This Could Change Everything(87)

They sat there together, watched by the enigmatic seals, and Lucas told her everything. He didn’t slag off Giselle; merely explained what had happened. And when he’d finished, all he did was shake his head and say, ‘So that’s it, the whole story.’

He sounded calm, but he had to be in a state of shock.

‘How are you feeling?’ Essie ventured.

‘Mixed up. Confused. Relieved. Having a baby wasn’t something we’d planned. But for the last few weeks, thinking it was going to happen . . . Well, I’d kind of got used to the idea. Which is what’s making all of this so . . . so . . .’

‘I know.’ Essie’s breath caught in her throat as he turned his head to look directly at her. The expression on his face was completely unreadable but at the same time was managing to unleash a torrent of adrenalin that was causing her to tremble uncontrollably.

‘Everything’s changed,’ Lucas murmured. ‘In the space of an hour. My whole life . . . I thought I knew how it was going to play out, and now none of that’s going to happen.’

‘You need time to get used to it.’

But Lucas was looking at her again, intently. After a long pause, he said, ‘Do I?’

And now it was as if there were two unspoken conversations going on, inside their heads. Because Essie knew only too well how she felt about Lucas, and right now it seemed almost as if he might feel the same way about her.

Except what if he didn’t? What if she was just imagining it because she so badly wanted it to be true? And no way in the world could she take the risk of making the first move or saying the wrong thing . . . not ever, but especially not tonight . . .

‘You’re shivering,’ said Lucas, his gaze still fixed unwaveringly on her face.

‘I’m cold,’ Essie lied.

‘And you smell all minty.’

See? That wasn’t remotely romantic. She said, ‘That’ll be the toothpaste.’ Which wasn’t romantic either.

‘We should go inside.’ He rose to his feet and held out a hand to help her up, but she pretended not to see it and stood up by herself.

They headed back to the hotel and encountered the manageress still sitting behind the reception desk, busily tidying brochures.

Even though it was past midnight.

‘Seen the seals, have you?’ She flashed them a professional smile.

‘We have. Is the bar still open?’ said Lucas.

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘Right, so can I order room service?’

‘Room service? Oh Mr Brook, this isn’t the London Ritz, you know!’

Lucas managed a polite smile. ‘Could I buy a bottle of wine, then? Or just take one upstairs and replace it in the morning?’

‘Sorry, Mr Brook.’ Unmoved by the request, the manageress shook her head. ‘Time for everyone to go to bed now. Your room is up there,’ she reminded him, indicating the narrow staircase to the left. ‘And yours is over there,’ she told Essie, nodding pointedly at the other staircase on the right.

Which, if the situation had been different, might have been entertaining and an invitation to break the rules.

But under the circumstances, maybe it was just as well.

‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ Essie told Lucas.

He exhaled, then nodded. ‘Yes.’

The hotel manageress beamed at them both and brought out a fresh batch of brochures. ‘Goodnight. Sleep well. If you really do want a drink . . .’

‘Yes?’ Lucas paused halfway up his staircase.

‘There’s a kettle in your room. You can always make yourself a nice cup of tea.’





Chapter 42


At seven thirty the next morning, they checked out of the hotel and climbed into Lucas’s car.

Essie said, ‘Did you get any sleep?’

‘I did. Unexpectedly.’ He took his sunglasses out of the glove compartment and put them on to shield his eyes from the low sun. Then he pulled out of the car park and turned right, ready to begin the long journey home.

‘You don’t want to see Giselle again before we leave?’ She felt compelled to give him the option.

‘No point. It’s over. Look how stunning this place is,’ said Lucas. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll ever see it again.’

He was right; it was beautiful. The multicoloured shops and houses lining the main street glowed like sugared almonds in the early-morning sunlight. Ahead of them, a man in his late twenties emerged from the village shop with a baguette and a carton of milk, and Lucas slowed to let him cross the road. But when the customer glanced over at the car, he did a perceptible double-take and nearly dropped his baguette.

‘It’s almost as if he recognises me from Facebook or somewhere,’ Lucas murmured.

When he’d told her the full name of the new man in Giselle’s life, Essie had looked him up; unsurprisingly, there was only one Gregor McTavish living in Kinlara. For a second, all three of them stared at each other. Then Gregor turned and opened the door of his grey Peugeot. With a cheerful nod, Lucas raised his hand in acknowledgement and carried on down the road.

Essie said, ‘Were you tempted to run him over? Just for a second?’

‘I’ve had time to get over the shock now.’ Lucas broke into a crooked smile. ‘You know what? I reckon he did me a pretty big favour.’