His voice rises in protest. ‘You are joking? This isn’t something I’ll get better from.’
However hard it will be for him to hear, it’s time he knew the truth. ‘You’ve got her accident on your conscience, why shouldn’t you be on hers? She hates feeling responsible for your guilt. All she wants is for you to start being normal again.’
One small grunt is all that comment gets. ‘I never thought of it that way.’
I’ve got a few fleeting moments to make him look at this differently. ‘Pixie hasn’t just made the best of it. She and Ewan wouldn’t be how they are without the accident. She probably wouldn’t swap back to her old life if it meant giving up what she has now, because they’re truly, properly happy. They love each other as they are. That’s such an amazing thing to find that the rest doesn’t matter.’ I stop and take a breath before I fire the biggest gun. ‘The cloud on her horizon isn’t that she can’t walk anymore – it’s that her brother is wrecking his life on her behalf because he won’t let go of the past.’ It feels like I’ve gone too far, but it’s my one chance to save him from himself.
He lets out a groan. ‘Oh shit.’
‘There’s something else too.’ Now I’ve started, I might as well give him all of my insight. ‘When my mum was ill, she didn’t ever grumble about how hellish it was not to be able to move a finger to scratch herself, not being able to swallow. She was never resentful about what she was losing, that bit by bit, day by day, her body wouldn’t work anymore. What made her apoplectic was when she saw someone who was lucky enough to be well, wasting their life.’
Nic swallows. ‘She’d have been furious with me, then.’
I’m nodding. ‘Too right. Circumnavigating the globe like an albatross looking for a pity party when you could have been living your best life? For four years now, too. That’s such a lot of your life to waste. If she could still have talked, she’d have given you such a bollocking you’d have heard her all the way to the village green.’ I’m hearing the words so clearly, it’s as if Mum’s saying them herself. I put a hand on his arm and squeeze it. ‘Everyone here, including you, helped me learn to love myself. Maybe it’s time for you to let the guilt go. Learn to forgive yourself.’
He lets out a sigh. ‘Until I do, I’m no use to anyone, am I?’ He shakes his head. ‘Okay, I accept I’ve got a problem, now I need to address it. Six months is a long time to do that. Now it’s happening, it feels more like forever.’
I’m parroting it back at him. ‘With an option to extend.’ I’m shaking my head because I want to support him as much as he’s supported me. ‘No one blames you, Nic. We all care about you, we all want the best for you. But you’re the only one who can make this happen.’ Maybe I need to clarify that for one last time. ‘If you sort yourself out, you’ll be the best guy for someone to love.’
He blows. ‘You’re the one person who’s dared to say this. Thanks for being brave enough to tell me the truth, Milla.’ He takes a breath. ‘I love you. For this, as well as the rest.’
I thump my fist onto his biceps. ‘Back at you, Captain K.’ And I’m really not lying. ‘Let’s hope I’ll catch you in another universe.’ Another life. And I’m not lying there either.
We’ve had our chance, and we’ve missed it. Spectacularly. But I’m not deluded either. He’s flying to the other side of the world. Once he’s thousands of miles away, surrounded by beautiful Aussie surfing babes, all helping him work through his problems, the likelihood of him coming back is zero. Seriously, wouldn’t you hit on him if you saw him on the beach?
His eyes narrow in the shadows and his voice is low, urgent. ‘Maybe you could come to visit – check out Sydney, we could sail up the coast, see the coral reefs. I could treat you …’
I’m blocking out how blissful it sounds, because I think this is desperation kicking in. ‘As if that’s going to fit in when I’ve got wedding fairs all the way to Christmas.’
He’s shaking his head now. ‘No, you’re right, of course you wouldn’t want to. Bad idea. It’s not fair of me to ask that either. You’ve just spent six years with a guy who wouldn’t commit. Me asking anything of you is like pushing you to make that same mistake all over again.’
It’s sad that this is so hopeless. If the last few months have taught me anything, it’s not to waste my time on anyone reluctant. And Nic is so much more decided than that – he’s in total denial. ‘If ever I try again …’ and right now I feel like I never will, but at least I know the theory ‘… I’ll be waiting for that special person who wants me every bit as much as I want them.’ Even as I’m saying the words, it’s reinforcing the message. A guy who’s running to the other side of the world to avoid me really isn’t that person.
Nic reaches out and rubs his thumb over my cheekbone. ‘You don’t deserve anything less, Milla Vanilla.’
‘No hard feelings, though?’ After all of this, I’d hate to part on bad terms. Phoebe and Ben have taught me that bad feelings bring you down; happiness comes from a positive place. And Nic might be ripping my heart out here, but it’s not deliberate. He’s never led me to believe he was available. He’s never been less than open and honest about it. As heartbreakers go, he’s very honourable. And endlessly caring. And considerate.
His chest heaves. ‘I’ll only ever have the warmest feelings for you.’
I’m swallowing back the lump in my throat as it’s slowly sinking in he’s not going to be anywhere near. That if there’s anything to ask, or say, time’s running out. ‘Do you still have your scar … from my arrow?’
As he tugs his shirt out of his trouser belt, and holds out his arms, the white fabric hangs luminous in the moonlight. ‘Why not take a look?’
My fingers are shaking as I fumble with the buttons. As I pull back the fine cotton, and tentatively slide my fingers over his taut tanned skin I feel him tense. ‘Is that ticklish?’
His voice is very low. ‘No, just very nice. Have you found it yet?’
As my fingers come across a small knot of skin, I smile. ‘It’s still here.’ I put my palm on his ribs, and stretch out my fingers as I peer into the shadows to find the mark. ‘You’ll be taking that with you, wherever you go.’
‘To remind me of the woman who stole my heart, then stabbed me.’ As he laughs and shivers again he reaches out, cupping my face in his hands. ‘That day at Jagger’s you were talking about being ready to move on.’ His voice is so deep, it’s vibrating below the rush of the surf and the wind. ‘Are you still thinking that would be good for you?’
My lips are parted, and my heart is banging so hard all I can say is ‘Ahhhh … I could be …’ I reach up with one hand, slide my fingers through his hair, and pull his head towards mine. Because I really do have nothing to lose here.
He’s breathing into my ear. ‘If you’d like me to help …’ His head is tilting as he looks at me. Then his jaw is lining up with mine, and just before his lips slide onto mine he says ‘Just say the word.’
And then as I find those familiar lips and get swept into the molten chocolate fountain of his mouth, it’s as if the world stops turning, and the sea is rushing through my head. And it’s like the first day in the van, and the day at the wedding fair, but because no one’s watching, it’s supercharged with an energy and an urgency so forceful that by the time we break apart, I feel like a rag doll that lost its stuffing.
When I finally get to talk all that comes out is a breathy gasp. ‘For definite … absolutely … totally … please …’
