“No, let’s stay—” says Ben.
“Doesn’t seem right to leave you behind—” I say at the same time.
And so fully agreed, we stay in with Emily. Soon, we’re set up by the fire, everyone curled up with their own blanket and tea. Somehow, it feels familiar, like we’ve done this before. They’re both relaxed, and it’s helping to put me at ease.
I can trust this, can’t I?
“How long have you known Charlie?” Ben asks Emily.
“Since forever and a day,” Emily quips. “Probably longer.”
He flashes that grin which makes me swoon like a Victorian heroine, each and every time.
“Since school,” I say when I regain something akin to my senses, or a reasonable facsimile. “At least…five years?”
“Seven.” Emily grins. “Keeping track of time isn’t your strong suit.”
“Tell me about it,” I agree.
“We bonded over suspicious school lunches.” Emily laughs, shaking her head at the memory. “Was it pasta or potato that day?”
I shudder at the memory too. “Jury’s still out, and the world’s leading scientists are still saying the results are inconclusive.”
Ben laughs. “Friends ever since?”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Luckily Emily’s stood by me through a lot of things.”
“That’s what friends do,” she says easily.
She really has been an amazing friend through my ups and downs. And, of course, with Carys.
“Emily’s my true family,” I offer to Ben. “I mean, we have our daughter. But Emily and her gran, Katherine, have always been brilliant to me.”
Ben smiles. “It’s important to have someone who has your back.”
“So, how good are you at cards?” Emily asks lightly. “I’m terrible.”
“Ah, I never play cards,” Ben says solemnly.
“Me either,” I agree.
And then it’s on.
We settle in for ferocious card games, and a couple of rounds of tea. Eventually, Ben has to go back to Swansea for the night. I promise to join him tomorrow so we can talk some more. Before he leaves, his kiss on the front step is salty with the sea air.
Something’s caught inside me, in the crash of the sea. Something out there that threatens this fragile thing between Ben and me, and our not quite finished conversation outside the cottage, leaving him waiting for an answer.
I can barely sleep, anxious for Swansea, thinking of everything I want to say to Ben. To let him know what he means to me. And more.
That I love him.
But Swansea doesn’t work out.
Chapter Fifty
“Motherfucker.” I stare at the text on my phone as I stand in the kitchen. Beside me, Emily makes tea, stirring cream into her mug and mine. Carys is down for a morning nap. Momentary sun between squalls floods the small kitchen, the whitewashed walls dazzling.
She glances over, looking concerned. “What?”
