‘Is that it?’ he asks, giving me a sidelong look. ‘Can you really not give me a better explanation? I don’t even know if he broke up with you or if you ended it.’
‘I ended it,’ I confess.
‘Why?’
How can I answer him? I sigh, softly. ‘I can’t talk about this now.’
If I reveal that we broke up because I’m in love with someone else, I’ll be laying all of my cards out on the table.
‘Yeah, I guess not,’ he says gruffly, looking away. ‘It’s not like I can give you a seven-second hug if you get upset,’ he adds, injecting humour into his tone.
I laugh. ‘Why not?’ Bolstered by how much wine I’ve had to drink, it comes out sounding a little flirty.
‘Do you want to get a stiffy against your hip?’ he asks with a grin, casting me another sideways look.
I laugh again. ‘I thought I wasn’t fanciable.’
‘I never said you weren’t fanciable.’ He remembers that conversation, too. ‘I said I didn’t fancy you.’
Too well, it seems.
My stomach falls, but before I can swim away, he catches my hand.
‘In my defence,’ he adds, pulling me back towards him, ‘you did have a boyfriend at the time.’ He gives me a pointed look and adds, ‘You also said you didn’t fancy me.’
‘I don’t feel like that any more,’ I whisper, shocking myself. What am I doing?
Unsurprisingly, that comment renders him speechless. I try to extricate my hand, but he grips me harder.
‘Bridget?’ he questions in a low voice.
‘Charlie?’ I reply, mimicking his tone. He doesn’t smile. He’s looking straight at me, deadly serious, and his eyes are glinting in the light from the fairy lights dangling in the trees on the beach.
A shiver ripples through me.
‘Are you cold?’ he asks, and I wonder if it’s an attempt to change the subject. I should be relieved.
But I’m not.
‘A little,’ I reply.
‘You want to get out?’
‘No.’ Yes! The answer is yes! I’ve had too much to drink. We both have. We’re not thinking straight.
He brings me closer to his side, so close that I can feel the heat radiating from him. My breast brushes against his bicep and he breathes in sharply, his grip on my hand becoming vice-like. Somewhere in my alcohol-riddled brain I’m aware of just how ‘unfriendly’ our stance is, but rational thought has completely deserted me.
A long, torturous moment passes when I don’t know what’s going to happen next. My head is spinning and his gaze is searing as he stares at me in the darkness, and then he turns to face me and slides both of his hands around my waist, slowly pulling me closer until my naked skin collides firmly with his. Holy shit! I can feel him down there, pressing against me. My insides turn to liquid.
Without thinking, I slide my fingers up his bare, ripped chest, over his broad shoulders, and into the hair at the nape of his neck. His lips part and an audible groan escapes, and then our mouths come together and the stars above our heads explode with dizzying brilliance.
I gasp into his kiss as his arms lock me hard against his naked, slippery body, shivers spiralling up and down my spine as his tongue strokes against mine. Is this actually happening?
His mouth suddenly slides away. His chest is heaving, but I can sense his hesitation. He meets my eyes again, apprehension beginning to cloud his features.
No. . . No. . . We can’t go back now.
I press my thumb to his brow and smooth away the lines that have formed there.
This feels too good to stop. . .
We’re obviously in agreement, because suddenly his strong arms are lifting me up, and I’m wrapping my legs around his slim waist, the salty, buoyant water helping to sustain my weight.
We both gasp against each other as he lowers me onto him. It feels so intense, so raw. Our lips stay locked together and the water laps against our skin as he begins to move.
Afterwards, I don’t want him to let me go. I stay in his arms, my legs wrapped around him and my face pressed against his neck. He kisses my collarbone.
‘We should get back,’ he whispers.
I very, very reluctantly let him go.
We wade in silence back to the beach. We didn’t bring towels and I feel exposed, but it would be crazy to ask him to turn around after what’s just happened. I pull my dress back over my wet body and he does the same with his shorts. Then we pick up our shoes and walk barefoot back to our hut, neither of us saying a word.
