleep.
“Absolutely.” Conrad slid his arm around her waist like it was the most natural thing to do—and strangely, it felt like it. “We have more of little Avinguda Diagonal to see.”
“Little what?” Her stride matched his as they strolled between stalls filled with more of the same kinds of crafts she’d already seen.
“Avinguda Diagonal. You know, Barcelona? The famous art street.”
“Oh. I’ve never been.” Not there, not anywhere she’d always dreamed of. Liam had always picked their travel destinations based on whatever his gambling instincts told him to do.
“Oh, you’d love it there. It’s not just the street—it’s the buildings. Even I couldn’t walk by without gawking.”
“Sound like it was lovely.” She couldn’t hide the misery in her voice. Travelling had been one of her greatest dreams.
Conrad must have read her mind. “Well, let’s put it on our bucket list.”
“A bucket list?”
“You know, a list of things people want to accomplish in their lives.” Conrad pulled Annie closer as they squeezed through a narrow passage, the intimacy messing with her train of thought.
“Yes, but ... ”
Should she tell him they wouldn’t be together long enough? Or that no one had ever wanted to make a list with her before?
“But what? You want to go somewhere else?”
“No. Yes. I mean ... ”
Oh boy, get a grip, woman.
Conrad directed Annie toward the path leading down by the river. “Well, where do you want to go?”
Good question.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Nowhere right now—not with a baby on the way and no money to speak of. But ...“There are so many places I always wanted to visit.”
“Great. Pick the first one that comes to mind.”
“Ice Hotel.” The words flew out before Annie even formed the image in her mind. “And the northern lights.”
Conrad laughed. “I hear it’s beautiful in winter. Shall we go this Christmas?”
What?
Annie halted while Conrad continued ahead. His hand slipped off her waist, creating a void. Christmas with him? Scary? Wonderful? All of it?
“Did I say something stupid?”
She shook her head. “No, no. It’s just ... Family.”
“I didn’t know you celebrated with your parents.”
She swallowed, unsure whether she should confirm or deny it. But she didn’t have to. Conrad pulled her into a tight embrace, his breath brushing against her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “No rush. Let’s put it on our bucket list, and we’ll find the right time and date for it. Together.”
Annie nodded as a gigantic ball of something rose in her throat. None of her former boyfriends had ever wanted to do something together . With her. For her. It had always been about them and their dreams—not hers. Not once had any of them asked where Annie wanted to go.
Not until now.
***
?
W ith Louise, a few steps behind him, her backpack on his shoulder, the camera slung around his neck, and a chicken wrap in his left hand, Conrad waved with his only free hand. “Wait!”
A man untying a rope stood up and turned toward Conrad, who approached with long, purposeful strides, raising dust wherever his feet struck the ground. The sound of Louise’s diminishing footsteps didn’t slow his pace. As long as he stopped the boat from departing, it would buy her time.
The man, sporting a bushy beard and eyebrows, nodded and pushed his hat farther onto his forehead. Conrad reached the bank, stopping beside the moored narrow boat, and fished out two stiff tickets he had bought earlier at the information centre. He handed them to the bearded man.
With a screech, the man pulled the red-painted metal platform—already tucked away—to cover the gap between the boat and the canal bank, stomping on it to secure it in place. It clanged, but didn’t budge. “Off you go.” The man stepped aside as he stroked his beard.
Conrad glanced back toward the path they had just come down, shielding his eyes with his palm as he scanned for Louise. She was nowhere to be seen. Where had she gone? His forehead creased as his gaze searched past a family of four with a buggy taking up the entire width of the path.
“Are we boarding or what?” Her voice came from right beside him, making Conrad wobble.
“You alright, mate?” The boatman looked at Conrad with suspicion and sniffed.
“Fine, thank you.” Conrad straightened up and gestured for Louise to board the boat. “Let’s go to the front. I saw a bench there.”
Louise’s hair bobbed up and down in silent agreement as she disappeared inside the boat.
“I don’t need no trouble, mate.” The bearded man pointed at the navy blue boat with a stern expression.
Like Conrad was some kind of drunk knucklehead. He gritted his teeth but kept his tone calm. “Yeah, sure, no trouble.” Ducking, he entered the narrow doorway that led into the boat’s interior, where only a few cushioned seats were occupied. Low season.
He caught sight of Louise’s silhouette disappearing through an open door toward the front of the cabin. Squeezing through the narrow aisle, his shoes stuck slightly to something on the linoleum floor. The backpack bobbed from one headrest to another—unreasonably heavy despite its small size. Conrad pondered peeking inside but thought better of it.
A breeze from the open hatch mixed with oil fumes and bird droppings greeted him as he exited onto the boat’s deck. He inhaled deeply and smiled. Life on the water—that was something else. He could totally do this.
“Here.” His wife patted the space on the bench beside her. Conrad flopped onto it, the old wood creaking under his weight. Still holding the chicken wrap, he attempted to set the backpack on the adjacent seat.
