I’m a widow, she’d flung between them yesterday at the marina – gosh, that had only been yesterday. And today, it was his turn:I left her.
Easing backwards to break the string pulling her closer to him, she nodded slowly. ‘That’s right. You left everything to create this life where nothing will hurt you – except strange women bleeding all over your shirt.’
He narrowed his gaze, peering up at her, and he had the audacity to look soft and inviting while he did so, with his fuzz of a moustache and expressive face. ‘Are you mocking me?’ He asked the question with half a smile.
‘I am,’ she answered around a matching smile. Lifting her chin, she continued, ‘When we think we have everything ordered and under control, that’s when life has a way of slapping us in the face.’
His smile faded. ‘Your husband.’
This time, when she lifted a hand to brush the hair out of his face, she did so swiftly, purposefully, the way she gave Cillian a quick polish at the school gate.
‘Mylife,’ she countered.
He insisted on cooking for them, so she allowed herself to be talked into sitting on the terrace in the slanting rays of the sun. She needed a breather anyway, a break from this relentless curiosity about Gabri. Curiosity perhaps wasn’t the right word.
He appeared again after five minutes with a glass of chilled white wine and a small plate of cheese. Squeezing past her chair, he lingered over the bushes to one side, moving his fingertips through the leaves and breathing in. Breaking a sprig from one bush and leaning down to pick something else, he dropped everything onto her little plate apparently carelessly, but when she looked at his handiwork, the result was rustic and perfect: soft goat’s cheese, yellow hard cheese, both drizzled with honey, a sprig of oregano and two pink clover flowers as garnish.
‘Do you need to put your foot up? Use the other chair if you do.’
She felt like telling him not to fuss, but she could still see his distant, haunted expression from earlier, when he’d told her about his ex-wife, and it stopped her. ‘It’s fine,’ she said instead.
‘Dinner won’t be long. You can practise your relaxing for a short period.’
‘I think I’ll be too busy eating cheese.’
‘Cheese is the best way to keep busy,’ he agreed solemnly, but his straight face didn’t survive the smile she sent him.
As the scent of garlic wafted through the open door to mingle with the rosemary and sage, the hint of pine in the air, she flicked through her photos, looking for a few to send to the messaging group she had with her parents. It was calledChillin’ with Cillian, although her parents hadn’t thought it was as funny as she had.
It was difficult to believe the cove had looked so perfect today, the water turquoise to blue, waves just strong enough to make that rushing sound that spoke to the soul, a hint of a breeze but no wind. The quality of the light had changed since they’d stumbled back through the forest, leaving the beach to the other family. The morning had been silver, the evening gold.
She swiped to the next one and paused, zooming in on the form of Gabri out in the water, but there wasn’t enough detail to study. He was just a gangly silhouette with broad shoulders – enough that she wouldn’t be sending that one to her parents.
Snapping a shot of her wine and cheese with the azure sea out of focus in the distance, she sent it straight away, trying not to feel guilty about the curated version of her holiday she was sending home. No restless thoughts of Cillian – and Miro. No cut on her leg. NoGabri.
Definitely no Gabri. She couldn’t begin to explain the situation in this house to her mother, especially not with that packet of condoms tucked into her suitcase that seemed to be humming with the paranormal ability to remind her continually of its existence.
When her phone rang, she jumped in alarm, proving just how not-relaxing her ruminations had been. It was a video call from Daphne.
She took a deep breath and connected the call. ‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Oh my, that last photo waslive!I can’t believe it’sjustas wonderful as you’d hoped.’
‘Yeah,’ was all she could manage in reply.
‘And where is the mistress of the house? You haven’t sent us any photos and I’m so curious.’
At least any blush on Toni’s cheeks could plausibly be from the sun. ‘She’s cooking dinner.’
Art’s face appeared at the side of the shot. ‘We’ll be right over. What are you having?’
‘I don’t know exactly, but there’s garlic involved, so I’m not sure you’d?—’
‘Lucky we’re not taking your father to Italy,’ Daphne added firmly.
‘I think dinner will be ready soon,’ Toni began, introducing the idea that this could only be a short call and trying to resist looking over her shoulder. If Gabri appeared now, she didn’t know what she’d say. ‘They eat later here. I’m not sure how Cilli will go with that. But he’s going to love the beaches. He’ll swim for hours. Want to put him on?’
‘Mum, I’ve got a wobbly tooth!’ he said before his face even appeared.
