Chapter 35
FLORENCE
We’re sitting side by side on the sofa and I’m leaning against him.
He’s pointing to a book on my shelves. ‘I read that spicy bakery romance novel you once recommended.’
I stare at him in surprise. ‘You read it?’
‘Florence, I took my job as Chris seriously.’
I giggle. ‘Thoughts?’
He runs a hand through his chaotic brown hair. ‘It made me blush in parts.’
‘Can I add that to my review? The author would love to hear she made a thirty-one-year-old man blush.’
We both laugh, and my chest feels like it’s filled with a hundred tiny robins all flapping their wings. What is Clark doing to me?
I take out my phone and bring up Detective Holloway’s LinkedIn profile.
‘She’s now a detective inspector. There’s no photo.
I want to see what she looks like.’ I tap her name into Google to see if I can find one.
It takes a while but eventually I find a newspaper article with her name featured.
There’s also an image. She has a mass of black springy curls, and a vague sense of familiarity washes over me. ‘I’ve seen her before.’
I take a screenshot of the address where she’s currently based. Tomorrow I will send her Mary’s book with a note saying Read the acknowledgements.
Clark is looking at me. ‘Can we talk about the test as I am getting stressed again?’
I put down my phone. ‘What do you think?’
He lets out a heavy sigh. ‘I don’t think we’ll have passed. Yes, we discovered that Mary was a serial killer and we got excited, but we haven’t turned her book into a bestseller. I also messed up Jack’s football match, and he refuses to talk to me.’
‘I agree,’ I add as worry starts to engulf me.
‘I told my mum about Dad and she hates me,’ he says. ‘That’s a change. Not a good one but like you said this morning, her pain and anger at him was never mine to carry.’
Laura’s face flashes up in my mind. ‘Laura got to go on a hot date with Ronan. That’s a change but I still feel bad for poor Molly.’
He takes hold of my hand. ‘We’ll get through whatever happens to us, Florence.’
I give his hand a gentle squeeze.
A meow makes us both jump.
‘Has your cat got into my house?’ I ask him.
He looks around and then gasps. A white cat jumps onto my coffee table. It sits down and starts to lick its paws.
‘Is it a stray?’ I ask.
‘The collar,’ he says, pointing. The cat is wearing a silvery collar and attached to it is a tiny roll of white paper.
He leans over, strokes the cat, who stops cleaning and starts to emit a loud purr.
Carefully he releases the tiny roll. The second he does the cat flicks its head to the back of my living room, leaps off the table and runs away.
He hands the message to me. With trembling hands, I open it.
YOU’VE FAILED AGAIN. YOU ARE CLOSE. BUT TIME IS RUNNING OUT, TRY AGAIN.
Relief floods through me as I turn to him. ‘We’ve got another chance…’
He’s staring at me. ‘I need to do something. It’s been on my mind for some time. If I don’t do it now, I might regret it.’
‘What?’
Reaching out, he cups my cheek before leaning in and pressing his lips against mine.
They are soft and warm. There’s no pressure from him to turn it into something else.
His hands remain where they are and don’t go wandering, not like some men who I have kissed for the first time. It’s special and perfect.
It comes to its natural conclusion, and afterwards, he rests his forehead against mine. Neither of us says anything. We just listen to each other breathe.
‘Thank you,’ he whispers, breaking the silence.
He pulls away and I gaze into his eyes. ‘That was worth the wait.’
His arms wrap themselves around me and we sit entwined on the sofa.
There’s no need to say anything. It feels natural to be in his arms. I think about the test and what we still must do. It’s time to get serious.
‘Clark,’ I say, ‘I’m going to close the café tomorrow. I will come to Pixie Cove with you and Pearl.’