“Let me.” Louise plucked the wrap from his hand. “Strap it there.” She pointed at the metal railing. It made sense—the bag wouldn’t slide into the murky water or the wet bottom of the boat.
Unburdened, Conrad retrieved his sandwich from her hand. His stomach growled as he peeled back the foil and took a bite of the juicy, spicy chicken. “Have you—” He glanced at Louise’s sandwich, already half-eaten. “Ah, I see you’ve tried it. How is it?”
His wife took another bite and murmured with appreciation. A kindred spirit.
The boat heaved, moving under their feet. A light breeze intensified, ruffling Conrad’s hair, flapping the sides of his light jacket, and dislodging strands of lettuce from his wrap.
He used a finger to push them back into place and took another hearty bite, the spicy sauce igniting his taste buds and squeezing tears from his eyes.
“You’ve got mayo on your cheek and your nose.” Louise tilted her head, watching him with a grin.
“Uh-huh.” It was all he could manage without spitting food onto her dazzling white T-shirt.
After rummaging in her backpack, Louise leaned closer and extended her hand, armoured with a tissue. Conrad stopped chewing. Her delicate, warm fingers brushed his cheek and nose. Her intoxicating scent enveloped him, her mouth inches from his, inviting.
The thought of kissing her flashed in his mind. He swallowed hard—and choked when the bite got stuck.
A hearty pat on his back cleared all the romantic thoughts. A water bottle appeared in front of him, and he took a sip between coughs.
“You okay?”
He nodded, still unable to speak.
The boat wobbled as it turned, gliding under a bridge, splashes of water sprinkling the deck. Wrapping his leftover sandwich in the foil, he slid it into his pocket and moved to stand near the railing.
Louise joined him, their arms brushing as she stood close. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat as if to speak, but no words came.
Her knitted brows suggested she was lost in thought—and whatever she was thinking about didn’t seem pleasant.
Now was the perfect moment.
Conrad took a step backwards, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small velvet pouch. His fingers closed around the tiny, emerald-coloured doughnut pendant as his shoulders tensed. Crossing his fingers for luck, he lifted the necklace and clasped it around her neck.
“What?” Her wide-open eyes were unreadable. Was it a shock? Delight? Horror? Had he misread her?
“Um. I thought you liked it, so I got it for you.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
Damn it. He should’ve asked her. She’d told him more than once not to buy her anything, but he hadn’t listened, had he?
Stubborn idiot.
“Forget it. We can return it.”
“No, I love it.” She touched the pendant, and a sob escaped her lips.
Conrad’s heart lurched toward her, but he’d never been good with tears—never known how to make them stop. Awkwardly, he touched her arms, and she fell forward into his embrace. With her head buried in his chest, her sobbing intensified.
He pulled her tighter, stroking her hair as the boat rocked gently on the water. He didn’t know what had caused this sudden downpour of emotions, but he was damn sure he’d figure it out—and do whatever it took to make sure it never happened again.
***
?
A nnie sat on the old , weathered sofa bench, watching the sunset as it cast the garden in shades of orange and purple. She inhaled the aroma of the night-scented stock planted next to the patio. The fragrance made her feel light-headed and a little reckless.
They had returned half an hour earlier after a lazy trip on the canal followed by dinner at a cosy local pub. Annie touched the round pendant hanging from her neck and stroked it with her fingers. It no longer brought her to tears. Instead, it reminded her of something no other man had ever done for her—notice what she wanted and surprise her with it.
She chuckled softly to herself. Who would have thought that this cocky showman of a man, the one she’d first met at the wedding, would tick most of the boxes on her perfect-man list? She sighed, the smile fading from her lips. If only the circumstances were different. If only.
And she still had to tell him.
Annie had been so close to saying everything earlier, but when Conrad had hung that necklace around her neck, the wave of emotion it had stirred in her had shaken her resolve. She would tell him, but not tonight. Tomorrow. She would tell him tomorrow.
The crickets chirped their evening melody as Conrad stepped out of the house, carrying two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. The sweet, rich aroma wafted toward her, mingling with the fragrant scent of the night.
After handing Annie a mug, he wrapped her in a soft blanket before settling next to her, his warmth seeping through the layers of fabric.
As they sat in companionable silence, savouring the velvety taste of the hot chocolate, Annie’s phone buzzed. A text from her father lit up the screen, asking if Conrad had set a date for the cottage transfer yet.
Her stomach twisted with guilt, but she ignored it, unwilling to let the outside world intrude on this perfect fleeting moment. She tucked the phone away, her focus returning to the quiet garden.
The fading light cast long shadows across the garden, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient oak tree.
“So, what do you think we should do tomorrow?” Conrad asked, breaking the silence.
“Tomorrow?” Annie’s fingers instinctively wrapped around the pendant.
“Yeah. I have a meeting in the morning.” He waved his hand dismissively. “It won’t take long. After that, how about a gentle stroll through the countryside? We could stop for lunch at that country club I told you about?”
