“Sorry. I’m boring you rigid, aren’t I?”
“Not rigid, no,” Rachel answered. “The rigor mortis won’t set in for another hour.”
“You have a high tolerance, then,” he said with a laugh, and steered her towards the river. “But there’s one more feat of engineering I want to show you.”
“Uh-oh.”
“You’ll like this one, I promise.” He’d taken her hand, loosely threading his fingers through hers, and Rachel felt a jumping sensation of awareness in her belly, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Flirting with Rob Telford at the Hangman’s Noose had never made her feel like this.
They walked down Bridge Street, turning down the narrow St. Mary’s Passage, before emerging in front of the River Irwell a narrow white footbridge with steel cables like gossamer strands stretching high above.
“The Trinity Footbridge,” Andrew announced. “It joins Manchester to Salford. I worked on it back in 2010. Just some repair work, but I’ve always liked it.”
“It’s striking,” Rachel said. She liked the way the bridge seemed suspended over the river, its arch deceptively simple.
“Come on,” Andrew said, and tugged her up onto its narrow walkway. The sun was still high in the sky, but the wind was dying down so the surface of the river was placid and still, the sun’s rays touching it with gold.
They walked to the middle of the bridge, stopping to gaze out at the city. Rachel let out a long rush of breath.
“It’s beautiful. I’ve enjoyed today.” She glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking at her, his gaze on the cityscape spread around them. “I think I needed a day out of reality. To recharge.”
“It doesn’t need to be just a day,” Andrew said, and Rachel tensed, her insides doing a weird flip-flop.
“What do you mean?”
He turned to face her, his expression intent. “You’ve given ten years of your life to your family, Rachel. Lily’s going to university and Meghan can manage her own child—”
“And my mother?” she interjected sharply. She wasn’t sure she liked where this was going.
“I don’t know how her rehabilitation will go, but there might be solutions. Why shouldn’t you go back to university, have at least some of the life you wanted? You’ve deferred your dreams for long enough.”
She turned back to face the river, hating that he’d made it sound so easy. It was easy, for someone who had money and ambition and time, with no commitments, no strings. She had strings dangling all over the place, tripping her up at every step. “It’s not that simple, Andrew.”
“It could be.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“Yes, it is easy for me. I’m not pretending it would be easy for you. But why won’t you even think about it? You complain about being stuck in a rut, but you won’t actually do anything about it.”
“Wow, you’re ending this day on such a terrific note,” she drawled, sarcasm the cheapest defense. “Thanks so much for a lovely day out.” She turned and started walking, blindly, filled with a fury she couldn’t articulate.
“You’re heading towards Salford,” Andrew called to her, and muttering a curse, Rachel turned around. “And you know why I think you won’t even think about what I said?”
“Oh, you’re a psychologist now too, are you?” Rachel snapped. Her comebacks sucked, but she couldn’t think of anything better. She felt too raw to be clever.
Andrew had folded his arms and stood in the middle of the footbridge so she couldn’t pass. A couple of pedestrians were coming behind him at a brisk clip, and in a few seconds he waseither going to be pushed out of the way or cursed at, yet still he stood in the middle of the bridge, seeming to straddle the world.
“You’re scared,” he stated. Rachel jerked back.
“Scared?”
“Of trying and failing. Everyone is to some degree, but you’ve let it paralyze you.”
“Hey,” a man behind him called as he came striding forward, briefcase swinging at his side. “How about getting out of my way?”
“My thoughts exactly,” Rachel snapped, and pushing past Andrew, she started walking back towards the city center.
Chapter twenty-two
