Page 68 of Best Mistake Ever
So fucking hot.
But there was tenderness beneath the desire too.
I still feel it now.
I want her back in my life.
I’ve been so afraid to put my trust in someone again, it’s blinded me to what I actually need. It’s Bea. She’s my perfect fit. And, despite what I said to her, I do understand now why she went along with the stupid ruse she and Dee cooked up between them. She did it because she cares deeply about her sister and that’s something I can’t ignore. I want that too, to be in her circle of warmth and love and protection.
Even though it hurt to hear she’d been pretending to be someone she wasn’t, I can’t let that stop me from taking a leap of faith and trusting her again.
Dee’s right: if I carry on pushing everyone away, I’ll never be happy.
Feeling an urgent need to sort this whole mess out as quickly as possible, I pull my mobile out of my pocket, look up Bea’s number and tap out a text, asking her to meet me here.
She doesn’t reply right away and I pace through the grounds, past the lake, feeling a swell of love for the place again nowthat my strongest memory there is of playing in the water with Bea – and of the way she kissed me, even though she knew she shouldn’t. She did it anyway. Because she couldn’t not. Just like I can’t not be with her.
I make it over to the apple orchard before my phone buzzes and I slide it out of my pocket, my heart in my mouth as I open the reply and read it.
She’s coming. Right now.
Relief floods through me and I flop onto the ground by one of the largest trees and put my head into my hands, listening to the blood rushing in my ears as my heart pumps it hard through my veins.
Thank God.
After finally electing to stop being such a dick and contact her, I’d immediately become terrified she’d decide she didn’t want anything to do with me after all and would refuse to come over. So her acceptance is extremely welcome.
Not that I know for sure that this thing between us is salvageable. She might still turn up just to tell me to sod off.
I guess I wouldn’t blame her, after the way I acted when we’d slept together.
The mere memory of it has me immediately hard and I have a visceral flash of the way she smelled, the softness of her skin under my touch and the small moans of pleasure she let out as I slid inside her.
Jeez.
I’ve been trying so hard not to think about that. How I felt before, during and after it. Just how much I wanted it to happen again. But I’ve been battling with my ego ever since and punishing myself – and her – for things that don’t matter any more.
She matters though.Wematter.
We’re good together. More than good.
I need to pull myself together before she gets here though or I’m not going to be able to speak to her without stumbling over my words in my rush to be able to touch her again.
Somehow, even in the short time I’ve known her, she’s been able to turn my world upside down. Or maybe right it. Performing with her gave me back the feeling of joy I used to experience when playing my guitar and for me, that’s massive. But – just for the moment at least – I only want to perform for her. Share the intimacy of musically connecting – with her.
I get up and pace around the orchard, my nerves humming.
I don’t know exactly what I’m going to say to her once she gets here, but I’m sure as soon as I see her, it’ll become clear. I know I want her back in my life. And hopefully, I’ll be able to persuade her to come back to Gladbrooke in some capacity, even if she’s not working here any more.
After what seems like an endless twenty more minutes, my phone finally buzzes with a text and I look at it and see she’s arrived and is asking where to find me. I drop her a pin and sit back down to wait for her to emerge through the trees.
It doesn’t take her long to make it over to where I am and my heart soars when I first hear the crunch of her feet on the hard earth, then see her walking through the orchard towards me.
Getting to my feet, I brush bits of soil off my jeans and try to adopt a relaxed-looking stance as she draws nearer.
As she gets closer, I can see her expression is one of strained worry and I feel a surge of guilt for causing her that pain. I’d thought that meeting in the trees would be romantic, but from the stiff way she’s moving, she’s clearly wondering what the hell I’ve got planned here.
So I stride towards her, making sure I put as much warmth into my smile as I can.