Annie inhaled sharply, her curiosity piqued. “The one my parents want you to invest in using money from my fund?”
“Exactly. I want you to see it for yourself.”
She nodded but frowned slightly as the memory of the waitress’s cryptic comment at The Canal Inn resurfaced.
“Conrad,” she began cautiously, “what did that waitress mean when she said I saved the inn?”
He hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. Then, with a half-smile, he said, “I suppose I was spending too much time at the inns with no family to keep me in check.”
There was a subtle shift in his tone, a shadow of something unspoken. Annie noticed, but decided not to press further. Instead, she tilted her head toward the vibrant sky.
“Look at that sunset, all those fiery oranges and reds melting into purples. It’s mesmerising.”
“I’ll grab your camera,” Conrad offered, starting to rise. “You’ll want to capture this moment.”
She shook her head, her eyes never leaving the sky. “No. Moments like this should be lived in, not watched through a camera lens.” Her voice was soft and earnest.
“Moments like this?” Conrad echoed, his voice low as he leaned closer.
Annie’s heart raced as she nodded, captivated by his sky-blue eyes. Gently, Conrad brushed her cheek with his hand, his touch warm and lingering.
“These are the only moments worth living for,” he murmured.
Their lips met in a tender, electrifying kiss that soon deepened, passion igniting between them like wildfire. Annie felt as though she was floating, the taste of the sweet hot chocolate on her tongue blending with the sensation of Conrad’s powerful arms pulling her closer.
For one fleeting moment, she let herself get lost in it. But the truth crept back in, sharp and unrelenting. She wasn’t Louise. She couldn’t keep deceiving him like this.
With a sudden urgency, she pulled away, her breath coming fast. “I can’t,” she whispered.
Conrad’s eyes softened, and he gently stroked her hair. “It’s okay. I can wait.”
***
?
W ith her heart still pounding and her cheeks hot from the burning need inside her, Annie closed the door to her bedroom before she could change her mind. Her fingers brushed her lips, recalling the kiss. Urgent, hungry—but not angry. Not like the surprise one at the wedding, or the mocking one after the ceremony. This one had been real. Deeper. Promising. Offering.
Annie sat on the edge of her bed and texted her sister.
Me: Are you asleep?
Lou: No. What’s up? Do you wanna talk?
Annie tilted her head, straining her ears to listen—a distant sound of running water and humming. A chuckle escaped her lips. He must be in the shower. She hit the call button and pressed the phone to her ear, lowering the volume instinctively with her thumb.
“What’s up, sis? Everything okay?” Louise’s voice held a sleepy warmth.
Annie hesitated, then giggled. “We kissed.”
“What?” Louise sounded wide awake now, her voice muffled slightly as she turned to someone. “Meggie also wants to know what on Earth happened.”
“I know, I know. It’s crazy.” Annie buried her face in her palm, but her smile refused to fade.
“Does he know?”
Annie shook her head before realising her sister couldn’t see her. “Not yet.”
“Tell me you’re joking.” Louise’s tone shifted—a seriousness that rarely surfaced. It should have made Annie pause, but that giddy, fluttery feeling in her chest refused to be silenced. It whispered, Jump. Live for once. And Annie wanted to live.
“It’ll be fine. He’s taking me to that country pub tomorrow. The one he’s supposed to buy with your money. So, I’ll tell him there.”
And then ... what? He’d forgive her? Promise to stay by her side no matter what?
Yeah, right. Annie had always been good at imagining grand endings, but even she knew this one was a long shot. Still, maybe he wouldn’t be that mad.
“You mean the money that doesn’t exist. The money he was promised in exchange for the cottage?”
When had Louise become such a grown-up? The light feeling in Annie’s stomach dimmed, replaced by something heavy and twisting.
“Yes, I know. But I have a plan.”
“Oh, really?” Louise’s voice dripped with scepticism. “Do tell.”
“Well ... I’ll offer him a new deal. My inheritance.” Annie’s voice carried enough to pique her sister’s curiosity.
“What inheritance?”
“Father said the cottage would unlock some money for us. I don’t know how much, but it has to be worth something, right?” Annie bit her lip, her heartbeat fluttering now for entirely different reasons than half an hour ago.
“Well ...” Louise paused, her tone softening just a fraction. “I hope you’re right, sis, and that it’s enough.”
“I hope so too.”
Annie’s ears caught the sound of a door shutting somewhere in the house. Footsteps followed, growing louder, closer.
“Bye,” she whispered and held her breath, the phone slipping from her hand onto the bedspread.
Was he coming here? Her heart raced, torn between anticipation and dread.
The footsteps stopped.
One minute passed. Then two. Silence stretched, taut as a drawn thread.
Annie stayed still, waging a battle in her mind, waiting for him to knock. Would she let him in? Should she?
The sound of retreating footsteps broke the stillness, fading into the depths of the house. A door shut somewhere far off, leaving the world quiet again.
Annie released the air trapped in her lungs, her chest aching from the strain.
It was better this way.
So why didn’t she feel relieved??