I want to ask him if he’ll sleep with me tonight, but I sense he might need to gather his thoughts. That was his first time since Nicki died. I only hope he doesn’t regret it in the morning.
Chapter 43
When I wake up, all is silent downstairs. I check the time on my phone: nine thirty. I bet he’s taken April for breakfast. . .
I lie there for a while, staring up at the ceiling. I can’t believe what happened last night. It was incredible, but I feel both blissfully jittery and sickeningly nervous at the thought of it. Things got out of hand so quickly. Neither of us had time to stop and think. I know how I feel about him, but how is he coping today? I really hope I haven’t messed everything up. So much for taking small Borrowers-style steps. That was more like huge, crashing, rampaging, baddies-from-The BFG ones.
I feel very unsettled as I get up and go into the bathroom, turning on the shower. I went straight to bed last night and my skin feels tight and dry from the seawater.
I’m dressed and feeling fresher by the time they return, but my nerves are still pulsing away. I watch from the window as Charlie gets April out of her pram, leaving it outside, then I go and open the door for them.
‘Hi!’ he says with surprise.
‘Hi.’
We share a long, lingering look until he breaks the eye contact.
‘I brought you some breakfast,’ he says as April toddles through the door, into the living room. I gently stroke her light-blonde curls and smile down at her as she passes. Charlie brings out a plate of fresh fruit and pastries from the pram’s under-seat basket. ‘I didn’t know if you’d want something more substantial.’
‘This is perfect, thank you.’ I take it from him, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. I try to exhale deeply to release some of the pressure on my chest as I go and sit on the sofa. ‘How are you feeling?’ I ask carefully.
‘Okay,’ he replies, slumping wearily into the armchair. He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes for a long moment.
‘You want to talk?’ I ask.
‘Not now.’ He looks at April as she takes pieces of fruit out of the fruit bowl, one by one, and puts them on the coffee table.
Oh, God. . . He regrets it. . .
April picks up a bright-pink and lime-green dragon fruit and toddles off to the bedroom with it. I look at Charlie. Now can we talk?
‘I don’t know what to say,’ he murmurs.
‘You wish it hadn’t happened?’
‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘My head’s all over the place right now.’ He sits forward in his chair, clasping his hands together between his knees. ‘This. . .’ He looks around the room. ‘This is Nicki’s place.’ He’s not talking about what’s within these circular walls: he means the resort. ‘She only died a year ago. She paid for April and me to come here. It doesn’t feel right.’ He looks at me directly. ‘It feels wrong.’
The blood drains from my face.
He shakes his head, frustrated. ‘It didn’t feel wrong. It is wrong.’
‘I understand what you’re saying.’ This is exactly what I feared and I could kick myself for not having more restraint. ‘But Charlie. . .’
‘Like I said, my head’s all over the place,’ he interrupts. ‘I need time and space to think, but I don’t have time and I definitely don’t have space.’ He casts a significant look at the bedroom, where April is still merrily babbling away.
‘I can give you time and space,’ I sa
y, leaning forward. I’d give anything to be able to take him in my arms, but I know that wouldn’t be welcome right now. ‘Why don’t you go somewhere today? I’ll look after April.’
He starts to shake his head.
‘I want to,’ I insist. ‘You could visit one of the caves. Or you could walk up to the top of the cliffs. There’s a lake up there. They do guided tours, if you want, or you could just take a map and explore.’
He ponders it. ‘What about you?’ he asks. ‘Don’t you need to go to the caves and stuff while you’re here?’
‘I can go another day,’ I reply. ‘It’s not suitable for children, anyway, so we couldn’t bring April with us. Maybe you could take my camera and click off a few photos for me?’
‘You’re sure?’ he asks. He’s not taking much persuading – he really does need to get away for a bit.
‘Absolutely.’
‘Okay.’ He stands up and flashes me a small smile before heading into his bedroom.
He hasn’t touched me once.
I’d better keep busy today so I don’t fret too much. I know exactly where my head is at. With a little time and breathing space, hopefully Charlie will see that we can make this work. We have to forge forward now. Going backwards is not an option.
