Chapter 23
MUM LOOPS HER arm through mine and drags me over to the windows overlooking fields laid out in a tapestry of golds and greens and vibrant foliage.
Right outside the window is a lush kitchen garden.
Dad sweet-talked himself and Uncle Max into a tour of not just the main garden, but the field to the left that looked wild to me but was full of things I’ve never heard of.
Fenugreek? Phacelia? Part of me thought the guy was pulling Dad’s leg as he rattled off the herbs and vegetables they grow at this farm-to-table restaurant.
Beyond that, past the ponds, are fields of livestock. Cows, goats, sheep. I stare at the sweet black-faced sheep and consider running out there to join them, to try to get away from the whirling Adam-centred thoughts in my head.
Mum taps on the glass. ‘Look Sabrina, that’s where Clementine met Alfred and told him he looked like he’d done battle with a pack of wolves.’
She points at a brown stone barn, with pot plants in the open windows. Wooden tables and benches are scattered around it and, while Mum was desperate to eat out there, the looming grey clouds have forced us inside the restaurant.
‘And then Alfred said, “Of course I bloody do. I’m married to Francine,”’ Aunt Carol says, joining us at the window with Hugh Grant and his floppy hair stretched tight over her chest. ‘And he grabbed Clementine and danced her around the barn.’
‘I need some photos outside,’ Natalia says. ‘Before it rains.’
Aunt Carol’s shoulders stiffen.
‘Tommy,’ Natalia says and it’s such a clear command that I can imagine her snapping her fingers along with it.
Mum and Aunt Carol share a look.
‘You don’t like her,’ I whisper.
Aunt Carol grimaces. ‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You didn’t have to. That look between the two of you said it all.’
‘It’s not that Aunt Carol doesn’t like her,’ Mum says. ‘She just thinks Tommy can do better. You know,’ she adds, a smile spreading across her face. ‘Belinda Knowles has a daughter around Tommy’s age. She’s lovely. She used to be a Girl Guide.’
‘So that automatically makes her a lovely girl? Mum, no offence, but you’re terrible at matchmaking.’
‘Nonsense. What about Gabi and Reese?’
‘You didn’t have anything to do with them getting together.’
‘When Gabi had doubts about settling down with Reese, I helped her see that they were perfect for each other. That’s as good as matchmaking.’
Mum’s rewriting history. Like, a complete, total rewrite of what actually happened.
‘And I’ve helped you and Adam.’
‘What? You have had no hand whatsoever in our, in us,’ I splutter.
Mum and Aunt Carol share another look.
‘You haven’t,’ I say.
‘He’s here, isn’t he?’ Mum pats my arm with a smug smile. ‘And let me tell you, he took a lot of convincing. He kept harping on about deadlines and needing to focus, but once I worked my magic, he was on board.’
I roll my eyes.
She flaps her hand at me. ‘Spending time with you was the main reason, of course. And his book being set here too. Plus once we got talking about my cancer, he really understood how important all of us being here was.’
She told him about her cancer. That explains so much.
Like why he keeps caving. It also explains why he continues with the boyfriend charade.
He gains nothing from it. He’s a successful author who could’ve packed his bags and jumped on a flight here at the drop of a hat and does not need to be here with my family. He chose to join us for Mum.
Damn it. Adam has a heart. And the last thing I need right now is another reason to find him attractive.
And now he’s talking to Dad, who has returned from his tour with mud-caked boots. Adam passes something to him and whatever it is brings a giant smile to Dad’s face. Seriously? Is he gunning for the fake boyfriend of the year award?
Mum taps my shoulder. ‘Who was that girl you went to school with? The one who had a crush on Tommy. She was a lovely girl.’
‘Mum,’ I groan.
‘I helped you and Gabi find your soulmates and I can help Tommy too.’
We look out the window to where Natalia now strides along the stone-paved path, the slit in her knitted midi dress showing off a tanned leg while Tommy snaps a gazillion photos of her.
‘He seems happy.’
‘He’s not,’ Mum and Aunt Carol say in unison.
I shrug. Once these two make up their mind about something, that’s it.
Reese wanders over, a grin on her face. ‘I overheard Bill on the phone just before and he mentioned a surprise.’
‘Do you think…Clementine?’ Mum grasps Aunt Carol’s hand.
These two are diehard Clementine fans. They both embroidered her face onto cushions that they cherish so dearly no one’s allowed to use them. If their houses were on fire and they could save one object, they’d both choose the cushion.
‘I told you that was her when we drove through that village on the way back from the cave,’ Aunt Carol says. ‘She’s probably staying there.’
I make a beeline for the table before I get trapped in their Clementine fervour and ask a waiter for another chardonnay.
Over in the corner, a small acoustic band is setting up and waiters appear from the kitchen with dishes of steaming hot food that they place along the length of our table.
I fill my plate with roast beef, potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, and a pool of gravy.
Plus a pile of green beans because Adam was watching from across the restaurant and, stupidly, I wanted to impress him with my vegetable intake.
Adam slides in next to me and Reese is quick to sit on his other side, beating Natalia to the spot. She slinks away to join Tommy and Aunt Carol, much to my aunt’s dismay. It almost makes me feel sorry for Natalia.
