We took it in turns to run back to my phone and set up the next shot. My favourite was the one where we laughingly fed each other olives. I was so busy trying to recreate Amelia’s memory, I was totally unprepared that the touch of Nick’s fingertips against my lips was scorching an entirely new one into my own head.
The final photograph, before our limbs turned blue with cold, was the one that had made this date so memorable for my sister. Almost shyly, I pulled the small velvet ring box from my bag.
‘Do you think you could…?’
With an unreadable expression, Nick took the box from me. ‘Of course.’
My legs were trembling as I left him on the blanket and raced over to my phone one last time. The laughter that had been present throughout this whole crazy photo shoot was suddenly gone. The seconds were ticking. It took five to run back to the blanket, two to position myself in front of Nick. Somewhere in the remaining three seconds he dropped down to one knee and reached for my left hand, holding it gently in his as he flipped open the box and looked up at me. I never heard the multiple clicks of the camera shutter, nor the wind, nor anything at all apart from the low throbbing beat of my heart. Seconds became hours, as I looked down at the man kneeling at my feet.
When I look back on that moment, I can no longer tell if the memory is mine or Amelia’s. But what Idoknow is that this was when I first realised I was caught somewhere between fact and fantasy… and that I was beginning to fall in love with my sister’s husband.
19
Bumping into Tom twice in one day was unusual enough for me to wonder if Mum might have something to do with these seemingly random encounters. Either she’d asked her new friend to keep an eye on me or Tom had embarked on a keep-fit regime that had him walking up and down the footpath all day. I knew which one my money was on.
As luck would have it – bad luck, that is – we bumped into Tom as we raced across the sand towards the cottages. The sky had darkened ominously, although I knew from persistent checking that rain wasn’t forecast for today. Even so, when the wind had whipped up fiercely, we hadn’t lingered on the beach, but had gathered our belongings and headed for Amelia’s home and the promise of warmth and a hot drink. I was cradling a bundle of clothes, some of them Nick’s, while he carried the picnic hamper, the blanket and my beach bag.
You have to admire an elderly man who doesn’t blink or even raise a curious eyebrow when two scantily dressed people come bounding towards him. There wasn’t even a hint of incredulity in Tom’s voice as he paused his walk and deadpanned, ‘Afternoon. Nice day for it.’
I shot him a meaningful look that he pretended not to see.
‘You’re probably wondering what we’re doing, dressed like this, Tom,’ I said, flashing a quick apologetic glance at Nick.
‘Catching pneumonia was my first guess,’ Tom said, leaning against the wooden post-and-rail fence that ran the length of the footpath. ‘Other than that, it’s none of my beeswax whatever shenanigans you’ve been getting up to on the beach.’
*
‘It’s not often you hear the words “beeswax” and “shenanigans” in the same sentence,’ Nick said with a grin as I closed Amelia’s front door a few minutes later. I’d performed quick introductions and had to admire Nick for not looking the least bit fazed as he shook the elderly fisherman’s hand, dressed only in a pair of board shorts.
‘Tom’s not like other people,’ I said by way of explanation as I wriggled back into my jumper. ‘If I read him in a book, I’d probably edit him for being too much of a cliché.’ I sighed gratefully as I pulled my socks back on. ‘But Tom’s the real deal. I like him a lot.’
Nick paused midway through zipping up his hoodie. ‘I think the feeling is mutual. I like that there’s someone close by and that you’re not here totally alone until Amelia gets home.’
‘Have you forgotten where I live? We New Yorkers are a pretty resilient bunch.’
‘I haven’t forgotten,’ Nick said carefully.
His words put a silly old grin on my face as I made our tea, and it was still there when I carried the mugs into the lounge.
Nick was standing beside the window, looking out as the wind whipped the sea into a new frenzy. Like many cottages, Amelia’s had fairly low ceilings, but I swear they must have dropped a good six inches since that morning. It wasn’t just Nick’s height that made the room seem so much smaller. It was him. His presence seemed to fill every centimetre of space. I’d never before been so hyper aware of someone the way I was of him. I’d experienced sexual attraction before, of course I had, but this was a whole other level. It was physiological, as though the atoms I was made of somehow shifted and realigned whenever I was near him.
In reaction, I took a step away from him after setting down his mug on the coffee table. I kept retreating until my back bumped into the wall on the opposite side of the room. He must have noticed my slightly bizarre behaviour, but politely chose not to mention it. What I was feeling didn’t make sense, because just fifteen minutes ago I’d been posing in his arms for the photos, wearing nothing but a skimpy bikini and a cheesy smile. But now, fully clothed, with a whole room width separating us, I felt the pull of him.
He cupped his mug with both hands and unconsciously I mimicked him. He leant back on the wall beside the window, exactly mirroring the way I was standing. A body language expert could have written an entire case study on all the things we were saying to each other without speaking a single word.
We must have found some innocuous topics of conversation to discuss, because I can’t remember there being any awkward silences between us, but then again I also can’t remember what we talked about. It felt like a mammoth underground seam had suddenly opened up, and it was growing fast.
When Nick pushed away from the wall a short while later, saying that he needed to go home and shower before evening surgery at The Willows, I felt almost relieved. I stopped myself just in time from offering him the use of my own bathroom. I’m not sure which one of us I thought couldn’t be trusted if his clothes were to come off again. But I had a horrible feeling it might be me.
*
When you’ve made up your mind to do something, something important, it’s beyond frustrating having to wait for something as mundane as the other half of the world to wake up.
A night of restless tossing and turning had left me with a new set of dark circles beneath my eyes and a curious determination that confused me with its intensity. I needed to speak to Jeff. It was a conversation that could no longer wait until I returned to New York.
Nick had given no indication that the attraction I felt for him was reciprocated.Which probably means it isn’t, intoned a gloomy voice in my head. But irrespective of what he felt for me, there were ends that needed tying before I could allow myself to take a single step forward.
I watched the minutes tick past until we reached a time that was almost acceptable to place my call. I’d chosen video calling, because it’s only right you look someone in the eye if you’re intending to say goodbye to them.