As I’m watching the shallow water dance against the rocks, a figure emerges from the sea and strides up the small strip of sand that’s still accessible. As I blink in confusion at what this sea creature might be, I realize it is a fully dressed Ted. What on earth? Has he gone for a spontaneous swim in his clothes? He looks like some kind of plane crash survivor, with his wild hair and wet clothes clinging to him, his dark blue jeans and maroon T-shirt slick against his body. He looks up and sees me at the top of the steps, and I wave—his face looks relieved to see me and then furious.
“Where have you been?” he shouts up to me.
“Here! Sorry, I got caught up visiting my great-aunt,” I yell back down.
He charges up the rest of the stairs and is breathing heavily by the time he gets to me.
“I was worried you’d stayed too long in the cave—that you’d got stuck,” he says, glaring down at me.
I slap a hand over my mouth.
“Oh no, you didn’t go in the sea looking for me?”
“I thought you might have hurt yourself, or you couldn’t get back.”
He closes his eyes. I’m touched he was so concerned about me, but I was only fifteen minutes late—it feels like a slight overreaction.
“I didn’t even make it to the cave in the end.”
“And I tried calling you.”
“My phone died. Ted, I—” I can’t help laughing. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t get over the image of him leaping in the sea to look for me like some kind of primordial David Hasselhoff.
When he sees me laughing, he charges past me, back to the car. I hurry after him. “Ted, I’m sorry, but I was only fifteen minutes late. I didn’t know you’d launch a one-man, fully clothed rescue mission.”
He doesn’t turn around until we get to the car. Wordlessly, he opens the boot and pulls off his sopping-wet shirt. I can’t help but look at his bare chest as he wraps a towel around himself—he has an incredible physique for a middle-aged man. He’s got these defined pectoral muscles and a slim, toned stomach, tanned with a light smattering of brown hair. He catches me looking at his body, and I quickly avert my eyes. I was only staring because I’m surprised he looks like that—I didn’t have Beardy McCastaway down as the gym-bod type.
“You don’t mess around with the tides here, Laura,” Ted says tersely. “People get into trouble on this beach all the time. You have to respect the sea.”
“I do, I do respect the sea,” I say, composing my face. “Do you want to borrow some dry clothes from the suitcase?”
“I do not want to wear your stolen clothes. Besides, you seem to be wearing half of them already.” His voice is now a quiet growl.
He walks around to the driver’s seat, takes the towel from around his shoulders, and folds it into a square to sit on. Now he’s sitting there topless, his hair still dripping wet and his jeans clinging tightly to his firm thigh muscles.
“I’ll need to go back to my place to get some clothes.”
“Is your dad all right?” I ask gently, willing him not to be cross with me.
He blinks his eyes closed, exhaling slowly. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry that I was late, Ted.”
“It’s fine. You just have no idea how fast the tide comes in here—I wouldn’t want to be responsible for anything happening to you.” His voice has a serious, earnest quality.
“I really appreciate you looking out for me,” I say, reaching out to touch his arm. His skin is surprisingly warm considering he’s been in the cold water. He looks down at my fingers, and I take back my hand—conscious the gesture feels overly familiar when the man is sitting there half naked. My eyes drop to his hand, to his wedding ring.
“Your wife will be wondering why you’re flinging yourself in the sea after strange women.” I say it with wide eyes. I mean it as a joke, something to break the tension, but Ted doesn’t smile.
“No, she won’t,” he says flatly. I feel stupid then, as though I’ve implied there’s something between us and he’s telling me, in no uncertain terms, that there is not.
Chapter 12
We drive in silence. The tips of Ted’s ears have turned red, and then I hear myself start to babble, “Ted, I hope you don’t think I was being inappropriate back there—I wasn’t trying to—I mean, obviously, even if you weren’t married, you wouldn’t be—” I swallow nervously, apparently unable to finish a single sentence. “Just so long as it’s clear, that—well—”
Ted rescues me from tying myself in verbal knots.
“Laura, it’s fine. I didn’t mean it to sound like that.” He exhales again. “My wife and I are separated. I haven’t seen her in two years. That’s why I said she wouldn’t care.”
“Oh,” I say, genuinely surprised. Then without thinking, “What happened?” When Ted doesn’t answer immediately, I add, “You don’t have to tell me. Sorry, I’m being nosy.”
“It’s fine,” he says, clearing his throat. “I don’t mind telling you. She just left the house one day, said she was going to get her hair cut. When I went downstairs, I found a note, her wedding ring, and her mobile phone on the kitchen table.”
He goes quiet again, but I wait, trying not to fill the space, to allow Ted room to say more, the art of the apple peel. “She took a suitcase of clothes and that was it. Left me with the house, all our stuff from nine years together, all our friends to explain it to.”
“Just like that?” I can’t keep the surprise from my voice.
“Just like that,” he says.
“What did her note say?” I ask.
Ted flexes his hands on the steering wheel.
“It was complicated, we didn’t want the same things in the end.”
He doesn’t want to tell me the details, but I’m beginning to understand his Castaway vibe.
“Did you look for her?” I ask.
“Yes.” Ted’s eyes have turned glassy. “But she cut off all contact. Her note said she was going to Nebraska, it was this joke between us. When one of us had a bad day at work, the other would say, ‘What are you gonna do, move to Nebraska?’ It was from some show we’d watched, about Nebraska being in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t a particularly funny joke.” Ted bites his lip, rubbing his jaw with one hand.
“So, you’ve got no way of getting in touch with her, you don’t even know what country she’s in? That’s nuts.”