The band plays while we eat and then, once our plates are cleared away, the band switches to covering songs from the Clovedale soundtrack and Bill urges everyone up to dance. While we may not be outside where the dancing was filmed, it doesn’t mean we’ve escaped the dancing stage of our itinerary.
Not needing any encouragement, Dad spins Mum, drawing a boisterous laugh from her.
Reese pulls Amelia to her feet and they join in, followed by Gabi and Uncle Max, Tommy and Natalia, and Aunt Carol, who’s dragged Bill with her and is now receiving encouraging nods from Mum as she tries to prise information from him.
My foot taps along to the music as I watch them all.
‘Sabrina, Adam, get your butts up here,’ Reese calls out.
I glance at Adam, who is motionless beside me, his hands folded neatly in his lap. ‘Oh, we’re okay,’ I say.
His chair scrapes and before I can blink, his hand is offered, palm up, waiting. ‘May I have this dance?’ he asks with a slight bow of his head. ‘Fake boyfriends should always dance with their fake girlfriends,’ he adds in a hushed voice.
I rise slowly, my stomach churning as I follow him. When we reach the others he turns and threads his fingers through mine, placing his other hand on my waist in the barest of touches.
Adam’s a terrible dancer. He has no rhythm and if we’re not bumping into the others, he’s stepping on my feet with mumbled apologies.
‘When you asked me to dance I thought that meant you could dance,’ I say and then grimace when he steps on my foot again. I’m pretty sure that time was intentional.
‘You’re not exactly Ginger Rogers.’
I force a frown. ‘Like you even know who that is.’
‘Everyone knows who Ginger Rogers is.’
‘Untrue,’ I say.
‘Boyfriends whose girlfriends love old movies know who Ginger Rogers is.’
I stare at him. He didn’t say fake this time.
The hand that has barely touched me while we’ve danced two dances tightens on my waist as a new song starts.
The soft fabric of his shirt brushes the bare skin of my arm.
I edge my fingers along his sleeve, allowing them to linger over his bicep before they slip around the nape of his neck.
They sweep over his skin, his soft hair.
A quiet sigh escapes his lips, so faint I barely caught it.
I inhale slowly, breathing him in, savouring him. My head feels fuzzy. The hand on my waist slides around my lower back, and he pulls me closer.
With a tilt of my chin, I find his eyes.
Those ocean-coloured eyes that always cast me adrift, and my mouth runs dry.
I forget that we’re surrounded by family, and Bill.
They all disappear as I sink deeper into his gaze.
I don’t ever want to step out of his arms. Arms that are strong enough that they could scoop me up and carry me to bed before he gently slides the straps of my dress from my shoulders and—I swallow as a tingly heat spreads through every inch of my body.
I blink as though that will rid me of the idea of Adam undressing me. It doesn’t. His stare drills into me, his brow furrowed. He almost looks angry. Or annoyed. Like he’s trying to solve a puzzle and the answer is just beyond reach.
His lips part. I zero in on them. What would they feel like against mine?
Soft at first? A little teasing perhaps, before he devoured me in a kiss so deep, so rich with passion, that he wrote a whole book about it?
When I Kissed Sabrina. It’s not exactly a catchy title but I’d read it.
The Sabrina in the book would gently bite down on his lower lip, drawing a moan from him that would completely undo her.
Kiss me.
Read my mind, Adam.
Kiss me.
His hand on my lower back pulls us even closer. Our bodies are pressed together. My pulse races. I arch into him, my hand gripping the back of his neck. I can’t take my eyes off his lips.
They move, forming a word. He stops before it leaves his mouth and steps away, taking the heat of his body and his nerve-tingling touch with him. I reach for him, my fingers grazing his arms. A cold front sweeps across us in the form of Dad, who takes my hand from Adam.
‘Spare a dance for your old man?’ he asks.
I suddenly hate my dad. And then Reese, who I dance with after Dad.
Then Amelia. And finally Mum. But it is hard to hate Mum when she’s grinning from ear to ear and gushing about how this is the best holiday ever and she’s never been so happy.
The whole time I keep Adam in my sights, pulse racing as he seems to watch me too.
He dances with Aunt Carol. And Reese. And then with Amelia.
Mum and I twirl, laughing as the room spins around us until I can’t take it anymore and we slow to a stop.
‘Water,’ I gasp and extract myself from her.
She’s about to complain when Amelia prances over and begs for a dance.
Leaving them, I dash to the waiter and ask for a water and wine.
I down the water, then pick up the wine.
Adam is dancing with Natalia. My blood boils at Natalia’s flirty smile and Adam’s hand on her hip. A hand that I can still feel on my back.
He doesn’t step on her feet. It’s almost like he’s being extra careful with his movements. It would’ve been nice if he’d shown me the same courtesy.
I get a refill, not even enjoying the oaky chardonnay as I gulp it down.
Adam laughs at something Natalia says and I slam my glass down. I head for the exit and charge out the door. The wind is a slap to the cheek, ridding me at last of all delusional thoughts.
I’m such an idiot. While I had imagined him undressing me on our bed, he was probably trying to come up with a polite way to get away from me.
The door opens behind me and, not wanting to talk to anyone, I head off around the side of the restaurant, away from whichever nosy Fogerty followed me outside.