Page 57 of Starting Over in Starshine Cove
“Okay, boss. Sounds like a plan. But what will we watch?”
“Doh! We’ll watchPaddington 2, obviously – have you not been paying attention?”
He nods, stands up and stretches his arms above his head. He seems to be feeling a bit better. Maybe it’s me, or maybe it’s the simple relief of finally telling someone, I don’t know.
I stand up to join him, and he throws his arm around my shoulders. He drops a gentle kiss on top of my curls, and says: “And after the film? Will you be going home?”
I can tell that he is trying to keep his voice neutral. I suspect he doesn’t want to put any pressure on me to stay. He must have spent countless nights alone in this house, trying to think his way through his situation. Zack is the kind of man who is used to being able to control things, to find solutions and fixes, and this must have been torture for him. A health problem like this would be a nightmare for any of us, but dealing with it all alone? So much worse.
“I won’t be going home, no, Zack. I’m so sorry, but you’re stuck with me for the night.”
“What about the café?”
“What about it? The world isn’t going to explode if I don’t fire up the coffee machine in the morning. There won’t be a day of national mourning if I’m not around to provide pain au chocolat to the citizens of Starshine Cove.”
“I’m not so sure about that… but thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. The thought of another night staring at these walls and worrying was driving me mad.”
“Well, no need for that now. I can drive you mad instead.”
SEVENTEEN
I wake up the next morning in Zack’s arms, my head on his chest and my hair spilling over his shoulders. I glance up and see that he is still asleep. He looks peaceful, slumbering deeply, and it makes me smile.
We had, as per the plan, eaten some dinner – a very simple prawn and garlic linguine as I was working with a limited range of ingredients – and he had told me everything. Apparently his dad had suffered from ‘kidney problems’, but nobody had ever discussed what it was in detail – which is pretty par for the course for men of his dad’s generation, who would go to work in a coal mine with one arm missing and call it ‘just a scratch’.
After that, we’d drawn a line under it, but I could see how much of a relief it was to get it off his chest. I suspect bottling everything up had made him feel so much worse. Perhaps because of that relief, sitting together and watching yet another silly-but-uplifting movie seemed to put him in an exceptionally good mood.
When it reached bedtime, he had offered me the spare room like a gentleman, and I had refused it like a complete hussy. I’m fed up with messing around – we’ve both said how we feel, so why should we pretend any longer? It hadn’t been the sexiest ofevenings, discussing things like blood tests and biopsies, but I for one need that physical closeness, and I suspect he does too.
Even though we slept in the same bed, we didn’t actually do the deed. He was still physically worn out, and I was a little more anxious than I was allowing him to see. We cuddled, and enjoyed some rather delicious slow kisses, and basically confirmed what I’ve always suspected – that I absolutely fancy the arse off this man. He clearly feels the same, and our chemistry is off the scale. There will be plenty of time for us to explore that aspect of things, but right now everything feels fragile and delicate. Including me. Waking up in bed with a man isn’t something I expected to do ever again.
I manage to slip out of his embrace without disturbing him, and gaze down at his sleeping form. His hair is splayed on the pillow, and the golden skin of his chest is stark against the white sheets. He is absolutely gorgeous, and part of me wants to jump straight back into bed and wake him up in the most saucy way imaginable.
But that wouldn’t be right for all kinds of reasons, and instead I grab my things and go to get dressed. I hadn’t brought an overnight bag with me, and slept in one of Zack’s T-shirts. I keep it on, with the addition of a bra, because I am not of the age or physique where it’s advisable to go without one unless I want to do myself an injury.
I like wearing his T-shirt, though. It smells of him, and makes me feel like I’m still in his arms. I realise that I am smiling as I make my way downstairs and get coffee on the go. He has a fancy pod machine and I treat myself to something sinfully chocolatey, sipping it while I root in the cupboards for food. All I find is some disgustingly healthy granola, its cardboard box screaming that it’s sugar free. I might as well eat the box, I decide, putting it away.
Bear is now awake and following me around the kitchen. I have no idea what his usual routine is, but I let him outside into the garden, and find some tins of food for him in the utility room. I give him a tin and a handful of mixer, and he wolfs it down in about twenty seconds. He stares up at me pleadingly, begging for more, but I am not fooled – I know he’s on a diet.
“Sorry, boy,” I say, patting his head. “I know how you feel. Shall we go out for walkies?”
Zack hadn’t felt up to it the night before, so Bear looks insanely excited when I find his lead and hook him up. I get the house keys out of the little bowl on the table, and we are off out into the outside world. It’s almost nine in the morning, which is very late for me, and I am childishly excited by what I see of morning life in the pretty London suburb. There are people everywhere, rows of shops and cafés, boutiques, galleries and restaurants. I know it’s just a suburb, but compared to Starshine Cove it is a bustling metropolis.
Bear is obviously used to the route, and takes it all in his stride. A few people stop to stroke him and know him by name, giving me curious looks as they do. Even though it is London, there does seem to be a sense of community here that is warming. I grab some amazing-smelling pastries from a cute little bakery, and let Bear take me towards a big green space.
I let him off the lead for a gambol around, then find a wooden bench to sit on while I nibble on an apricot crown. He immediately zooms back to me and goes on alert at my feet, just in case I drop a crumb.
I gaze around, taking in the pretty surroundings, having no clue where I am. Maybe, I realise, I’m on Wimbledon Common – the place where the Wombles used to hang out in the old children’s TV show. Seeing Great Uncle Bulgaria would be exciting.
I look behind me at the bushes, but see no signs of a Womble. I know I’m just letting my mind have a few silly moments before it gets down to business. I have a lot to think about. I have decisions to make. I have consequences to balance. I have so many thoughts running around in my mind that I can’t quite grab hold of any of them. It’s like herding cats on acid.
I take some deep breaths, and get out my phone. I need to talk to someone who knows more about this stuff. And someone who knows me.
I catch Ella at home at the inn, which has pretty much the best phone reception of any building in the village. This is one of her mornings off, though the sound of a wailing baby in the background when she answers implies it’s possibly not that restful a morning off at all.
“Everything okay?” I ask straight away.
“Yes. No. Bah. Hold on a second…”