I just hope he agrees with me.
‘Bridget’s going to look after you today, okay?’ Charlie says to April when he re-emerges a few minutes later with her in his arms. He’s wearing a hat and trainers, and he has a backpack slung over his shoulder with two water bottles stashed in the outside pockets.
April stretches her arms out to me and Charlie smiles as he passes her over, all of my hair follicles standing to attention as our arms brush. ‘Thank you,’ he says, meeting my eyes.
I smile at April. ‘We’re going to have fun, aren’t we?’ She smiles back at me and tugs my hair. I tickle her ribs and chastise her jokily. She’s still laughing her head off when Charlie goes out of the door.
At lunchtime, April and I wander over to the infinity pool. I order some food and we spend an hour or so splashing around in the baby area. She’s fascinated by the older children and I think she’d stay there all day if I didn’t have a sleep timetable to stick to. That thought makes me think of Kate.
I know Kate adores her niece – surely she wouldn’t let Charlie’s love life get in the way of April’s happiness? Because any family feud will affect her, if not now, then when she’s older. I just don’t believe Charlie isn’t capable of making Kate and Valerie see that we’re good for each other; that I could be good for April.
Despite all of the inner turmoil I’m feeling about Charlie, the day with his daughter is perfect. My chest keeps expanding with joy – every time April giggles, every time she kisses a baby’s face in one of her small cardboard books, every time she does something funny such as splash her face with water and jump with shock. Whatever happens with Charlie, I want to be in April’s life. Even if I’m just silly Aunty Bridget.
The thought makes my eyes prick with tears. I don’t want to be Aunty Bridget, I want to be more than that. And I really, really mean it, from the deepest depths of my heart. What a turnaround for someone who believed she didn’t want to have children.
Charlie returns when April has been down for her afternoon nap for an hour. My heart skips a beat at the sight of his handsome, but exhausted, face.
‘Okay?’ I ask him cautiously as he comes in the door.
‘Yeah.’ He nods. ‘Thank you.’
‘I was about to wake April.’ I’m pausing at the entrance to his room.
He indicates for me to lead the way. I set about opening the wooden venetian blinds while he walks over to her cot.
‘Baby,’ he says softly, leaning in to brush her arm. ‘Was everything okay today?’ he asks me as daylight begins to fill the room. There are a lot of blinds in here.
‘It was perfect,’ I reply with a smile, nodding at the cot, where April has now woken.
‘Hey,’ he says sweetly. She makes a sound of annoyance.
‘Hello,’ I say, going over to peer into her cot.
She glances from him to me, me to him, and then stretches her arms out to me.
‘Aah,’ I say with delight, bending down to lift her up. As I cuddle her to me, I turn to smile at Charlie. But he doesn’t return the warmth of my gaze. In fact, his expression is bleak.
Alain is expecting us for an early dinner at his restaurant tonight. Apparently, he wasn’t happy at breakfast when Charlie refused his offer of lining up another babysitter so we could enjoy his full five-star dining experience. Charlie said he thought two sitters in two nights was excessive, so we’d eat early and bring April with us.
I have a feeling he’s also trying to avoid a repeat of last night.
We didn’t get much of a chance to speak earlier, so I bring my camera with me and, when we’re settled, I ask him to talk me through the shots he took up on the cliff top. As the evening wears on, he seems to feel more at ease in my company.
I’m longing to be tactile with him, but, when I touch his hand, he withdraws, putting it under the table. He glances towards the restaurant, and I know he’s worried that Alain might see us and draw conclusions. I hope that’s all it is.
Later, when April’s in bed, I ask Charlie if he’d like to watch a film.
‘I think I might be too tired,’ he replies, looking at me apologetically from his position on the armchair. ‘Sorry,’ he adds when my face falls.
I’m trying so hard to return us to a happier, more normal place. Well, normal is the wrong word, but I’d do anything to relieve some of the awkwardness and tension that’s vibrating between us.
