Tom shakes his head with awe as we stand together at the balcony railing, soaking up the view.
‘I can’t believe you get to live and work here.’
‘So move,’ I joke.
‘It’s tempting.’
I laugh.
‘I mean it,’ he says, and the hairs on my arms stand up at the look on his face when he casts me a sidelong glance, because there’s a chance he’s serious. ‘I know I haven’t even been here three weeks yet, but I feel so at home in Cornwall. Maybe it’s the time I spent here as a kid, but the thought of leaving …’ He looks shell-shocked. ‘It actually makes me feel sick. Sorry, that’s fucking weird, but it’s the God’s honest truth,’ he mutters, straightening up.
I prop my elbow on the railing, facing him. ‘Couldyou stay?’ I pry.
He gives me a small nod and mirrors my body language. ‘I have nothing in Wales to go back to.’
‘What about work?’
His brow furrows and he turns his head to look at the sea, his expression pensive. ‘I’ll get a job here.’
Search and rescue operates out of Newquay, only a half-hour drive away, so it’s more than possible.
‘Does that freak you out?’ he asks carefully, returning his gaze to mine.
‘In what way?’
‘The idea of me sticking around.’
I let out a small laugh. ‘Are you kidding?’
It’s only when his shoulders relax that I realise they were riddled with tension a moment ago.
Tom studies my face before saying, ‘The manager at the Driftwood Spars thinks she can shuffle things around and put me up for a week or so at the beginning of July. She also has a few more days here and there, so I’m on a waiting list.’
‘That’s great news!’
He looks pleased at my reaction.
We’re interrupted by Tyler appearing around the corner of the balcony.
‘Oh, hey!’ I exclaim. ‘You’re early.’
‘No, I’m not,’ he replies with a frown.
I check my watch. ‘Whoa, it’s that time already. I need to open up,’ I say to Tom, reaching out to squeeze his arm before thinking better of it.
I gave Tyler a call on Monday after deciding that he shouldn’t miss out just because I’m still sore about Finn.
Am I still sore about Finn?
Not at the moment, I’m not. But that might have something to do with the gorgeous man who’s just gone upstairs to the kitchen.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
It’s Friday afternoon, a little over a week later, and I’m on my way back to Seaglass after getting Beach Cottage ready for a family of four. This morning, Tom moved out and into the Drifty and I hated being in the downstairs apartment without him. I was gutted watching him pack up, even though he wasn’t going far. If he’d returned to Wales today, as he’d initially planned, I would have been a wreck.
This time with him has been magical. We’ve spent every night together in his bed and have had breakfast opposite each other every morning in the kitchen-diner. He comes with me down to Seaglass, and even though the kitchen closes before the bar does, he waits for me to finish my shift before walking me home. He’s been back to the foundry with me to check on the patination work and I’ve sat on the beach a couple of times and watched him draw in the sand. I feel as though I’ve been given a sneak peek at a life that suddenly feels attainable, a future with someone to have and to hold, someone to wake up with, someone to share a home with.
Our KP returns tomorrow, but our sous-chef has asked for a few days off to prepare for his big move to London in ten days’ time, so Tom is going to step into his role and work at Seaglass for a bit longer.
