He pulls me into a hug. ‘As if we’d give a damn what other people say! What matters is thatwe’rehappy with what we have.’
I can’t help my panic. ‘But neither of us wants any more than a one-night stand!’
He’s rubbing his thumb on his chin. ‘At the moment that’s true, but it’s not inconceivable things may change.’
‘What? Gossip turning into a self-fulfilling prophecy?’ That’s too weird to even think about.
When he starts again, he’s looking at me really hard. ‘Youarehappy, Floss?’
Obviously, there’s the part where I can’t keep my hands off him, and due to my situation I can’t bear to look beyond the moment we’re in because this can only ever be temporary. But within those tiny bites of time, whatever we’re doing he makes me feel so comfortable and cared for and alive. He’s so kind and hot and easy to be around and he makes me come all the time. When we’re together I never want it to end, and when he goes, I can’t wait to see him again. I know we’re only taking it a nanosecond at a time, but each of those is filled with the kind of burst of pure joy that I’ve never really known before.
‘Very.’ It only seems fair to try to describe it. ‘The kind of happy Shadow would be if he found a catering-size box of Teatime Assorted with the lid off, and I told him to eat every biscuit.’ I take a moment to let that sink in, because the more I think about it, the more I realise I’d hate it if he didn’t want to carry on. ‘And you?’
He pulls a face. ‘I’m the kind of happy Rye would be if you made him a brownie stack that reached to the ceiling.’
I can’t hold my grin back. ‘So minute by minute we’re both all good.’ As for things changing, he seemed pretty certain he wouldn’t ever be up for being in a relationship again and nothing will ever be different for me – so if we both want warm nights with no thought for the future, we should be a perfect match. ‘So what are you saying?’
He considers. ‘How about we ignore the rest of the world and talk again when summer’s over?’
I nod. ‘October’s so distant it’s as comfortable as infinity, isn’t it?’
I’m so pleased we’re still on the same page with this. All the soul-searching I’ve done, and I’d never even considered a ‘friends with temporary benefits’ model, which seems to be where we are now.
As I wait for Kit to finish his mouthful and agree, I’m looking out of the side window, idly watching a figure in brogues and a navy suit. It’s only as he comes closer that two things become obvious: he’s heading for the studio, and I know who he is. I let out a cry. ‘I know it’s his hotel, butwhat the hell is David Byron doing here?’
Kit looks at his watch. ‘He’s my one o’clock and he’s early.’ He blows out a breath. ‘I was going to tell you about it.’
I hear myself shrieking. ‘No! You absolutely mustn’t. Whatever he’s here for is completely confidential. Whatever it is,I reallydon’t want to know!’
I call Shadow, dive past the kitchen, and a moment later we’re out through the side door and heading back to The Hideaway.
JULY
42
The Deck Gallery, St Aidan
Secrets and pies
Monday
There are times when life gets so busy you don’t have time to worry about the small stuff. Not that people calling us an item was tiny. When Nell’s message first came, I was beside myself, but with two Hideaway hen parties with activities to deliver, most mornings at Kit’s, baking for the hotel, and a lot of Kit’s couples, not to mention St Aidan residents, ending up on my deck, I’ve been too flat out to worry about technicalities like my status. As for the bits in between with Kit, they’ve been like the buttercream swirl on the cupcake. The toffee brittle sprinkles on top of one of my desserts. The flake in the ninety-nine. If I’d never had it, I might not have missed it. But now I have it’s so delish, I’m determined to devour it.
As for any doubts, I refuse to spoil it by overthinking. It may be atypical, it may be unconventional, but when you stop to think about it, it’s completely in line with the minute-by-minute way I’ve been living for the last four years, so it’s no surprise how easily I’ve slipped into it. It might not be for everyone, but if it’s working for Kit and me, why knock it?
It’s a measure of how full-on things are that it takes a couple of weeks to dawn on me that I haven’t caught up with Plum lately. Whatever Kit and I said that day at the studio about not giving a damn about other people, as far as our non-relationship goes we’re still very much ‘under wraps’. We eat, take Shadow along the beach, then chill at mine or his. Thanks to the hotel being busier, we haven’t even been along for another pool swim.
I must still be slightly uneasy about Plum’s exposure to the local gossip factory, because not only have I brought Clemmie with me for backup today, but as she, Shadow, Arnie, Bud and I make our way up the hill to Plum’s gallery, the bag of apricot crumble slices I’m carrying is almost as big as Clemmie’s two-baby changing bag.
As I help Clemmie through the big glass doors with the double pushchair, I hold up my carrier and whisper to her, ‘This is guilt cake.’
Clemmie shushes me. ‘You have nothing to feel bad about.’ She lets a wriggling Bud out of her seat straps. ‘It looks like Plum’s out on the deck in the sun. If I take this one, can you follow with Arnie?’
As we stroll the length of the echoey gallery and burst out onto the deck Plum looks up at us from her laptop. ‘Hello, stranger. It’s ages since we saw you in town, Floss.’
I couldn’t have hoped for a better opening. ‘I’ve been waiting for the skinny-dipping scandal to die down.’
She lets out a snort. ‘You taking the hit for your mum has pushed your swimming street-cred through the roof, which is great news for the sea pool. Has Suze recovered from the shock yet?’
