“I’m good. It’s great to be home. I should’ve come back sooner.” I smelled coffee. I was sitting in the sixties kitchen with Gabe, having made our way here early in the morning. Our Friday had been spent at the bar, having a few drinks and a meal with Catrin and Anders, before going back to his where we’d lost ourselves in each other as we’d done several times during the week.
“We said. But you weren’t ready and to be honest, I think you did the right thing for your class. They needed someone who understood their loss. We’re opening a remembrance garden for Calen in October. The kids have designed it.”
“That’s good.” Gabe handed me a coffee and then wrapped his fingers in my hair. His laptop was open and he was working on the plans for his house. “It’s good to have something to remember him by.”
“It is. Are you coming back?”
The question was sudden and unexpected. When I’d left there had been no question of anything but a return. “I don’t know. I’ll need to work my notice.” The words were there. I couldn’t take them back. “I mean, I haven’t found anything yet…”
“Anya, you were going to look to move anyway. We all knew that. Don’t let what happened change your mind. And make sure I’m the first to know.”
“You want breakfast?” Gabe did not try to keep his voice quiet.
“Please. Just yoghurt and granola.”
He kissed the top of my head, his long hair tickling me.
“Anya. I hear a man in your house…” There was a warning note to Lorna’s tone.
“I’m actually at his.” I looked at Gabe. Everyone physically around us knew that we were kind of together. No one had passed judgement, just given a lot of winks and knowing looks. My sister had commented on how ‘well-built’ he was, which I’d figured was her attempt to find out about his size, and not his height.
“So? Who is he.”
Gabe gave me broad, completely amused smile and sat down, clearly wanting to see how I managed to get out of this.
“He’s just moved to the island. He’s trained as an architect but that’s been put aside while he paints.”
Thehefolded his arms and sat back. I tried to kick him under the table.
“What’s his name.”
“Gabe.”
“I need more information! What does he look like? I want a picture? Is he hot? I hope he’s better looking than that dweeb you were with last year! Does he know how to use his fingers properly?”
I started laughing, unable to take my eyes off the man in front of me who looked to be incredibly amused. “He’s tall. He has pretty decent biceps.” Gabe raised an eyebrow and flexed his arm. “Long hair and a bit of a beard. He’s got tattoos on his arms and back.”
“He sounds like a bad boy.”
That made me laugh. I didn’t think of Gabe like that. His tattoos weren’t trying to make a statement; they were just a way that he’d expressed himself. His hair suited him and the muscles he’d gained while he was in rehab, recovering from the back surgery he’d had after the crash.
“He isn’t. He’s Gabe. You’d like him.” She would. Helen would’ve approved. And she would’ve approved of how he made me feel.
“Is he staying on the island permanently?”
I looked at him, aware that he could just about hear what she was saying.
“Are you?” I mouthed.
He smiled, gesturing to the house and nodding.
“He is.”
“Hmmmm. Interesting. Looking for schools over there then?”
It became harder to breathe. “We’ve only known each other a couple of weeks.”
“True. Right, hon, I have to go. I need to take a shower before my chef gets back for our lazy morning watching cookery shows in bed. Talk to you during the week. And I’m happy – you sound more like you and less like that shadow you’d become.”
