What the hell happened? It can’t be that I wanted to ask him a personal question. He just made me tell him my green room fiasco story. Surely, this entitles me to a little trust from him.
Osian is preoccupied and he’s done that trick of his: withdrawing into himself so even in the small space inside the Jeep, he’s put an acre of wasteland between us.
The ten-minute journey seems to last an hour and a half until he drives up the hill that separates the village from Kendric Park.
A thought nags at me. Did he freeze after I asked him or before? Was he already silent when we left the pub, but I hadn’t noticed because I’d been deep in my own thoughts and memories? What if…
What if he began to freeze after the waitress tried to hit on him? What if that easily deflected offer also reminded him that our relationship had crossed into something more personal? Reminded him that he’d been holding my hand for the best part of ten minutes.
The more I think about it, the clearer it seems. He’s been carried away on a wave of care and compassion, my story of misfortune. And this caring man, who can’t resist helping, had forgotten himself for a minute and later realised it and pulled back.
As we drive through the ornate iron gates of Kendric Park, he suddenly breaks the silence.
“I’ll drop you off at the house, but I’m going on for a long drive; the car needs it to clear the pipes.”
The car needs it, or he does?
“Okay.” I do my best to sound unaware of the rejection. Not sure I succeed.
All too soon, he pulls up in front of the great double doors. My seatbelt is already unclipped, my hand on the door handle even before he’s stopped. If he doesn’t want me in his space, I don’t want to be here a second longer than necessary. But then he lays a hand on my elbow.
“Evie,” he says quietly.
A part of me wants to get out of the car anyway. Except leaving in a huff would make it obvious I’m upset. So I pause, one foot already half out.
“Close the door for a minute.”
I do. At least without letting myself say ‘okay’ again because that makes me sound meek and compliant.
He takes his time coming to the point; whatever it is can’t be easy. There’s that vertical frown line between his eyebrows. Finally, he speaks as if each word is wrapped in thorny rosebriars. “I won’t answer questions about my wife, so please don’t be offended if… you know.”
“No, I’d never ask anything like that. Not in a million years. I promise you,” I rush to assure him.
He exhales as if he’d been holding his breath. “I just wanted to lay ground rules so there’s no friction later. That subject is out of bounds.” Already he sounds much more relaxed.
If there’s a clenched feeling of rejection around my heart, I push it down. “You don’t have to worry.”
He gives me a grateful look. Another one of those looks that make me want to hug him.
“Good,” he says. “Because I’d like us to be friends, especially if we’re going to work together.”
I want to offer him my hand to shake but am too afraid he’ll refuse it. So I just say, “Friends.”
He nods and turns the keys in the ignition to start the car. “See you tomorrow morning.”
“Good night.” I climb out of the car and go inside.
Chapter Twenty-four
The next day, we both take a long step back, back to the time we were almost strangers. It’s as if we’d trespassed across a boundary into private grounds. This morning we are carefully cordial, like colleagues. No, actually – like two people who got drunk and had sex last night and now desperately wish they hadn’t. So they pretend it never happened. Osian and I act as if we never had that conversation in the pub or later in the car.
For a start, we don’t have coffee on our balcony. I wait inside my apartment with the French windows open. Basically, giving him space to go out first. I wait and wait but he doesn’t come and there’s no smell of coffee from next door. Perhaps he too is waiting for me?
By 6:45 I’m sick of this.
To hell with playing meek, if he has a problem, then… well, then it’shisproblem. I’m going downstairs to Leonie’s café. She’s bound to have something yummy for breakfast.
Osian obviously has the same idea because he arrives a minute after me. Did he hear my front door slam shut and decide it was safe to come out?
