Page 84 of You, As You Are

They both grinned secret grins with unspoken meanings and swayed their way past Iain into the throng on the dance floor.

He sat back down in the space he hadn’t vacated except for the bar or bathroom all night, only Maisie left across from him. “Where’s your other friend?”

“Flirting with some guy at the bar,” she said, eyeing the emptiness of her glass except for a mint leaf before shifting her attention to him.

It was the first moment they’d had alone together since the walk here, and Maisie didn’t beat around the bush. “What were you two really talking about earlier?”

Iain exhaled and gave little thought to lying. “Your friend was giving me the third degree.”

“Oh.” Maisie’s cheeks flushed. “Yeah, Bash is quite protective of us all.”

“He thinks I’m going to break your heart.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.” Iain’s fist found itself wanting to meet the men who had hurt her before. “But maybe I’ll be the one to break yours,” she said smoothly, toying with her drink.

Those were the wrong words. They flipped a switch inside Iain’s veins that made his fingers curl into his palm. No woman was going to get to break his heart again. How could they when in eighteen months he hadn’t put its hundreds of shattered pieces back together?

His eyes were dead set on hers, his heart aching as it punched on his ribs. “There’s not enough solder in Wales that could fix what mine has been through.”

“You mean with your ex?”

Iain shook his head slowly. “Not just that.”

“Then what?” Maisie pressed.

Things that he didn’t want to darken her sunshine world with.

He leaned over his knees and clasped his hands, defensiveness marring his tone. “This isn’treal, Daffy. We don’t have to spill our darkest secrets.”

He didn’t know what he was frustrated with. With her. With himself. With the warm feelings she brought out in him that he wanted to shove back down with his boot. She hadn’t been aware of what she’d reminded him of, that walking away from his future wife wasn’t the thing to have broken him first.

He couldn’t have her.

He wouldn’t let his pathetic-ness stand in the way of what a woman wanted again.

Maisie stood before he could blink. “Thedatingmight not be real,” she announced, “but I promised that I would be your friend. I’m sorry that that’s what I’m trying to do.”

She turned and moved into the crowd, leaving Iain with a whiplash he’d only felt once before.

The last time the woman he cared for strutted out of his life.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

MAISIE

The light weightof hertaid’spainting of this very beach sat in her lap, a cool breeze swirling through her hair. Maisie didn’t know why she’d found her way here this evening, but she hadn’t been able to focus since lunchtime, dragging herself through work when she should’ve taken the already wasted time to do nothing and rest. She would ratherthatthan produce work for her clients that was under par.

But had she listened to her own advice?No.

The postcard painting she kept upon her mantlepiece with hertaid’swords had been her guide to the seafront tonight after FaceTiming half her family with no news to give on Vera’s secrecy – the woman was like a vault locked up tight.

If you ever miss home, find your way to the water.The man was onto something with his advice twenty years before his time.

She was alone out here in the fading light. A few locals walked their dogs along the beach since it was the off-season for tourists, others headed up to the seafront pubs and the bar for happy hour. Her legs dangled over the edge of the sea defence wall that stretched all alongMarine Terrace –the promenade – her toes too far from the sand to swish the grains back and forth. This was one of only a couple of sections of the north beach notguarded by white railings, but rather a lot drier than sitting on one of the wooden steps down to the pebbles and sand. On any other day, these unobstructed views might have given her a little clarity to the thoughts that swirled in her mind ever since she’d returned from Manchester.

A heaviness sat in her chest that Maisie couldn’t put a name to.Loneliness?Though some would argue how she could be lonely when her grandma, who she loved more than anything, and all of Vera’s hiking friends were within a one-mile radius of where she lay her head at night?

No, it felt more like regret, only without a reason why.

---