Chapter 7
Elizabeth
When he leaves my cottage, I stand by the window, fingers curled around a mug of tea that has gone cold.
The air smells of sandalwood and citrus.
He has left a trail of his scent behind him.
I don’t fully understand my feelings, but I hate that whilst looking out of the window, I realise I miss him.
I can’t bring myself to walk to the coffee shop in the morning.
My head is spinning with thoughts of Theo’s visit last night, his gentle way and the looks he gave me.
He thought I couldn’t see him watching my lips like they were his for the taking, or the way his possessive eyes slowly looked me up and down when I answered the door.
He isn’t as subtle as he thinks, and it only made me want him more.
Enough to let him kiss me. Or did he let me kiss him?
I place the kettle on the stove and make my morning coffee. With the cup warming my hand, I sit on the porch bench, feeling the soft whispers of the ocean around me. I need to just sit with my thoughts for a while. Take a breath.
I let the sun rise high in the sky before heading out into town. As the sun shows the first rays of the day, I grab my knit cardigan from the wardrobe along with Bear’s lead and head to the beach.
Bear runs ahead as he always does, and I stroll peacefully behind him.
Last night, when Theo left, I wished he had stayed longer.
He looked striking in the black tuxedo, hugging his body and showing me every devastating line.
He looked smart and sophisticated; his celebrity stature filled my small cottage.
When he removed his tie from around his neck, my breath hitched, trying not to imagine him stripping down in front of me.
I shook the thought immediately, scolding myself for it.
And the kiss… Oh God, the kiss. It had my legs trembling, begging for more.
The sand feels as if it stretches for miles today.
Nothing but the sparkling water and the crunch of sand beneath my sandals.
I glance into the distance and notice that sitting on a log is someone I vaguely recognise, snapping me out of my fantasy.
His light brown hair is tousled with the wind, and he looks at me with a familiarity.
His eyes are bright and knowing. Bear runs over to greet the man and is met with a scratch and a morning hello.
As I step closer, I realise that he’s in fact an old school acquaintance. I kept to myself at school with just a small circle of friends; however, I recognise him as the champion football player, James Hunter.
He turns and smiles at me.
“Morning,” he says. I politely reply the same and carry on past him, watching the sand between my toes. I feel like I’m back at school, small, quiet, unable to speak to the popular kids.
“Cute dog,” he comments.
I quietly chuckle to myself as me and Bear make our way closer to the town square. The buzz of the people going about their daily lives is loud, and it makes me regret not coming into town earlier.
As I round the corner, I am greeted by a stand full of the day’s newspapers, the news agent taking payment from an elderly, grey haired man.
I stop to glance at the news and trashy magazines, just for fun.
As I take a step to leave, I catch sight of a picture that makes me do a double take.
In the corner of the front page of the Daily Mail is a photo that I can’t tear my eyes away from.
My ears begin to ring, and my vision blurs.
There on the front page is a picture of Theo and his stunning wife.
Her dress hugs every curve of her body, and her long black hair is perfect.
Seeing them in black and white is a sharp jolt to my core.
His tuxedo is the same one I imagined him taking off in my kitchen last night.
The same buttons I tried so hard not to unfasten.
My body isn’t prepared for the involuntary reaction that hits me.
I grow cold, the breeze suddenly too cool for me.
I study the picture a moment too long, taking in every painstaking detail.
Theo has his hand around Olivia’s back, with his smiling lips to her ear as she waves in delight.
He has the same look he gave me when I let him in last night.
“You gonna buy that, love?” the news agent asks, forcing me away from my thoughts.
I throw my money for the newspaper down on the counter and place it under my arm.
It feels too heavy to carry, as if there’s a weight attached to it.
I race back along the beach to home, surprised by the jolt of envy I’m unable to shake.
He’s married. What am I thinking?
As I step into my front door, something crunches beneath my foot. I look down, and on my welcome mat is a piece of folded paper. I throw the newspaper on the coffee table and bend down to collect the note. With bated breath, I unfold the paper.
Tonight, can we talk?