He obviously feels sorry for me, because he says, ‘Do you want to put some music on?’
He knows what will cheer me up. I smile at him and head spiritedly towards the stairs, returning with my speaker. I find the song I want and press PLAY before turning around to catch him observing me.
He realises I’ve chosen ‘Up Where We Belong’ by Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes from the moment the piano starts to play. It’s that instantly recognisable. His lips curve upwards as I raise one eyebrow at him, and then Jennifer Warnes begins to sing.
‘Who knows what tomorrow brings. . .’
He laughs under his breath as I melodramatically and earnestly lip-sync to the lyrics from my standing position in the middle of the living space. I nod at him pointedly, urging him to come in when it’s time for Joe Cocker’s lines, but he shakes his head, smirking at me, so I act out his part instead, clapping my hand to my heart and pretending to climb mountains. He looks amused, but he’s still not singing.
I sigh and throw myself into the chorus and he, in turn, throws his head back and laughs. I’m still trying to get him to join in with me – don’t leave me hanging, buddy – but he resists.
I sway back and forth when Joe Cocker takes on the second verse, sighing dreamily as though I’m deeply in love – which I am, by the way – and then I take over again when Jennifer Warnes sings her part, pretending to be solemn and serious, while also thinking, Jesus, these lyrics are really fucking appropriate, actually.
I prompt him again when it comes to the chorus. Come on, Charlie, meet me halfway here! And then he does it! He screws up his face and mimics it perfectly. I burst out laughing, so full of love for him.
As the chorus repeats, I walk over to him, no longer lip-syncing along. His eyebrows pull together when I climb onto his lap. Going backwards is not an option. . . He doesn’t stop me, and, when the song finally fades away, we’re still staring at each other. I slowly bend down and brush my lips against his. He lets me, even though I know he’s feeling torn right now. I’m straddling his lap and his body responds beneath me when we deepen our kiss.
‘Bridget. . .’ he whispers against my lips.
I try to kiss his worries away.
Chapter 44
I wake up with a start. Through a crack in my blinds, I can see that it’s still dark outside. My eyes ar
e stinging and my body is weighed down with exhaustion, so I don’t know what roused me. I turn my head to see Charlie, fast asleep in my bed beside me. My butterflies go berserk at the memory of all of the intimate things we did to each other last night.
Then I hear her: April.
I climb quickly out of bed and pull on my robe, shutting the door behind me so Charlie doesn’t wake up, before hurrying downstairs.
April starts to cry properly as I approach her cot, so I murmur soothingly. She reaches up to me. I know I should probably try to settle her in her cot like Charlie does, but I can’t resist. I pick her up and cradle her in my arms and her crying stops instantly.
It’s cold in her room – did we leave the air conditioning on? Damn, we did – obviously had other things on our minds. I walk over and switch it off while singing to her quietly. Her eyes are wide and they’re staring up at me in the darkness. I brush my finger across her cheek and smile down at her, my heart threatening to burst.
I know I shouldn’t bring her into bed with me, but her arms and legs are cold and I want to warm her up. I pull back the covers of Charlie’s bed and slide in between the cool sheets, drawing her close and humming until she falls back asleep in my arms.
That’s how Charlie finds us the next morning.
‘Hey,’ I whisper, smiling up at him sleepily. April is still out cold.
‘Hi,’ he whispers in return, but he’s not smiling. He looks deeply apprehensive.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask with alarm.
The shutters come down on his eyes. ‘We’ll talk later.’
My insides turn to ice.
‘Have you got some work you can do today?’ he asks me over breakfast. He did the thing with his hand again, drawing it away when I tried to touch him.
‘Yes, why?’
‘Alain has some time off. He’d like to spend our last day with April and me.’
‘Oh, okay.’ I understand why they’d want it to be just the three of them, but I can’t say I’m not disappointed.
‘I thought I’d see if we can get the sitter again tonight. We could eat at the restaurant in the cave.’
From his detached tone, I have the feeling this is not another date night. Seems like it’s time for our talk. . .