Fauxmance (Showmance #2)(68)

Rose: Will you ask if she’ll sign my collection the next time we come to London?

Julian: Sure.

Rose: Thanks! You’re the best friend ever. E.S. Grant! I still can’t get my head around it :-O





*



The train journey to Devon was almost three hours long. Ellen had a glow about her, and I knew it was a result of her successful book signing. She sat across from me, tapping away on her laptop

“What are you staring at?” she asked, sensing my attention.

I smirked and folded my arms. “You. You’re glowing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

“It’s true though. Own it, girlfriend.”

She laughed, her eyes on her laptop screen before they flicked to mine. Her voice was quieter now, more intimate. “If I’m glowing, then it’s all your doing.”

My only response was a beaming smile. She was transformed, and I adored the change in her. It was so satisfying to see her blossom.

“So,” I went on. “What’s the itinerary for the weekend?”

Ellen paused typing. “Um, tomorrow evening there’s a dinner for friends and family. Then the wedding’s all-day Saturday, then home on Sunday.”

“I can’t wait to meet your relatives. Do you have any embarrassing aunts or uncles I should know about?”

She thought on it a second. “My brother Cameron might be rude to you, but he’s rude to everyone so don’t take it personally. Also, my aunt June can get a little handsy with the younger men after she’s had a few gins, just FYI. I think that’s it.”

“Rude brother. Handsy aunt. Got it.”

Her light chuckle hit me right in the chest. I loved that sound.

When we arrived at her dad’s house, Ellen used her own key to let us in. It was a quaint two-storey cottage on the edge of the seaside town of Torquay, also known as the English Riviera. Her childhood home was a short walk from the beach and the July weather made the place even more picturesque.

Growing up here must’ve been starkly different to my own childhood. Mum and I rented a carousel of grotty, single bedroom flats, no garden, no view. Comparing the two was like a study in opposites. No wonder Ellen wrote so many books. This was a place that fuelled the imagination.

Ellen led me into the kitchen where her dad sat reading a newspaper. He was a bespectacled, grey-haired man, with the same kind brown eyes as his daughter.

“Els! I didn’t hear you come in,” he said, standing to pull her into a hug. “It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you so much.”

He squeezed her tight, and something about his affection for her gave me a pang in my chest. When I went to visit Mum, she never greeted me like this. If she were having a good day, she’d give a small smile, a bad day and all you got was a derisive nod, barely any eye contact.

“Dad, this is my, um...”

Seeing she was at a loss as to how to explain our relationship, I decided to take one for the team. And okay, perhaps I was also being a little opportunistic. “I’m Julian. Ellen’s new boyfriend.”

Ellen’s eyes widened, and her dad appeared surprised. She obviously hadn’t told him she was bringing a friend, certainly not a boyfriend. He gave me a quick once over then held his hand out for a shake. “Julian. It’s good to meet you. I wish I could say my daughter has told me all about you, but well, she hasn’t.” He shot her an accusing look.

I laughed cordially. “That’s quite all right. Ellen and I have only known each other for a few months, but I’m honoured she invited me this weekend. You have a lovely home.”

“Thank you,” he replied, looking back to Ellen. “Shayla is staying at the hotel tonight, and I have to run a few errands this evening, but you two get settled and order in some food.”

“Sure, Dad,” she replied, seeming a little shy after I introduced myself as her boyfriend. It needed to be done though. There was no way I was being friend-zoned for the weekend and sleeping on the couch.

Ellen led me upstairs and I grinned when I saw her childhood bedroom. The walls were pale yellow, flower printed bed sheets, and cornflower blue curtains. There weren’t any embarrassing posters of boy bands. Instead, one entire wall was lined with bookshelves, and there was a framed movie poster of A Room with a View.

Ellen saw where I was looking. “It was my favourite film when I was a teenager.”

I walked around her room. Directly out her window was the sea. She definitely had a room with a view.

She sat on the edge of the bed, chewing on her lip. “What are you thinking?”

“I was just thinking, I can’t imagine ever having a bad day living here.”

“It’s pretty peaceful.”

I shot her a cheeky wink. “Tell the truth. Did you ever go skinny-dipping on the beach when you were a teenager?”

She shook her head. “I was the most boring kid on the planet. When I went to the beach, I usually brought a book.”

I dropped down beside her. “You never went out with your friends, drank too much cider, and snogged a boy who was no good for you?”

“Nope. I spent most weekends with my dad or my brothers.”

“Well, that just won’t do,” I tutted and stood, holding out my hand to her.