Chapter 20
THEN
Late July
The key turned in the lock, and I pushed the door open with my shoulder, juggling the bags of groceries in my arms. They were heavier than usual, now there were two of us. That thought made me smile as I stepped inside.
‘H—’ I started to call but stopped abruptly as a familiar scent reached my nostrils. Perfume. Heavy. Floral.
My stomach tightened. I nudged the living room door open with my foot and froze.
Ryan stood by the window, his back to me as he stared at the harbour in what had become his favourite spot in the flat.
And sitting on the sofa was his mother.
She turned her head slowly at the soft creak of the door. Her lips curved into a tight smile, as her eyes narrowed.
‘Kirsty, you’re back.’
The words grated on me. She acted surprised and put out, as though I was an unwelcome visitor in my own home.
My gaze dropped to the mug in her hands. My mug. One of the pale blue ones with the painted beach huts. Part of the set I’d bought the day I paid the deposit on this flat. My one small, unnecessary extravagance when everything else had been second hand.
They were symbolic. A fresh start. Something that was finally just mine.
Her fingers curled around it as she lifted it to her lips.
I wanted to charge forwards and tear it from her grasp. Scream at her that it was mine. But I didn’t move.
‘Denise,’ I said, forcing my voice to stay calm and even. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you here.’
Ryan turned. He looked pale and haggard, silhouetted in the bright window.
‘Well,’ Denise said tightly, ‘if my son isn’t going to come home, I suppose it’s up to me to come to him.’
My grip tightened on the bags, the handles digging into my fingers.
Silence stretched uncomfortably, making my cosy living room feel cold and suffocating.
‘Let me help you with those,’ Ryan said suddenly, as he snapped into action, crossing the living room in a few easy strides.
‘I’ve got it,’ I said quietly as I lowered the bags to the floor myself, feeling betrayed that he had let his mother into our home.
My home.
His hands hovered outstretched towards me for a second, before dropping to his sides. I expected him to return to his spot in the window. Detached from everything. From me. But he stayed to my left.
My fingers twitched, eager to reach for him. To take strength from his presence. To show Denise we were together, united. But I didn’t dare. What if he pulled away? Like he had before.
‘I was surprised,’ Denise continued, her gaze flicking between us, ‘when Ryan said he was staying here.’
Ryan shifted closer to me. ‘Mum—’
‘I mean, you two proved you were incompatible last time, so…’ She let her sentence hang. The implication obvious and intentional.
Ryan reached for my hand. His fingers intertwining with mine. ‘Things are different this time.’
‘I suppose these summer romances are easy to get swept up in,’ Denise said. ‘All that sun and nostalgia must make it easy to confuse it for something more. Something real.’
‘This isn’t some passing fling,’ Ryan objected. ‘We’re serious about each other.’ He lifted my hand, turning it slightly, angling the ring I wore towards her. ‘We had a ceremony in Malta.’
Denise’s jaw dropped as she stared at my hand, shaking her head mutely. ‘You got married?’ The question sounded more like an accusation. Cold. Indignant.
Ryan turned and smiled at me. ‘It’s what we wanted.’
‘But you can’t have done. You were only gone for two weeks.’ She slammed the mug down on the glass coffee table, the loud crack making me cringe. ‘You couldn’t have organised a wedding in that time.’ Her words were adamant, but her tone was panicked.
‘It was a commitment ceremony,’ Ryan exclaimed. ‘It doesn’t require the same complexities. We didn’t need anything else. Just us.’
‘Clearly,’ Denise snapped, rising to her feet. ‘You didn’t think to involve anyone else. No family. No friends. No one who actually matters.’
Ryan’s jaw tightened as he lowered our hands back down.
‘You did it without us. Without your family. Without your father.’ Her voice cracked.
‘It wasn’t like that,’ I protested.
‘At least it’s not legally binding,’ Denise said, looking relieved. ‘That’s something.’
‘It’s binding to us,’ Ryan assured her. ‘The rest is just a formality. Something we can take care of at the registry office, now we’re home.’
‘Take care of?’ She spat the words at him. ‘A wedding isn’t something you “take care of”, like taking your car in for its MOT. It’s a wedding. Something to be celebrated in front of family and friends. Something significant and memorable.’
‘We did celebrate.’ Ryan smiled at me. ‘In our own way. In Malta.’
‘You can’t tell your father.’
Ryan’s hand tensed in mine.
‘If your father finds out he missed his only son’s wedding – that you didn’t want him there – it’ll kill him.’
I heard Ryan’s sharp inhale.
‘You’re being melodramatic,’ he said, but his words were forced and unsteady. Melodramatic or not, his mother’s declaration had shaken him.
