Page 16 of The Beach Cottage
“Do you really believe that?” She wanted it to be true. The adult she was now knew at some level that he was right, but the child inside couldn’t let go of the fear.
“Yes, I do.”
“You’re right. Of course you are. I have to stay positive.” She sniffled again and stepped back.
He caught her by the shoulders, his eyes ablaze. Then he raised a hand to cup the back of her neck and leaned down to kiss her. His lips coaxed hers apart, and warmth spread through her body. She forgot all about her tears and raised a hand to brush along his chiselled jawline. His lips were familiar, yet strange. Sensuous and yet like coming home all at the same time.
He took a step away from her with a pained look on his face. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that…” He ran a hand over his hair, forming a row of spikes.
She blinked, stunned for a moment by what’d happened and by his words. Surely he couldn’t believe their kiss was a mistake. It’d been everything she’d hoped for. More than she’d expected. It proved how he felt about her. What could keep them apart now?
He spun on his heel and strode away, picking up his surfboard as he went. He didn’t look back. Not once. And she felt the pain of loss return as it throbbed in her chest.
Eight
The next day, Beatrice felt much better about everything. Regardless of the fact that Aidan had run off after kissing her, he had kissed her, and she was certain it meant more to him than he had let on. The cry she’d had seemed to have cleared out a deeply buried grief that’d been festering for years within the depths of her soul.
She felt lighter and happier than she had in a long time, and she wasn’t going to let anything else get her down. It was a beautiful day, and she intended to enjoy it. Plus, there was plenty to keep her busy and to distract her from the fact that she had been dumped yet again.
She had a café to open and a party to plan, two things at which she thrived and that brought her an immense amount of joy. She threw herself into the preparations with gusto. One of the items on her to-do list she’d yet to take care of was to buy flowers for the grand opening event, and when she drove through Kellyville that morning, she’d noticed a florist shoved between a boutique dress shop and a Thai restaurant. So, she walked over from the café the first time she had a chance to place an order for native floral arrangements.
The florist was called Betsy’s Florals, and it was a quaint little shop. A large picture window with a blue-painted trim showed a sneak peek of the arrangements available and the antique furniture scattered about the place. The shop was narrow and the walls were decorated with antique mirrors and framed local art, each with a price tag hanging from the bottom.
An elderly woman with wild grey curls stood behind a bench in the back of the shop, pushing tulips into a vase filled with greenery. Half-moon glasses perched on a pert nose, and fake eyelashes made black crescents on her cheeks. She was dressed in a brightly flamboyant flowing silk kaftan, and her fingernails were painted bright purple.
Beatrice walked over to meet her with a smile. “Good morning.”
The woman looked up and grinned wide. “And to you, young lady.”
Beatrice liked her already. “I need to order some flower arrangements for a party.”
The woman set down the tulip in her hands and pushed her glasses back up her nose. “You’ve come to the right place, then.” She had an American accent and drew out her vowels in a drawl. “What were you thinking of, honey?”
“Something native.”
“We’ve got plenty of that around. I’ll show you some photos, if you like. You just point out the ones you prefer.” The woman handed her a loose-leaf binder with plastic-covered photographs of flower arrangements.
Bea flicked slowly through the pictures. “These are perfect. You make lovely arrangements.”
“Well, thank you, honey. I love doing it. I guess that’s the secret.”
“I’m Beatrice Rushton, by the way. I’ve recently moved back to the island. I used to live here a long time ago.”
“You’re Elias’s daughter, then.” The woman’s blue eyes sparkled.
“That’s right — do you know him?”
“We see each other around from time to time. He’s a lovely man.”
Bea wondered if she’d stumbled across one of her father’s girlfriends. She’d suspected he dated from time to time, but he never spoke of it openly and certainly didn’t confirm any names.
“I’m Betsy, but I’m sure you guessed that from the sign outside. Betsy Norton.”
“Pleased to meet you, Betsy.” Bea held out a hand, and Betsy shook it. Her hand was warm and her handshake firm.
“Have you lived on the island long?” Bea asked.
Betsy shrugged. “Long enough, I guess.”
