‘But ofcourseyou rememberthatfact,’ Ash says teasingly, bumping my arm.
I let out a small laugh as my gaze wanders. There’s a stone tower nearby with a small balcony looking out over the lower terraces.
‘I kind of like that there are no manicured beds here, at least from what I can see. It all looks so wild and lush and overgrown.’
‘Which do you prefer?’ Ash asks. ‘Formal gardens or wild ones?’
‘I like both,’ I reply. ‘But when it comes to flowers, cottage garden plants are my favourites – irises and peonies, rambling roses, drifts of foxgloves and big clouds of purpleNepeta,’ I say with a smile. ‘My nan had the most incredible collection of lupins in just about every colour under the sun. She only had a garden the size of a postage stamp, but boy did she make the most of it. She planted them all out in a floral rainbow.’
‘Is that where you got your passion for gardening from? Your nan?’ Ash asks, his expression full of warmth.
‘Yeah,’ I reply sadly. ‘I used to go over to my grandparents’ house after school and help Nan with weeding and clearing. I felt so at home with my hands several inches deep in the soil.’
‘When did you lose them?’ he asks, his tone gentle, compassionate.
‘When I was sixteen. They passed away two months apart. I wanted to dig up some of Nan’s lupins before we sold the house, but my mum wouldn’t let me.’
‘Why not?’
‘They were just about to flower and she thought they’dhelp to attract a buyer. I asked if I could take some once the sale was going through, but she insisted the new owners had to get the garden they’d paid for. I wish I’d done it anyway. There were so many, no one would have noticed a few missing.’
He looks crushed on my behalf.
‘Shall we go for a wander?’ I ask.
Sunlight streams through the leafy cover of magnolia, chestnut, cedar and cypress trees as we make our way along the meandering paths. A hot wind flattens the long grass growing in some of the beds, and the clink of cutlery at the café carries on the breeze, along with the indistinguishable chatter of tourists.
Ash and I are both wearing the same outfits as yesterday and the wind is wreaking havoc on my red dress. As we walk up a spectacular staircase carved out of giant boulders, I have to hold it down so it doesn’t blow upwards.
‘I like your hair like that,’ he says with a smile as I secure it with a butterfly clip – the wind tore it loose.
We’ve come to a stop by a stone tower with a narrow spiral staircase winding up the inside.
‘You liked it last night too,’ I tease.
He laughs and his cheeks grow pink. ‘Last night was fun. The most fun I’ve had in a long time.’
‘Me too,’ I admit.
His expression grows serious as he stares down at me. I can’t drag my eyes away and jitters start up in my stomach as we stand for a minute, unmoving.
‘I guess we should go get in line for the Initiation Well,’ he murmurs, breaking the spell.
The queue is still long, but it’s nowhere near as bad as earlier.
I pull my water bottle out of my bag and take a few mouthfuls before offering it to Ash. He gratefully accepts. My eyes catch on his lips, pressed to the rim, then on a drop of water tracing its way down his neck. I try to distract myself from the lust rampaging through my body by firing off a quick text to Stella:I’m finally going to see the spiral staircase that you wouldn’t stop bleating on about!
I throw my phone back into my bag and we shuffle forwards a pathetic couple of feet. We’re going to be here a good half hour at least.
My phone buzzes.
My first thought is:Stella. And even though I know it’s wishful thinking, I get my phone back out and check the display.
And there – in bold text – is her name.
My head spins as I open the message.
Don’t think you meant to send this to me. This is my new number.
