Amy dragged in a breath, then gave him a thin smile. ‘Absolutely fine.’
‘Bit unexpected,’ he said, sounding as deflated as she felt.
‘Mmmm,’ she said.
‘You like him, don’t you?’ Hugh said, needling at the one place Amy felt sorer than the bruising on her ribs.
‘Mmmm. Doesn’t matter now, though, does it?’
Amy had done her best to rationalise what she’d seen earlier in the afternoon, when the new guests had arrived. When the woman with the short, blonde hair and the brilliant smile had arrived and claimed Tad’s attention. Amy had lain on her bed, determined to aim for positivity. Tried to emulate Nanny Gold. Had done her best to convince herself the new arrival and Tad might be nothing more than friends…
And even though it seemed fruitless, because it made sense, now, why he’d pushed her away, Amy had planned to ask Tad this evening, ask him outright if he was involved with that woman. With that clarity, maybe Amy would be able to do something about the way he made her feel, if she knew for sure it was pointless.
But when Tad had made a beeline for the table, with the latest arrivals in tow, and Amy had ended up sandwiched at the opposite end, the questions she wanted to ask seemed increasingly redundant, especially when Tad had taken the woman’s hand and led her away from the table. Nobody could misinterpret that, could they?
Amy’s questions dried at the back of her throat. Thank God she hadn’t embarrassed herself by asking them. How stupid she would have looked if she’d suggested Tad might be interested in her, rather than that beautiful woman.
She glanced at Billie, whose gaze had also followed Tad as he’d left the table. It was clear to Amy that her boss hadn’t been stirring things when she’d said Tad preferred women with short hair; she’d been giving Amy a fact. Often Billie’s actions came with ulterior motives woven in, but not this time. Had she genuinely been looking out for Amy, in her own way? Amy did her best to unpeel her lips from the tight smile she’d fixed her face into, and sighed, switching her attention back to Hugh, and his watery gaze, which now rested on her.
‘Plenty more fish in the sea?’ he said, quietly.
Somehow, his corroboration of what Amy was thinking – that Tad was off limits – made Amy want to cry. She certainly didn’t have any appetite for food.
‘I suppose,’ she said. Then she pushed back her chair. ‘I think I might head back to the hotel. I’m not hungry after all.’
‘Take care, Amy,’ Hugh said, making no move to try to stop her.
As she walked away, she felt sure she heard Hugh say, ‘damn’, but when she glanced back, he was lost behind the form of the waiter who had arrived to take their orders.
* * *
Tad and Clare settled on a bench, facing out across the lake. Lights glittered in reflected patterns on the water and although sunset was a while off, the light had already taken on a different texture.
Clare had done her best to sniff away her tears, but the corners of her eyes still held traces of them. Tad knew the signs – they’d shared enough of them over the years – although he didn’t understand why she was crying. She should be feeling happy, if she’d found someone new – someone to love like she’d loved her late husband, Grant.
‘Tell me what’s upsetting you, Clare. Please.’
When she didn’t immediately answer, Tad settled himself against the unyielding metal struts of the bench and waited. She would speak, when she was sure about what she wanted to say. Clare was measured, careful. Independent. It had taken a suicide attempt to allow her to understand how much she needed the help her friends had been trying to offer her. The help Tad had offered – the help that would always be ongoing. The support he would happily give her forever, without question.
‘I don’t want you to think I’m being disloyal to Grant. Or Lucy.’ At the mention of her tiny daughter, also lost in the car crash that had claimed Grant’s life, Clare’s voice cracked. ‘I don’t want them to feel like I’m leaving them behind, either. Do you know what I mean?’
She swung to face him, emotion fighting again to take control of her features. Clare had settled her grief on the idea that Grant and Lucy were not completely gone, instead they were in a nearby room – a room she wouldn’t be able to access until she too passed. She’d often referred to it as though Grant and Lucy were watching over her, were able to see her, even though she couldn’t see them. It wasn’t a million miles away from how Tad was dealing with his own loss – although for him, Honor resided in his heart and always would.
‘I know exactly what you mean, Clare. But Grant wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life alone, would he? You know that.’
‘No. I know that. I do. It’s just… I’m very happy, and I want to move my life forwards. But I feel such guilt about it.’
Tad nodded. ‘I get it. You have no reason to feel guilty – but I understand why you do. What’s his name?’
‘James. James Gardner.’
‘Well, Clare Jenkins, James Gardner is an extremely lucky man. And he must be an extremely special man, too, to have been chosen by you.’
Clare didn’t answer, instead she turned away and he could see her lips quivering as she fought against tears. She shook her head. ‘You don’t understand.’
‘Understand what?’ Tad took her hand.
‘There’s more.’
