Taking another bite of her scone, her legs felt welded to the chair as her brain performed gymnastics. Maybe dangling an olive branch would be a good idea. What would she even say? “Hello, Archie, fancy seeing you here,” as if Pretty Beach was some vast metropolis. Or perhaps she could say something about the scones, safe conversational territory. Or something along the lines of the last time I saw you before the laneway, I spent the night in your bed. She glanced at Daisy and Annabelle, who were deep in conversation. They hadn't noticed Archie walk in, or if they had, they were too polite to point him out after Darby's obvious reluctance to discuss him. Small mercies.
Archie reached the front of the queue. Her mind flip-flopped. She should definitely go over. They were adults, for goodness' sake. They'd shared meals, beds, coffees, conversations, bathrooms, T-shirts. Surely she could manage a greeting in a public café even if the whole thing had gone wrong. Even if she’d let herself dream about that thing called “love”.
Suddenly, a thought dawned on her that he might be meeting someone. What if he’d already moved on to someone else? She was more than sure he wouldn't be short of takers. What if she were going to witness some sort of romantic rendezvous right in front of her eyes?
That didn’t happen at all and Archie collected his order and turned towards the tables. For a heart-stopping moment, Darby thought he might spot her, but he headed straight for the door that led to the outside seating area outside the front windows. Through the window, she watched him settle at one of the small bistro tables, positioning himself so he could see both the ferry wharf and the comings and goings along the laneway.
If she went out, it would be the perfect time to hold out the olive branch. She could finish her scone, gather her things, and happen to walk past his table on her way out. Natural, casual, no awkwardness. It would be easy enough. Thinking aboutwhat Penny had said, she tried to muster up the courage, but instead stayed put. Something paralysed her. She changed her mind again. What sort of person ghosted someone like that? He obviously wasn’t really that nice. He’d bailed out very quickly. She’d clearly been played. Nodding, she decided there would be no olives, or branches or even any trees. She’d had enough of that game. There’d been too many of them in the past. The only person Darby Lovell was interested in playing games with was herself. That way, she knew who would win.
41
Aweek or so later, nothing had changed. At least not from Darby’s point of view. Deep down, she was very upset. Almost catastrophically so if she had allowed herself that luxury. She would not even go there. However, she’d added the whole Archie thing to a long list of her failures and left it at that. Although she was very disappointed, something made her feel resolved not to let it get her down. She’d been there too many times before. Her channel and dedication to growing both it and herself forced her to soldier on despite feeling sad inside.
Not only that, there’d been another situation with Michael. Lily’s finger had required more intervention and she’d continued to work on her channel. The weather had turned and she was now planning a humongous operation to get her garden together. Another project in her life, whereby some effort would result in a huge amount of return. Something to focus her mind on, too.
With a long list in one of her diaries, sitting at her garden table beside a very gorgeous just-blooming hyacinth, whereby every time she inhaled, she smiled, Darby had spent a good amount of time planning what to do in the courtyard. She’d already started on the bones of the garden when she’d firststarted planning how to get herself out of the hole. She’d bought a few packets of seeds, planted lots of bulbs, coaxed sweet peas into life and now had things to work with. She’d got the lawn in order, some of the beds were sorted and the overgrown shrubs had been cut down. Scanning her list, her next job was to get the front courtyard area sorted. This would involve jetwashing the once white, now more mouldy green gravel, repainting the timber table, sorting out her pots and generally having a spruce up.
With that in mind, she’d cleaned the front courtyard, tidied up by the front door, washed and cleaned the porch area and after relearning the ins and outs of the jetwash machine, was now standing by the low front wall facing the road with the jetwash going hell for leather. Talk about therapeutic. There was something immensely satisfying about watching years and years of dirt relieving itself of a block-paved courtyard.
Completely lost in a world of her own, she nearly jumped out of her skin when, just as she stopped the pressure hose, someone was standing directly in front of her by the wall. That someone just so happened to have a white box in his arms. He also just so happened to look rather gorgeous. It’s a shame the same could not be said for Darby. In her working dungarees, old stripy painting shirt and her hair shoved up in her clip, “gorgeous” would not have been a word anyone would have used to describe her. What did she care?
She couldn’t quite believe who was in front of her eyes. ‘Hi.’
Archie smiled and held out the box. ‘I thought you might like this.’
‘Sorry, what?’ Darby frowned.
‘I’m working here this afternoon and I’ve been thinking about you.’ He proffered the box again.
Darby was thrown. She didn’t know whether to take the box or not. He was clearly offering an olive branch. Did she want to take it? Taking the box, she looked at him. ‘What’s this for?’
‘To, err, I think I may have been hasty.’
Darby lifted the lid on the box. Inside, covered in chocolate cocoa powder, a tiramisu looked back at her. She knew the tiramisu was a special edition from Lottie, the woman who ran the supper clubs in Pretty Beach. It would have cost an arm and a leg. So, he thought a cake could win her back. ‘Thanks.’
‘I was wondering if…’
Darby interrupted him. ‘Thanks for the cake, but as you said, youwerevery hasty.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Look, not being funny, but I’ve had my heart broken enough times. I’ve had a big think about it, well, us, and, actually, I’m not sure if I want to go down that road again.’
‘What road?’
‘The broken heart road. It really isn’t a place I need to be. I’ve just got myself to a really good place. I don’t need to be upset. It’s just not worth it.’
‘I’m sorry I upset you.’ Archie looked awkward and as if he wasn't sure how to proceed.
Darby felt her heart hammering against her ribs. Seriously annoying when she'd spent the previous week telling herself she was over this whole situation. Over him. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to accept the tiramisu. She wasn’t entirely sure about anything.
'I really am sorry. I was having a bad day and I took it out on you. That wasn't fair. Social media is not for me and I was completely over the top.'
The voice in Darby's head, the sensible one that had kept her afloat through three failed relationships and countless disappointments, whispered sharply:Don't you dare accept thisapology. Don't you dare let him off the hook this easily.She gripped the box tighter. God, he really was gorgeous. That was half the problem, though. Men like Archie could get away with blue murder because they were all dark eyes and good cheekbones. He was standing there as if he’d never doubted his place in the world. She vowed to feel the same. 'A bad day,' she repeated, not quite managing to keep the edge out of her voice. 'Right.'
'Look, I know how that sounds, but…'
'No, Archie, I don't think youdoknow how it sounds.' Darby put the box down on the wall between them. 'It sounds like you think you can be horrible to someone and then turn up with cake and everything will be fine. Yeah, not happening. I am not a pushover, you know.’
