Tears immediately spring into my eyes. He’s familiar and yet a stranger at the same time. I know how to fit under his arm and where he likes his neck to be kissed, but suddenly I have no right to. His skin is cool and smooth against my cheek, his cologne oddly strong and spicy.
I stand stiffly in his embrace. All I can think about is Archer, and how different it felt to be in his arms. The warmth of his body. The brush of his beard against my face as I kissed him. His elegant cologne. How much I liked that he was taller. And how he kissed me as if he wanted me more than anything in the world. I feel as if I’m betraying him by hugging Jude. How strange.
Maybe conscious of my lack of response, Jude draws back and lowers his arms. “See you around, I guess.” He turns and gets in the car, and soon he’s heading back down the drive.
I watch him go, and then I walk into the cottage and close the door.
Chapter Sixteen
Archer
After leaving the Forever Home, I return to Frieda and add a bag of Royal Canin and a medium-sized crate to the pile of stuff for Queenie, pay for it all, and take everything to the car.
I get behind the wheel and pause for a moment. I’d like to have seen Queenie, but I don’t want to go back into the building. I only have one more day until I can take her home. I’ll just have to wait.
Looking further along the drive at where it curves around to Noah’s house, I can’t see the cottage because it’s tucked behind a row of trees, but I know where it is. I’m tempted to drive down there and check if Beth’s okay, but I’m not yet secure enough in our relationship to know whether she’d want that, and I’m not sure either how she feels about what happened today. She might be angry at me for punching Jude.
I’m so mad at myself for that.
I am also, I admit to myself, glad that I punched him and not the other way around.
Annoyed at myself for feeling smug, I put the car into drive and head to Isaac’s office at the edge of the bay. I park outside and go in, and he makes me a cup of coffee and invites me into his office. I try to put everything else out of my mind as he goes through his plans.
He’s another old school friend of mine, practical, honest, and down to earth, and it was an easy choice to hire him for the work at PAWS. “She’s solid,” he says, tapping the plan with his pen. “Good bones. No subsidence, roof’s sound, piles are fine. We’re not touching the structure, so it’s mostly a refit. We’ll do new wiring, bring the plumbing up to code, give it fresh linings, and open it up a bit so it flows. A new window in the kitchen, maybe a skylight, to make it feel more spacious and bright. Obviously a full repaint, some new fixtures and fittings. I think we can do all that in six to eight weeks, all going well.”
Relief washes over me. The place doesn’t need rescuing, only updating. We could be up and running, helping people, in a couple of months.
“That’s terrific.” I’m thrilled. We go over his quote, taking out some bits and putting in others as I think of them, and I sign off on the cost. We shake hands on it, and then I head back out into the warm afternoon sunshine.
When I get home, after I’ve brought all Queenie’s stuff inside, I go for a run. The sun is low in the sky, and the lagoon is the color of marmalade. I jog all the way along the beach, thinking that it’s going to be nice to have a dog around again, running beside me. Although she’ll still need a lot of attention because she’s young, it’ll be a bit easier that she’s not a new puppy. But I’m looking forward to the company. I’ve been on my own too long.
As if I’m on a carousel, my thoughts come back to Beth again. I’ve spent the past two years caught up in my feelings for her. I have been out with a couple of girls, mainly through well-meaning friends, but I’ve been half-hearted, and they’ve never gone beyond a couple of dates. Beth’s always been on my mind. I’m so in love with her, and yet I know I can’t make this move faster. She has to proceed at her own pace. My hands are tied, and it’s incredibly frustrating, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
It’s possible she went to the house today to pick up some of her stuff. How would Jude have reacted to her being there? I torture myself with images of the two of them declaring they still have feelings for one another, cuddling, making up, ending back in bed. No, that won’t happen; both of them seemed quite convinced they were done. But I know how strong the bonds are between two people who’ve lived together that long. How many times have I seen couples who’ve insisted their relationship is over, but have still been together six months or a year later as they struggle to make it work? They’re both young, and obviously attracted to one another. Sometimes it’s harder to break up than stay together.
Tired and a bit dispirited despite the beautiful scenery, I head for home and have a quick shower. Then, rather than just toss a frozen pizza in the oven or go out to get dinner, I take some time to stir fry some chicken and vegetables. I add a green salad, then take it all out onto the deck with a slice of crusty bread and a glass of wine.
While I eat, I look at where my phone sits on the table. After a while, I pick it up and stare at the screen. I put it down again and eat a bit more. Then I pick it up again.
I can’t message her. I mustn’t.
Then I sigh. This is ridiculous. I’m a grown man, and we’ve slept together. It’s perfectly acceptable to message and ask if she’s okay. I suppose I’m worried that she might be angry with me for causing a scene today. Well, if she is, I deserve it. And I’m not going to be able to sleep unless I hear from her.
Me:Thinking of you x
I put the phone down, finish off the stir fry, and lean back to sip my wine.
The sun is sinking below the horizon. Where is she? With Jude? Or back at the cottage? I feel a deep sense of longing to hold her, kiss her, comfort her. I wish she was here.
On the table, my phone buzzes, making me jump. It’s a call. I pick it up, see her name, and my heart leaps.
Not yet, I think as I answer it. She might be calling to end this.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” she says.
“Hey, you.” I force myself to smile so she can hear it in my voice. “It’s nice to hear from you.”