She shook her head. ‘You know what the doctor said. Are you really going to take that chance with your father’s life?’
Two Years Ago – Mid July
I spotted them the moment they stepped into the Poole Hospital café. I pushed my chair back quickly, abandoning my cold cup of tea as I reached for the suitcase handles. I’d spent the last thirty minutes watching the entrance. Waiting. Hoping. Praying his dad’s condition hadn’t deteriorated.
I awkwardly dragged the two cases into the narrow walkway between the tables, eager for news.
‘Ryan!’ The voice cut across the café. A woman rushed towards him from the far side of the room and threw her arms around his neck.
She looked a couple of years younger than us, yet somehow her sun-bronzed skin, silky blonde hair and effortless confidence made her seem more poised and stylish than I’d ever felt, even when I hadn’t been travelling for hours.
Ryan stiffened in surprise for a second, then hugged her back.
Something tightened in my chest.
Who was she?
‘Excuse me,’ someone muttered beside me, trying to squeeze past. I jolted back into action, dragging the cases out of the way as heat crept into my cheeks.
I couldn’t stand here in the way. But I didn’t know where else to go. I wasn’t sure I should interrupt the reunion that was playing out before me.
Or perhaps I should? The question circled my brain as jealousy stirred within me. She wasn’t family, I knew that much. Ryan had said it was only him and his parents.
I moved forward slowly, stopping a few steps short of them. Not close enough to intrude, but close enough to be included.
If I was wanted.
‘How is he?’ the woman asked as she stepped back slightly. One hand remained on Ryan’s shoulder while her other reached for his mum’s, squeezing it tightly.
Ryan exhaled. ‘Stable. But they’re still keeping him in.’
She nodded, relief flickering across her face.
I moved the cases, letting someone else pass. The movement caught Ryan’s attention, and he finally looked at me.
‘Hey,’ he said, stepping towards me, letting the woman’s hand fall from his shoulder.
He stretched out his hand, and for a moment I thought he was reaching for me. But then his fingers wrapped around his suitcase handle. He tugged the case towards him and turned back to the others.
I flexed my fingers, missing his hand in mine.
‘Charlotte, this is Kirsty,’ he said, jerking his head slightly in my direction.
I prepared myself for the words that would follow – my girlfriend. But they didn’t come.
‘Hey,’ Charlotte said, with a small nod.
‘Hi,’ I replied. I glanced back at Ryan, still waiting for the remainder of his introduction.
‘We should probably get out of the way,’ he said. ‘We’re blocking the entrance.’
I blinked. That was it? He wasn’t even going to call me his girlfriend? Or, for that matter, explain who Charlotte was?
I forced my breath out. My jealousy was ridiculous. Ryan had other things on his mind than worrying about making introductions. More important things.
Charlotte and his mum turned and headed out of the café, their heads bent together, voices low.
I reached for Ryan. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, already moving past me towards the exit.
I trailed behind him, my suitcase feeling heavier and more resistant than when I’d entered.
Charlotte drove towards the stables as Ryan’s mum sat in the passenger seat, her body angled back towards him, answering his questions about the doctors, the tests, the next steps.
I sat beside him, desperate to reach out for his hand. To offer comfort. Reassurance. But his hands were clasped tightly in his lap, his shoulders rigid, his gaze locked on his mum.
I turned to the window instead, watching the hedgerows blur past, trying not to notice the space between us. Or how deliberate it felt.
Was he ashamed of me? Did he regret bringing me here?
‘We didn’t realise you were in Malta with someone,’ his mum said lightly. ‘Did you meet there?’
‘N-no. At university,’ I replied.
‘Oh.’ She didn’t even attempt to hide her surprise. ‘We knew Ryan had had girlfriends at university, of course. But he never brought any of them home, so we assumed…’ She trailed off.
My gaze shifted to Ryan. Girlfriends? Plural?
I pressed my lips together. ‘We’ve been together since the start of university.’
Ryan hadn’t had multiple girlfriends. He’d had one. Me.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise,’ she said. ‘Ryan never mentioned your name…’
I inhaled sharply. Three years and he’d never said my name. Why?
Why hadn’t he told them about me?
Why hadn’t he invited me to visit the stables during the holidays?
Why hadn’t he introduced me to his parents?
It wasn’t the first time those questions had crept into my mind, but I’d never asked them aloud.
Because, if I had, then he’d have wanted to meet my family too.
The sky was beginning to dim as we drove down the long driveway to Blackwater Stables. I peered up at the farmhouse as we pulled in, the darkened brickwork and dipping roof, old and imposing.
The smell hit me the moment I stepped out of the car. Manure.