Chapter 6
Cherry
‘Welcome to Kinshore.’ Sean caught her staring blankly into the darkness beyond the driveway lights. ‘It’ll seem better in the morning.’
‘Thank you. I’m sure it’s stunning.’
As he fetched their luggage from the boot of the car, Cherry stared at the solid, traditional Scottish home. For a second, she imagined standing at the window upstairs, a little baby on her hip as she gazed across the sands to beautiful lands.
‘It is. Listen, Cherry, it’s late, and we can talk after we’ve both had some sleep, but would you let me do one thing here, please?’ Sean unlocked the house door, placed the luggage inside, then came back down the steps towards her.
‘Um…sure.’ Briefly, she wondered if he was about to seize an entirely inopportune moment to kiss her. But before she had time to think further, Sean was sweeping her into his arms, striding up the steps two at a time and carrying her over the threshold into his home.
‘Whatever happens’ – he lowered her to the floorboards – ‘even if it’s old-fashioned, I need to do the right thing by you.’
Cherry’s heart nearly exploded, and she almost asked him to lift her up again and carry her straight to the bedroom.
Despite all her personal misgivings, she had never felt as safe as she did in Sean’s arms. This man would care for her.
Couldn’t she relent and let him? Have those barrel-making biceps at her disposal forever, ready to wrap around her whenever she needed them, like he’d vowed to do. For better or for worse.
How long would that last before the cracks appeared?
She couldn’t destroy him, see him fall apart like Dale.
Better to be alone than responsible for that.
But she had let him do the traditional thing, because – if there was a sliver of a chance for them – she, too, wanted the old-fashioned memory of her husband carrying her into his home.
Their home.
Her husband who, despite the miles they had travelled over the past twenty-four hours, didn’t seem remotely tired or fazed by the journey or the distance she had created between them. He appeared as bright and energetic as the evening she’d met him.
‘So this is it.’ Sean switched on a lamp, illuminating the inside of the house.
They were standing on the edge of a huge open-plan space with a modern cream and wood shaker-style kitchen to the right, a generous dining area with patio doors to the back of the kitchen.
To the left was a spacious lounge with a huge pillowy couch you could curl up on, losing yourself staring out the huge windows to the sea.
The whole place smelled of deep oak and salt air.
It was homely and beachy at the same time.
‘This is stunning, Sean. It’s huge, but so cosy and cool.’
‘Cheers. It was a wreck, but I’ve tried my best to shape it up. Still needs some TLC – more paintings, rugs and stuff. And the garden is a state, but we’re getting there.’
‘You did all the refurb yourself?’
‘Aye. I like a challenge.’
‘I love it so much.’ Cherry moved around the room, gravitating to some photos on the mantelpiece.
She picked up a framed photograph of what must be the whole Butler family, tapping with her fingernail at an older man in the middle, who a bore a strong resemblance to Sean and whom she recognised from some of the photos he’d shown her in New York. ‘This is your dad, right?’
‘Aye, that’s him.’ She saw Sean’s eyes brighten before darkening, as if remembering his dad was no longer around. ‘That was taken at one of the birthday parties my mum held for him every September. Won’t be one of those this year.’
Cherry scanned the photo and found Sean. The resemblance to his dad was even clearer when side by side. Same strong build, same heartbreaker smile, same warmth that radiated through a camera lens.
‘You all seem so happy, healthy and well-rounded.’ The perfect family.
‘Aye.’ Sean’s breath was a little laboured, like he was pondering his next words.
‘My family’s not exactly how it looks from the outside, though, Cher.
My dad didn’t marry my mum and seven healthy kids miraculously appeared.
They went through the wringer on the way.
As you know, Mum married his brother first and had three kids with him. ’
‘Yes. Cal, Jamie and Niall.’ Cherry tapped at the faces of the three men she’d met at the wedding. ‘Yes?’
Sean moved a little closer. ‘Aye. Mum left Uncle Archie after all his shite, got together with Dad and they had me.’
‘And then they adopted triplets,’ Cherry continued from the memory of all Sean had told her. ‘Nate, Cara and Eilidh?’
‘Aye, so, we’re a mishmash. A blended family, I believe they call it. My idea of family might not be as black and white as you think.’ He barely blinked as he let her take this in. A sign he was deadly serious.
Cherry nodded. She knew what he was telling her. Things didn’t have to be cookie-cutter shaped. But she wanted that for him. He deserved straightforward.
Sean took the frame from her. ‘My dad had seven kids, six of whom weren’t his biological kids, but he loved us all with equal ferocity.
I might look most like him, but his influence will stay in all of us forever…
’ His voice cracked a little, and he scrubbed his jaw before putting the photo back on the mantelpiece, half grunting something indecipherable.
‘You okay?’ Instinctively, Cherry moved to him. ‘It’s still super new, Seany. You don’t have to always be Captain Coping, you know.’
A lopsided expression appeared on his face as he plunged his hands into his pockets and appeared awkward for the first time since she’d met him.
