Page 73 of Sunsets and Happy Ever Afters

She didn’t have to wait long for a reply. She’d just finished her wine when her phone pinged: Oh, that sucks. I am sorry. Where are you?

The pub, she wrote.

Order another wine, he suggested.

No, I feel miserable. I’m going to walk home.

Tears started to well in Maya’s eyes and her throat tightened. Why did she keep meeting men who mucked her about? What was wrong with her? They all said they wanted to meet genuine women, yet none of them were genuine themselves. Maybe she really did need to take a leaf out of Selina’s book and take a step back from dating. Maybe she was trying to force something the Universe wasn’t ready to provide her with yet. She wasn’t even forty. She had time on her side. She checked she’d emptied her wine glass, then rose from the table and walked away from the pub.

She needed to get drunk, but alone in her own home. She didn’t do drowning her sorrows publicly.

As she stormed up the hill, she was mentally going through the contents of her fridge. She had no white wine chilling in there. Switching to red could be lethal. She turned around and walked down the steps, past the RNLI, hoping the shop on the marina would still be open.

By the time she arrived at the store, her tears had dried. She dreaded to think what state her face was in, though. She probably looked like a puffy-eyed monster, but who cared? She avoided eye contact with the shop assistant as she paid for her wine. She’d bought two bottles — they were on special offer — and a BIG bar of chocolate. She strode purposefully along the harbour, not caring how beautiful and majestic it looked that evening, striding past the Italian restaurant at the end, the sight of all the happy couples seated at tables for two adding salt to her wound.

Turning into the high street, she was only ten minutes away from her house when a car pulled up beside her. She carried on walking then hesitated, realising the driver might be asking for directions.

“Maya!” The driver had wound down the passenger window.

She turned. “Sam?” Although for a moment she was pleased to see him, anxiety took over. She dreaded what she looked like. She wiped her face hastily with the back of her sleeve.

“Erm… Would you like a lift?”

“I’m only ten minutes away…” She gestured with the carrier bag in her hand, making the wine bottles clink together. The last thing she wanted was for Sam to see her in this state. She couldn’t look at him properly.

“Maya, please…”

“I’m okay. I can walk.”

“I can’t drive off without giving you a lift home.” Car still running, he ran around and opened the passenger door for her. “Please, get in,” he said, softly. He gestured to the passenger seat.

She decided it would be easier to accept his offer and got in. The car was lovely and warm, smelling freshly valeted.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, concern etched across his face as he got back in the car and pulled the seatbelt over his shoulder.

“Yes, yes…” Maya really didn’t want to admit to Sam that she’d just been stood up. “Where have you been? Haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Work got stupidly hectic, then I had to fly out to Toulouse for emergency meetings. I only got back this morning.” Sam checked his mirrors and pulled the car away. He was smartly dressed, still wearing his work clothes.

“Oh, right.” The journey back only took a couple of minutes in the car. Maya sat silently, the wine cold on her lap.

Sam pulled up outside her house. “Where did you go? I thought I’d find you walking up the hill from The Golden…”

Maya frowned. “How did you know I was at The Golden Lion?” The only person she’d told was Emma at lunchtime.

“I just assumed. I’ve seen you there before.” Sam glanced down at his lap, then back at Maya, combing a hand through his dark curls. He looked so serious and nervous that a chill of anxiety crept up Maya’s back.

“What do you mean? Have you been driving round looking for me?” It didn’t make any sense. Oh God, was he going to tell her someone close to her had died? Were her kids okay? Why had he come to find her? It had to be serious. “Did Emma ask you to get me?”

“No, no…” He shook his head.

“What, then?”

“Maya, I have a confession…” He still couldn’t look her in the eye. Maya’s heart hammered inside her chest. Then, taking a deep breath, he turned to face her. “I’m Peter Pan.”

“What?” She shook her head in confusion. Some sort of relief washed over her. Her children were safe. But the news confused her. Peter Pan? Who was he talking about? She felt disorientated and dizzy. She rubbed her temple. “I don’t understand.”

“I messaged you from that account before I’d decided whether I wanted to be on there or not. And before we’d really got to know one another in person. And then we messaged and messaged, you telling me about how badly I’d treated you.” Sam rubbed his face. “You know, that time we first met?”

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