‘Adam realised the only thing that would ever make me walk away was knowing you were having his baby.’
Chapter Thirty Eight
The holiday cottages were described online as being an ideal honeymoon location, and as I swept past the main farmhouse and down a winding drive to the four converted outbuildings, I could certainly see why. The Grade II-listed cottages were perfectly located for privacy and were set like tiny Monopoly houses against a backdrop of brilliant green rolling fields.
There was a lot to be charmed by as I approached The Old Dairy, where Josh was staying. Propped up against a post and rail fence was an old-fashioned bicycle, its panniers overflowing with wildflowers and a hand-painted sign attached to its frame, confirming I’d found the right location. It looked like a place where memories would be made.
I pulled up beside Josh’s rental vehicle and drew in a deep breath. My windows were wound down and yet my car was still fragrant with the sweet smell of warm croissants and cinnamon buns that I’d collected as soon as the bakery opened.
I was far too early. Josh wasn’t expecting me for another two hours. I crunched a pathway through the deep shingles to The Old Dairy’s entrance, where late-flowering roses clung to a trellis, scenting the air with their perfume.
As I waited for Josh to answer the door, I took a moment to savour the peace and tranquillity of the surroundings. This hideaway was so romantic that what I was about to do felt like pouring lemon juice on a cut.
He didn’t answer my first knock, and I shifted my weight nervously from one leg to the other before trying again, more insistently this time. There was a huge window at the front of the property, but I could see no movement from within. Was he still asleep in the rustic four-poster bed I’d seen in the gallery of photos on the website? The image of his naked limbs entangled in crisp white sheets was infuriatingly difficult to evict from my head.
I jumped guiltily when Josh opened the door, as though my thoughts were written all over my face.
‘Lily.’ There was both surprise and delight laced around my name. ‘Am I running ridiculously late, or are you early?’ He glanced down at his wrist as though to check on the watch he wasn’t wearing, while I tried very hard not to react to the fact thatactuallyhe wasn’t wearing much of anything at all, apart from a pair of faded jeans that he’d obviously pulled on so hastily the top button was still undone. That metal fastener drew my eye like the worst kind of magnet.
‘Sorry. I was still getting dressed,’ he added somewhat unnecessarily, as the morning sun caught his naked torso.
‘It’s my fault. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d just ...’ My voice trailed away. I took a step back off the flagstone doorstep on to the shingled driveway. ‘I’m sorry, Josh. You weren’t expecting me at the crack of dawn. Why don’t I go for a walk or something, while you finish getting ready.’ As though it was a peace offering, I thrust the bag of warm croissants towards him.
‘No, don’t be daft, come in,’ Josh said with an easy smile. He took the bag of pastries and couldn’t resist having a quick peekinside. ‘Besides, if you leave me alone with these, I can’t guarantee there’ll be any left by the time you get back.’
The front door opened into the dairy’s open-plan accommodation, which was currently bathed in buttery yellow morning sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I loved it all, from the uneven brick floor to the criss-crossed beams that were so low Josh must surely have had to duck to walk beneath them.
‘Let me grab a t-shirt,’ he said, turning towards a door that presumably led to the bedroom. ‘There’s a coffee maker in the kitchen, but I think you need a degree in rocket science to make it work. But if you’re feeling brave ...’
‘Always,’ I said, as though I wasn’t literally trembling with fear at the thought of the conversation I was about to start. The one that was likely to end us.
As he moved past me towards the bedroom, my attention was drawn to the tattoo inked beneath his right shoulder. I’d seen it for the first time during our night in his treehouse, but for reasons that still made my pulse quicken whenever that memory came up, I hadn’t paid much attention to the details of the inking. But I did now. The tattoo covered an old burn scar he’d always had; a scar he’d never wanted to talk about.
With fingers that should have known better, I reached up and lightly traced the outline of the shapes. They looked vaguely familiar. He jerked at my touch and drew in a deep breath, and it took all my control not to run my hands over the warm skin of his back.
I dropped my hand with a mumbled apology. ‘Sorry. I just noticed something – your tattoo is the same as the logo you carve on to your furniture, isn’t it?’
He turned around and there was an odd expression on his face. It wasn’t quite embarrassment, but it was certainly a close relative.
‘I could lie and pretend it was all part of a corporate branding plan, but the truth is the tattoo was a late-night drunken impulse when I was travelling through Asia.’
‘Oh,’ I said, standing on tiptoe to study what I now realised were Chinese characters. ‘What does it say?’
‘No idea. I picked it from a chart on the wall because I liked the shapes. But if I had to take a guess, it’s most likely Chinese for “Stupid drunk idiot”.’
‘But then you used it for the Wildwood logo?’ I asked, unsure why he still looked uncomfortable. Lots of people got impulsive tattoos; it was hardly something to be ashamed of.
‘Like I said, I liked the shape of the symbols.’ He reached for the door handle beside him. ‘Let me finish getting dressed and maybe we can figure out the coffee maker together?’
By the time he reappeared, wearing a soft grey t-shirt and with his jeans thankfully securely fastened, I’d made us coffee and practised at least half a dozen segues for how to go fromDo you want milk with that?toIt’s not you ... it’s me.
‘You’re a genius,’ he said, dropping an unexpected kiss on my cheek.
After the intimacies we’d shared, that shouldn’t have flustered me. But it did.
‘Not really,’ I mumbled, opening the fridge and hoping the cool air would chill the blush from my face while I feigned a hunt for the butter that was right there on the shelf in front of me. Beside it was a bottle of champagne and some orange juice.
Josh leant across me, his arm inadvertently brushing against the swell of my breast. Fireworks that had no business being there ignited in every single nerve ending I possessed.
