Rosa headed into the kitchen, but when she returned to the garden several minutes later, Red had fallen asleep in his chair. His hands were loosely clasped together in his lap, his head was tilted to one side and a lock of dark hair had fallen across his tanned forehead. The shadows and lines on his face had lessened, leaving him looking several years younger, more like his old self. He’d always been a good-looking man.
His phone rang, making them both jump. He opened his eyes. ‘Whoops, dozed off there. Shay, hi. No, no need to come over. It’s been a long day and I’m shattered.’ When he’d switched off his mobile, he looked at Rosa. ‘Sorry, I don’t think I can manage any food. Is it OK if I just go up to bed?’
‘This is your home, you don’t have to ask. You can do anything you want.’
For a moment there was a glint of something in Red’s eye, as if he were about to make some teasing comment, before stopping and thinking better of it.
‘Thank you,’ he said instead, getting slowly to his feet. ‘I’m tired, that’s all. But I’m fine.’
Harry was up early on Wednesday morning, clattering around in the kitchen. After waiting for almost ten minutes to see if he was bringing her a mug of tea in bed, Layla made her way through the flat and found him eating a bowl of Shreddies with a tablespoon.
‘Morning.’ He greeted her with a dazzling smile.
‘Oh.’ Having found a clean mug and a tea bag, she scanned the contents of the fridge. ‘Where’s my milk?’ She’d brought a fresh carton of semi-skimmed over with her yesterday.
‘Isn’t it there? Sorry, maybe I finished it.’ He looked baffled.
‘You mean it’s all in there?’ Layla pointed to the oversized bowl in his left hand. ‘But . . . why didn’t you use your soya milk?’
He shrugged. ‘I ran out.’
‘So what am I going to do?’
‘I don’t know. Drink it black?’
‘But . . . I don’t drink it black. That’s why I brought a carton of milk over.’
‘Sorry, babe.’ He put the bowl down and gave her a kiss.
‘You could run down to the Co-op and pick up some more,’ said Layla.
‘Haven’t got time. I need to be out of here by eight thirty. And so do you,’ he reminded her.
She ran the cold tap and glugged down a glass of water instead, facing the sink.
‘Oh dear, are you cross with me now? I’ll buy a carton of milk for you next time. I know, I’m a bad boyfriend.’ Harry gave her his most beguiling smile. ‘But I don’t mean to be, and I do l—’ He stopped abruptly and closed his eyes. ‘No, I mustn’t say that.’
‘Say what?’ Her heart flipped.
‘Nothing. How can I say it when I don’t even deserve you?’ He heaved a regretful sigh. ‘I really am sorry about the milk. Do you hate me now? Are you going to dump me? Please don’t dump me.’ His tone was playful as he moved closer and inhaled. ‘God, you smell amazing.’
How could she resist him? ‘OK, I won’t dump you. This time.’ Layla said it teasingly; it might only be six days since they’d first met, but their time together had passed in a whirlwind of excitement and emotion.
He laughed. ‘Thank goodness. Will I see you on Friday?’
‘Not tomorrow?’
‘Can’t. I’ve got a new client booked in.’ His arms were around her now. ‘I’d rather be with you, though.’
‘Well how about coming over to my place on Friday? You haven’t met Didi yet; we could meet up with her and Aaron.’
‘Look, I’m sure your friends are great,’ said Harry, ‘but I have to spend my days making small talk with clients. When I’m not working, I’d rather just relax. You and me alone together, here in my flat. I’m sorry if that’s too boring for you, but it’s my idea of heaven.’
Against her better judgement, Layla felt herself melting, because when someone so beautiful to look at was saying those words, it was impossible to resist. He was stroking her hair now, running a thumb along the line of her collarbone, and the look in his eyes was just—
‘Shit, is that the time? We need to get a move on.’ He gave her a brief kiss, filled with longing and regret, then pulled away. ‘Time to go.’
She’d pre-booked for Will to collect her at 8.45, but when she left the flat at 8.30, the taxi was already parked across the street and he was sitting on one of the benches at the water’s edge, enjoying the morning sunshine. Layla watched as he tore small pieces of bread from his sandwich and threw them to the ducks, then took a sip of something hot from a takeaway cup.
When he saw her, he jumped to his feet and tossed the rest of the sandwich into the river.
‘Oh you didn’t need to do that.’ She blurted the words out in protest. ‘Sit back down and finish your coffee. I’m early.’
‘Only if you’re sure. I just got back from taking a family up to Heathrow.’ He took a gulp of his drink and fanned his mouth. ‘Sorry, bit hot.’
‘Coffee?’
‘Tea.’
Layla’s mouth watered.
‘Actually, I’ll leave it,’ said Will. ‘I’ve had enough for now.’
‘Don’t throw it away,’ she yelped as he leaned towards the bin.
He looked at her. ‘Why not?’
‘It’s a waste! I mean . . .’
‘Do you want it?’
‘I wouldn’t mind.’
‘Didn’t he make you a cup of tea this morning?’
‘We ran out of milk.’ We.
‘Here, help yourself. It’s got sugar in it, can you cope with that?’
‘Perfect.’ For years she’d tried so hard to get used to tea without, but it was never as nice. Not caring that it was hot, she glugged it down. God, it was like nectar. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘Better than perfect. Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘Can I just . . . sorry, you’ve got crumbs . . .’ She brushed them off the collar of his white shirt where he couldn’t see them.
‘Thanks. Let’s get you home now, shall we? He gathered up the iPad that had been lying on the bench next to him.
‘You’re always tapping away on that thing,’ said Layla. ‘I’d love to know what it is you’re doing.’
Will smiled, took the empty cardboard cup from her and dropped it into the recycling bin next to the bench. ‘Nothing interesting. Come on, let’s go.’
Chapter 12
‘Now, darling, just tell me this,’ Didi’s mother had said over the phone the other evening from her seafront apartment in Marbella. ‘When you picture yourself in your wedding dress, what exactly do you see?’
Didi marvelled at the way her mum’s mind worked. She said patiently, ‘I don’t see anything. I haven’t found it yet.’
‘Well we can’t have you walking up the aisle stark naked, can we! When’s your next day off?’
‘Thursday. Why?’ A split second later, Didi realised she’d fallen into a trap.
‘Right, I’m booking my flight over. I’ll see you on Thursday morning and we’ll make a start.’