My heart hurt for my aunt. To love someone and not be able to have them even if they loved you in return must’ve been hell. “They saw each other in secret?”
“At first. He moved inland. She visited him and then eventually moved there. She only moved back here after his death.”
“Did they marry?”
Nan laughed and shook her head. “No. I think they felt that them getting married would mean they’d betrayed Julia properly. And by the time their guilt had waned there was no point. If Marcy had gotten pregnant, I dare say it would’ve been a different matter. You should carry on reading her letters. Although she did withhold things from Alice. I think she might’ve considered turning them into a book at some point when she was younger.”
“Why didn’t she?”
Nan shook her head. “I don’t know. Marcy danced to the beat of her own orchestra.” She stood up. “I should carry on. What are you doing this afternoon?”
“Reading. I might set up a job search.”
“Good plan. Think about coming home.”
* * *
I settledoutside on a hammock that Gabe had put up, switching between reading my book – a funny romance about a Navy SEAL and a computer hacker – and watching the gulls in the sky. The sea was in a good mood, the waves gentle as they licked the rocks.
It was Hollywood hour, the time when the light was ideal for taking photos casting shadows like a contour artist. Somehow, a glass of wine had made its way next to me and my book been devoured and I was now on a second helping.
The man who appeared in the distance, the sun shadowing his face, had a build I’d become more than familiar with over the last few weeks. I sat up, aware of how to move to ensure the hammock stayed stable.
“Made any good catches?”
His eyes twinkled as he came closer. “None better than the one I’m hoping to pull this evening.”
I smiled, resisting the urge to jump straight into his arms and hope he’d catch me. “Tell me about this evening catch.”
“It’s a tough one. I’ve been trying to reel her in all summer. There have been a few successes, but I don’t take it for granted.”
He leaned over and kissed me. He smelled of summer, of musk and cologne. He smelled like my sheets did most mornings.
“And do you think you’ll have success tonight?”
“I’m hoping so.” He jumped on the hammock with me, making it sway dangerously.
I laughed gripping on until he steadied it with his legs. And then I was lying on top of him, arms wrapped round me, firm muscle my mattress, his soft chuckle my lullaby. Only I wasn’t planning on sleeping.
“Where are you going to take this catch?” I traced his lips with my finger.
“I was thinking a Michelin-starred restaurant for dinner or have a chef come and cook something up in my kitchen.”
“Fish and chips by the sea?”
“Damn right.”
* * *
We stood watchingthe waves break against the rocks, the sun dimming in front of us, eating from hygienically prepared mock newspaper which contained greasy chips and perfectly battered fish, smothered in curry sauce.
Gabe stood next to me, his eyes alternating between watching me and the scene in front of us, a wooden boat being tossed on the waves, gulls floating above us and the sky fractured with shades of red and orange. I knew he was planning a painting, I could tell by the expression on his face. I also knew there would be a good chance I’d be in it.
He’d been drawing me more, now open about it after he’d shown me the paintings I was in weeks ago. Two of the ones he’d done since had been sold, which I found a little strange, but he’d kept the one of me on the beach, the second time he’d seen me.
“I’ve changed the design of the master bedroom.” He scrunched up the paper, his dinner demolished. “I like sleeping up another level, so I’m creating a mezzanine.”
“What about the window?” His plan was complex and technical, involving getting in as much natural light as possible and creating space. He was excited about it, the moments when he became guilt-ridden fewer.