‘I love the way you call me Seany, like you’ve known me forever. As soon as we met, it was like we’d known each other all our lives.’
What else could she say to this? That was her experience, too. She simply smiled and tried to stem her tears.
‘Anyway,’ he said. ‘All I know is Captain Coping. Breaking down isn’t an option.’
‘Why? Why can’t you? I don’t mean have a nervous breakdown, but grieve. Cry. Talk about it.’
‘Because people need me. My mum needs me to be strong. The community needs that, too. My dad went through hell, and he didn’t fall to pieces. Why should I get to indulge?’
Cherry could see now that Sean’s coping approach was in part a tribute to the father he loved so dearly and part fulfilling expectations – letting everyone else grieve while he battled on stoically.
‘Because it’s healthy,’ she said. ‘You can be sad remembering someone you loved. Fall on the floor and sob one minute and then be happy at the good memories the next. Any emotion is acceptable. And he was your dad, so it’s your right to grieve him.
’ This carry-on-all-stoical attitude reminded her of Dale after the first miscarriages – holding things in, pretending it was fine, being there for her but not himself.
She should have made him go to counselling.
‘Aye, okay. Thanks, Cherry,’ Sean mumbled gruffly.
‘No bother, Seany. What’s your favourite memory of your dad?’ Cherry might struggle with her own demons, but she had learned a lot about grief. And meant it when she said to enjoy the good memories.
‘How do you pick one?’ Sean moved to the window, staring out into the black, his reflection clear in the polished pane.
‘Probably surfing together or the chats over a whisky when I was older. I loved those. I remember when I told him I wasn’t going to uni like everyone else, and he poured me a dram and told me I could do an apprenticeship at the cooperage.
He never pushed us to work for the business, though that was his ideal. ’
‘I bet he was so proud of you.’
‘Aye, maybe. Maybe.’ Sean shut down the conversation in those three words, his eyes glistening. ‘Right, listen, Paradise, I get the feeling you might want to sleep alone tonight.’ He scrutinised in an astute, perceptive way that made it very difficult to make a wise decision.
She should sleep alone. She wanted to sleep with Sean, but if she did that, it would muddy the waters entirely, mess her up emotionally, stymie the annulment and she’d never be able to walk away like she needed to for his sake. It would be a selfish, selfish choice.
‘Fuck.’
‘That’s the question, isn’t it?’ Sean said.
‘Did I say that out loud?’
‘Aye, but I’m messing with you. The spare room is already made up. We’ve somehow gone this long without jumping each other’s bones, so why don’t you get some sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning. The last thing I want is for you to regret any of this.’
‘Do you regret it?’ The question was out without a thought.
‘Nope.’ Sean hadn’t missed a beat before answering. ‘I mean, it was a bit mental, I guess.’ His mouth lifted upwards into a tension-melting smile.
Cherry was glad he’d said it. ‘Yes, I’ve never done anything like that before, you might be glad to know.’
‘Aye, so let’s take it easy on ourselves, okay? You, especially. Come on, I’ll take your bags upstairs, show you to your room.’
In the spare room, standing next to Sean, Cherry had to fight the temptation to press herself to his wide chest and kiss him.
This man – this gorgeous, broad-shouldered Scotsman – was, for now, her legal husband.
How the hell had that happened? She could have him on tap if she wanted.
They could be naked between those sheets in mere moments if she gave a sign – said ‘let’s fuck all night and not think about the future’.
Everything she’d seen under that kilt, and more, could be hot and urgent against her own skin. Inside her.
What would the word or words be?
Strip for me!
Fuck me, Sean!
Fuck your wife, please! Now!
‘You alright?’
‘What? Oh, yeah, I will be once I get into bed. So tired.’ Cherry exaggerated yawning and stretching, so much so that it must seem completely fake, and Sean eyed her like she was a little deranged.
‘Aye, you’ll be knackered.’ He glanced at the bed.
Was he thinking what she was? God, they were idiots.
No, she was an idiot who’d held back a life-altering truth from him.
He was a level-headed, honest gentleman who didn’t need any more heartache ripping his life apart.
How could she watch him go through more pain than he was?
As a wife, she should raise him up, make him the best version of himself.
But her past was a wasteland of relationships she had ruined – some destroyed by her itinerant lifestyle, the last one by incessant grief.
She was the common denominator in the decimation.
‘Bathroom is down the hall,’ Sean added.
‘It’s all yours since my room has an ensuite.
If you get lonely, you know where I am. Well, you don’t, but I’m in the room next door.
’ He switched the bedside lamp on and the main light off, giving the room a softer vibe. ‘Night, Cherry. Hope you sleep well.’
‘Night, Sean. You, too.’ Jeez, she was already lonely without him, and he hadn’t even left the room. How was that possible? Married for forty-eight hours, not slept with her husband yet, and missing him whilst standing in front of him.
What sort of fucked-up dumpster fire was Cherry Paradise’s so-called life?