‘I want to hear you say it.’ His gaze bore into hers, unwavering. ‘Was it just a one-night stand after too much wine?’
She hesitated, her throat dry. ‘We’re adults,’ she said finally, though the words sounded hollow even to her own ears.
‘So you’re saying it was just a bit of fun, to keep you amused, boost your ego, whilst you were here? A way to pass the time of day.’
‘No, that’s not what I’m saying.’
‘It sounds like it to me.’
‘I do like you, Daniel, I would hope that goes without saying. And yes, I shouldn’t have gone to Edgar behind your back. That was wrong. But you and I… we’re different people, from different worlds.’
He huffed a laugh, but there was no real humour in it. ‘Different worlds? Is that how you see it?’
‘I like order. I work every hour I can. I play hard with my friends. I even like paying my bills on time. I don’t fly by the seat of my pants.’
‘Let’s get this straight. What you’re saying is you regret it happening now because you suddenly realise that I don’t drive a flash car, drink cocktails in London bars, have a job that pays a decent salary, and most probably wouldn’t fit in with your life and friends.’
‘I didn’t say that.’ This was such an awkward conversation. Why had she complicated things by falling into bed with him? She knew exactly why: because she found him drop-dead gorgeous. He definitely wasn’t like her usual type– he was sensitive and shared his feelings– but that was like a breath of fresh air to her.
‘You didn’t have to.’ He shook his head, a mixture of disappointment and disbelief in his eyes. ‘You’re looking down on me. Judging me by the way I choose to live my life. You think it’s beneath you.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Isn’t it? You think I don’t work? That I don’t try? That just because I don’t measure life in how much I can control, it makes me some kind of failure? I live, Fern. I enjoy things as they come. I don’t stress about nonsense like bill reminders or whether my dinner plans fit into a Google calendar. I take people as they are. I like them for who they are, not for what they have. Maybe you should try that sometime.’
Fern swallowed. She wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but was he? That’s exactly how she had been living her life and, right at this moment, she wasn’t proud of it. The silence stretched between them. Then, without another word, Daniel turned and walked away.
‘Daniel. Please don’t go.’
‘I just need some space.’
She watched him walk out the door and down the lane. She couldn’t really blame him. After closing the door, she sat down at the desk and glanced towards Gerald, who was leaning against his wardrobe door with a SOLD sign hanging around his neck.
‘I think it’s safe to say I’ve messed up, Gerald.’ She sighed and wiggled the computer mouse. The screen lit up and a quick glance at the open sales page showed a neat little total in the corner.
£300.
She stared at it, stunned. Daniel had already made three hundred quid today. Maybe she had underestimated him and the shop.
Fern knew she needed to find him and talk to him. She didn’t want to let things fester. She had been wrong about the way she had handled this, and though she could be stubborn, and had never been one to apologise easily, this was different. Daniel was different. He was getting under her skin, making her question everything she thought she knew. It only took a second a lock up the shop and turn the sign to CLOSED.
Now, where did someone go on Puffin Island when they needed space? Her guess was the bay.
She wandered down the narrow, winding street, scanning the crowds along the beach. It was busy and as she glanced towards the Cosy Kettle she spotted Amelia talking to Becca.
‘Hey, sorry to interrupt, but have you seen Daniel?’
Amelia and Becca exchanged a glance before Amelia answered, ‘Yes, just now, but he didn’t look happy.’
‘That’s down to me. I owe him an apology.’
Amelia’s expression softened. ‘He headed up to the cliff top.’ She pointed towards the winding path that disappeared into the sand dunes. ‘Hope you can sort it. By the way, I was hoping to catch you today. There’s a few of us have drinks at the pub tomorrow night if you fancy it, just a girly thing we do each month.’
‘Please do come, Fern!’ Becca encouraged.
‘That would be great.’
‘Fab! We’ll be meeting at seven,’ said Amelia.
