Chapter 28
ADAM’S BACK IS firmly pressed to the door, his black shirt pulled tight against his chest. The soft dapple of sunlight streaming through the windows highlights the steely expression on his face.
‘We kissed,’ he says.
I step around him. ‘That wasn’t a kiss.’
‘Our lips touched. That equals a kiss.’ He shakes his head when I snake an arm behind him to reach for the handle.
‘If you think that’s a kiss, it’s no wonder you’re single.’
‘You’re single too. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?’
‘Which after that display is kinda pointless. Did you hear Gabi? She said it was a meh kiss. No wonder she keeps going on about our lack of physical affection. That was a pathetic attempt at a kiss.’ I try once more to reach for the handle, my fingers flexing as the tips graze the cool metal.
Just a little further. Straining, I lean into him, my body flush against his as I grapple for that handle.
He breathes in deeply. His lips are dangerously close to my cheek. I swallow hard and try to slow the racing beats of my heart. ‘Careful, Sabrina, you’re beginning to sound like you want a real kiss.’
I step away on trembling legs, feeling uncomfortably warm. ‘No chance.’ I grip the back of the closest pew. Drawing a breath, I try to centre myself with the earthy, almost woody scent of the chapel. A hint of something sweet blends into it, tickling my nose.
He quirks a brow, clearly not convinced.
‘Pigs will fly before I want a real kiss from you.’
‘And just think, it was only yesterday that you saw a pig fly.’ His lips curl into a hesitant smile as he takes a step towards me. ‘I think you do want to kiss me.’
What I want is to wipe that smug smile off his face.
‘Admit it,’ he says and moves closer. ‘You want to kiss me.’
I shake my head despite the wave of desire sweeping over me. My eyes flick to his lips, hating the way I want to bite down on them. ‘That pig doesn’t count,’ I say. ‘Everyone knows they can only fly once.’
His brow furrows. ‘That doesn’t make any sense. For one, pigs don’t fly. And two, if they could, why would they only fly once?’
‘I’m not going to explain flying pigs.’
‘Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?’
I tip my head back, releasing a frustrated groan. ‘You’re so infuriating.’
‘I’m infuriating? You’re the one claiming the absurd.’ He runs his hand over his head, tugging at his hair. ‘Why do you do this to me?’
‘Do what?’ I ask. I’m on the verge of yanking on my own hair. Or his. Anything to break this tension.
‘Make me argue about nonsensical things.’
I throw my arms up in the air. ‘I’m not doing anything. You’re the one who made me bring up flying pigs.’
‘I made you?’ he splutters. ‘I made you resort to this ridiculous conversation?’
‘You think it’s ridiculous, but you’re still taking part in it. A conversation is a two-way thing.’ Satisfied with my retort, I lean against the pew with a smirk.
He glares at me. I stare back, refusing to admit defeat.
He opens his mouth and then promptly shuts it as our eyes remain fixed on each other.
His chest rises and falls and he clenches his fists.
He mutters something. It sounds like fuck and then he closes the distance between us, pulling me to his chest, his lips crushing against mine.
My surprise lasts a nanosecond before I’m clutching at his hair and opening my mouth to meet his tongue with my own.
Our first kiss flooded me with disappointment. This kiss? This kiss renders me speechless.
He moans into my mouth as I arch into him, pressing myself against him.
Fire races down my spine, heating me from deep within.
His hands run down my back, over the curve of my hips, they clutch at my dress.
His lips move away and I whimper, desperate to have them back on mine.
They’re on my neck, hot kisses on my skin, his fingers releasing my dress and moving to cradle my head.
Gasping at the gentle graze of his teeth, I feel desire pulsing through me, threading through my stomach and settling deep in my groin.
I grab his shoulders, steadying myself as his lips return to mine and he kisses me like a starving man at a feast.
‘Sabrina! Adam!’ Mum’s voice sounds from outside the chapel.
We move apart, our sharp breaths echoing against the walls.
‘Sabrina! Adam!’ Mum calls again and the door opens, a stream of bright sunlight entering with her.
‘Ah there you are. Bill wants to show us the rose garden where Clementine sat when she and Sister Helene had their heart-to-heart about Charles. We need to drive there, so come and get on the bus. Are you all right, Adam? You look flushed. You’re not coming down with something, are you? ’
He smooths down his hair with a brisk nod. ‘I’m fine, Dianne. Let’s go and see this famous rose garden.’ He brushes past me without so much as a glance and I watch him leave with Mum.
I touch my tingling lips. What just happened?
We’re transported to what feels like another world.
Glimpses of the pitched roof of the manor appear through a line of beech trees as Bill leads us down the gravel path that opens onto a terraced lawn bordered by clipped hedges.
Pink roses climb the honey-coloured walls of the manor with an old cedar looming nearby.
The manor, Bill points out, was used as the exterior for the Hamesley estate.
Mum and Aunt Carol are beside themselves, insisting Tommy snap what must be a hundred photos of them striking different poses.
Natalia hovers nearby, clearly itching for her own photoshoot.
Uncle Max mutters something about green woodpeckers and skylarks before disappearing, binoculars in hand and Gabi, Reese and the girls in tow. Dad heads straight for the rose garden.
I stand there, still stunned. A crunching of pebbles reminds me I’m not alone. I can feel Adam’s presence with every cell in my body. My cheeks flush at the memory of his lips on mine. At the desperate need pulsing between us as we kissed.
‘Roses,’ I blurt out and scurry after Dad before Adam can make me face what happened between us.
I feign interest in the rose garden, exclaiming over their colours while I try not to touch my lips and draw attention to them. It feels like I have a giant sign attached to me that reads: We just kissed and it’s a big deal because this whole thing is fake.
I have no idea where Adam is and I need it to stay that way until I can sort through the million emotions coursing through me.
But I don’t even know where to start. I pick at one thread and it stretches on for so long that it exhausts me.
Then I go back to start another one and the same thing happens.
Soon I’m left with a mess of threads that are so tangled it’ll take a miracle to straighten them up.
Everything is still a jumble when we file back onto the bus and, as I pass Amelia, I briefly consider taking the spot beside her but that just screams to the family that something is up because a Fogerty does not change a seating position unless a catastrophe has struck.
I slide into my seat and push myself hard against the window. Adam is the last one on and he sits beside me without a word or a glance or a puff of breath in my direction.
The bus lurches forward and I brace an arm against Tommy’s seat in front of me, clinging to it so I don’t accidentally touch Adam as we round the bends on the drive back. Adam remains as still as a statue, fists clenched and resting on his thighs, eyes forward, jaw set.
Maybe I should sleep in the manor tonight.
I can say Adam needs space to write and I’m too much of a distraction.
My stomach dips at the thought of not spending the night in our cottage.
With him. Not with him, but with him. Co-existing in a space that has become a home away from home.
And a space that could very well become extremely awkward after today’s events.
Is he going to bring up the kiss? He brought up our horrendous peck and that led to…
well, that led to fire. What if the next conversation leads to a volcanic eruption that destroys everything?
Or maybe this time he’ll stay silent and our kiss will go undiscussed, disappearing into the ether like it never happened.
My stomach dips. I’m not sure that’s what I want.