Marcus’s hand fell to his side. ‘Don’t what?’
Rowan stood, his expression closing piece by careful piece. ‘Don’t look at me like that.’
Marcus’s chest tightened. ‘Like what?’
Rowan swallowed.
‘Like I’m someone you’re making room for.’
Marcus barely breathed.
Rowan looked down at Atlas, then back at him.
‘I’m not someone you should make room for.’
Chapter eleven
With the scraper in his hand, Marcus dug it into the decades-old wallpaper. He had to do something to keep his mind off what happened in the parlour with Rowan, and right now, this was all he could think of.
The fact that it was only ten to five in the morning was of no concern. He’d barely slept a wink all night anyway. The shrill morning calls from the birds in the garden and the golden light seeping in through the cracks in the curtain twenty minutes earlier, had told him the morning was already underway and had well and truly started.
The paper was thick, but the scraper tore through it easily—too easily—at this rate he’d have the entire sitting room finished before seven. He stopped momentarily, the scraper half buried, as he considered his plan.
His plan was to take the morning off. Once again, he had a fully booked day, and all appointments were for dogs getting ready to enter the competition, which was just days away—but he just couldn't face it.
His fingers raked through his hair then dragged down his face. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let his clients down and not turn up. He’d worked so hard building up his business, dragging clients from the city to his new premises, and then doubling his client base when he’d become established in Seagull Bay.
Throwing his head back, he let out a loud sigh.
Once again, the chaotic scene from last night played out in his mind, and the words he’d bent this way and that, trying to make sense of, echoed in his ears.
‘I’m not someone you should make room for.’
Why?
Why did Rowan say that?
Did he think he was too broken to be fixed?
But what if Marcus didn’t want to fix him... What if he just wanted to understand him?
Marcus continued scraping at the old wallpaper. It was no good. He was going in circles. He picked up his mobile phone, and thumbed the screen until he found his music app, then tapped onto his favourite playlist. Right now he didn’t need to think—didn’t want to think. He’d spend the next two hours lost in decorating labour, then he’d take a cold shower, and face the day.
THE SPRING HE’D HADin his step yesterday had bounced away, now his feet felt heavy and flat as he made his way down the lane. Looking out at the shimmering horizon, not even the dark blue velvety bejewelled ocean, with its golden backdrop, could pull a smile onto Marcus’s lips.
As Marcus passed a path leading up to the cliff, there was a warm salty breeze carrying the fragrance of wildflowers. He turned his head and almost changed directions. A morning gazing out at the sea, watching passing boats and gulls hovering mid-air seemed so much more appealing than another day up to his eyeballs in appointments, with the added burden of finishing the last planning for the dog competition hanging over his head.
Ben was standing next to his cart, laden with at least five different types of fish. The strong fresh smell of them far too pungent for Marcus’s empty stomach.
Ben raised his hand in greeting as Marcus passed by. ‘Morning, Marcus. I had an idea for one of the prizes for your competition. Why don’t I offer a fish prize.’
Marcus couldn’t help the chuckle that came up his throat. He might have been feeling down, but the thought of handing a wet kipper as a prize couldn’t keep his spirits low any longer. It was just the tonic he needed to lift his mood.
He raised a hand. ‘Good morning, Ben. Thanks for the offer, mate, but we have all the prizes covered now.’ They weren’t, but he didn’t have the heart to snub Ben’s offer because it was simply—odd.
‘Righto, no worries. Glad you’ve got it sorted.’
The smile remained on Marcus’s face as he opened the door to the parlour.