Nothing else. Just a question and a telephone number underneath.
My heart races with nerves and the knowledge that he came back.
I read it twice before typing the number into my phone.
I know it’s Theo. Who else would it be? I need him to explain last night, to tell me what this is between us.
I can’t have my heart broken all over again.
I’m not strong enough for this. After a moment of staring at the paper in my hand, the thought slams back into me.
He’s married!
The words swirl around my head, reminding me of the utter mess I am getting myself into. The sun has fully risen, the sky finding warmth, but my body is still cold.
With apprehension, I stand in my kitchen and type out a reply.
Elizabeth: Hi Theo, it’s Elizabeth. I think a chat is a good idea. I will see you later this evening.
I don’t ask what time. I already know the rhythm of his patterns.
He’ll turn up when he knows the time is right.
When it’s quiet enough outside for him to sneak in, unseen, hidden in the shadows.
I muddle through my day without really doing anything.
My mind won’t let me. I pick up my notebook and pen in an attempt to distract myself; however, an hour later I am still staring at a blank page.
My brain is paralysed with anticipation.
I’m wishing the day away, too focused on getting to the evening ahead.
By 9:00pm, Bear has curled up on his bed in the corner by the fireplace, telling me he’s ready for bedtime.
At 10:00pm I turn off all the lights in the cottage, leaving only a soft lamp glowing near the window so Theo knows I’m still awake…
waiting. I begin to question whether or not he is even going to show up.
It’s getting late, and he didn’t reply to my message.
At 10:30pm, I hear his soft knocks. Two short, quiet taps that make my heart skip a beat.
When I open the door, he steps in quickly, his hood up, eyes scanning the quiet street behind him before settling them on me.
His eyes soften the moment we connect. We gaze at each other, and it takes all my self-control not to lean across and kiss him.
We’re standing so close, I can feel his hand near mine, tempting me to touch it.
I tell myself to stay strong, the newspaper flashing in the corner of my eye.
The newspaper I have tried so hard not to stare at all day.
He takes his hoodie off, and I look away as his T-shirt lifts slightly, just showing a glimpse of his abs and the V shape that trails into his belt.
I blush at the sight and inhale sharply.
In all our previous meetings, his clothes have kept his body hidden, but with the hoodie gone, all that’s left is a tight white T-shirt clinging to his chiselled body.
I watch as his arms flex whilst folding the hoodie neatly, laying it gently on the arm of the sofa. His muscles ripple, torturing me.
The air between us feels different, like a storm is brewing.
A quiet intimacy that both of us are trying hard to ignore.
As he turns to face me, he looks like he’s carefully separating himself from everything else outside of this room.
The warmth I once felt in the café has been replaced with precision.
His movements look like those of someone who has realised the true consequences of his actions.
He is being careful. Restrained. It’s scaring me a little.
He walks past me not saying a word and sits on the sofa in front of the fireplace.
The embers in the hearth are still crackling with a faint glow, ready to go out at any minute.
I sit down next to him, the tension settling between us like thick fog, weighing on my chest, choking me.
I can hear his foot tapping lightly on the floor, and his phone is gripped tightly in his hand. He’s nervous and struggling to hide it.
“You’ve been busy,” I say softly, unable to hide my jealousy, eyeing the newspaper that is still lying on the table in front of us. I watch him follow my line of sight and he shakes his head softly.
“Life is complicated, Elizabeth. You know that. Please…” His voice cracks and he seems worn down. Tired. “If you had asked me where I had been last night, I would have told you. I promised you…” he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “You can trust me.”
I study his sharp profile. The set of his jaw harsh, his teeth clamped together, and there’s a vein pulsing in the side of his head. His thumb is stroking over the edge of his phone as if he is waiting for it to ring at any moment. He hasn’t even looked at me yet. I hate it.
“I really missed walking with you this week,” I tell him honestly. I stop myself from reaching my hand out to touch him.
He finally turns to look at me with a face full of anguish, his eyes glassy. “We can’t keep doing that anymore, Elizabeth.”
“Because someone might see us?” I ask, not really wanting the answer.