‘You think you’ll stay then?’ I ask, keeping my tone neutral. I am a little scared by how much I want him to say yes. I have no claim on this man, no right to expect anything from him, no justification at all for trying to influence him. I desperately want him to stay, but it has to be his decision alone.
‘For now, yes. For now, I’m going nowhere. I’ll be here for as long as Miranda needs me. For as long as you need me. Because you do know, don’t you, that you’re part of the deal for me?’
I shake my head. I did not know that, and I don’t even really understand what he means by it. My relief at the fact that he is staying has clouded my thought processing ability, which was never that great to start with. I’m more of a feeler than a thinker.
‘No, sorry. I’m being dense, but what deal?’
‘The deal that says we’re there for each other. The deal we seemed to fall into on that very first day, without even realising it. The deal that makes us such good friends.’
Friends. Yes, I tell myself. That’s what we are. We are good friends. Nothing more than that, no matter what my stupid hormones are screaming at me. He’s watching me intently, and when he places a hand on the side of my face, it feels safe, and natural, and absolutely sublime. I lean into his palm, and sigh.
‘Friends,’ I repeat quietly.
‘Friends,’ he replies, his voice a low rumble, his touch like fire as his hands go to my shoulders. ‘Until maybe you’re ready for more. Until you’re ready to follow up on all that flirting.’
I gaze up at him, mesmerised. His face is serious, and I see that he means every word. ‘Guy, that’s… that’s not sensible, is it? I’m pregnant.’
‘I know you are,’ he says. ‘And so what? It doesn’t make me want to run for the hills.’
‘Maybe it should,’ I mutter, feeling hot and bothered and unsettled. He’s too close and he’s too handsome and he’s too everything. ‘Even if I wasn’t pregnant, Guy, I’m a disaster zone. I should come with some kind of government health warning.’
‘As opposed to me?’ he asks, smiling. ‘With my track record of successful relationships? I’m a middle-aged man who lives in a tent, Suzie. I have a daughter I barely know, and I’ve spent years on the run from my own life. I’m not exactly free of complications myself. But, look, this wasn’t meant to be a sales pitch. I didn’t plan to say any of this, and there is zero pressure here. Anyway, it’s your fault for showing me these caves.’
He takes a few steps away from me, and I feel the loss of him. I shake my head, trying to reset, trying to make sense of all of this. It’s easier to do when he’s not touching me.
‘You’re right,’ I reply. ‘I apologise on behalf of the Starshine Cove caves. We should leave. We should probably show our faces back at the party.’
We should probably also run while we still can, escape this spell, this love charm, this magic. It’s not real. It can’t be real.
His eyes linger on mine for a moment longer, and I can see there is more he wants to say. But he simply nods, shuts it down, and heads back outside. Into the starlight and the silvery glow of the sea, the gentle hiss of the waves, the warm night air. It all looks so beautiful, like a scene from a fairy tale. Years ago, my mum asked me what I saw when I looked out at this view. I toldher I saw a place I wanted to leave but was also scared to leave. Now, I suspect it’s the complete opposite – I see a place where I want to stay, and I’m almost as afraid of that.
We stroll together back to the green, back to the celebration. The band is playing ‘Kiss from a Rose’by Seal, and there is some good old-fashioned slow dancing going on. Cally and Archie are snuggled together, as are Jake and Ella, with little Kitty wedged between them, fighting sleep. My dad is doing a waltz with Meg standing on his feet, and it makes me smile. He always used to do that with us – dance us around the house doing a tango and making us laugh. His poor toes must have been black and blue.
Guy takes my hand and leads me towards the crowd. ‘I promised Miranda I’d look after Evan later,’ he tells me. ‘But for now, I’m all yours. Don’t overthink anything I said earlier. Don’t panic. Just… dance.’
‘I don’t really know how to dance,’ I say. ‘Not this kind anyway.’
‘Neither do I,’ he replies, leading me towards the stage. ‘But I’m sure we can figure it out together. One foot in front of the other, right?’
He takes me in his arms, and I rest my face against his chest, listening to the thud of his heart. He holds me tight, our bodies melded together, and we sway in time to the music.
Don’t panic, I tell myself. Just enjoy.
FIFTEEN
The day after the party is actually a fun one for me. Literally every other person I come across in Starshine Cove has a hangover, to a varying degree. I suspected that might be the case, and I’m enjoying reaping the benefits of my enforced sobriety.
My dad is only slightly the worse for wear, mainly because he was tucked up in bed by about ten pm. The rest of the village continued to party without the guest of honour though, and there were still sounds of laughter and chatter coming from the green in the early hours of the morning.
Connie opens the café considerably later than usual, assisted by her fellow zombies, Sophie and Sam. They all look a little green around the gills when I pop in, and Connie has even turned the radio off. This is unheard of. She is always to be found in here singing along, sometimes even bopping. Not today though, that’s for sure.
‘It’s quiet in here,’ I tell her, glancing around. Only two tables are occupied, both by families with young children – so young they have a brutal tendency to wake their parents up at the crack of dawn every day. ‘Why isn’t there music? There’s usually music!’
‘There was music,’ Connie tells me, rubbing her eyes and yawning. ‘But it was hurting my brain. Everything hurts my brain. I think I might be dying. Farewell, cruel world…’
She does a dramatic sigh and lays her head down on the counter. Her curls are tangled and knotted, and she looks like a Scarecrow Barbie. I laugh and feel like doing a little jig around her almost comatose form.
‘What time were you up until?’ I ask her. ‘And can I please get a cappuccino?’
