Page 43 of A Cornish Love Story
She looked sideways at me. ‘No, I mean Ethan. He’s invited to dinner and then – poof! Something more important comes up. Those little instances of unreliability will get more frequent if you’re not careful.’
‘His sister’s in trouble.’ Defensiveness made me grip the cloth too tightly. ‘I’ve told you about Sarah. She’s miserable.’
‘Just make sure he doesn’t take you for granted. I know what that’s like, and I’m living proof that it doesn’t end well. Left high and dry with a five-year-old and barely enough to pay the rent.’
‘I know,’ I said quietly, backing down for the second time in five minutes. That five-year-old was me, and I’d heard it so often – how hard her life had been once my dad left. I never got stories about the two of us hanging out together, Mum and daughter havingfun without the need for anyone else, or about how her love for me sustained her through the difficult times. But maybe I’d been spending too much time rereading the Cornish Sands series, where everything was romanticized, with lessons learned and tragedies weathered.
‘You can’t have a proper relationship if you’re hiding things from each other,’ Mum said as she slid the pie into the oven. Before, my stomach had been rumbling with hunger, but now I didn’t want anything.
‘Ethan tells me everything,’ I said, and then, because I couldn’t hold it in, I added, ‘Unlikesomepeople.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Mum turned to face me. She looked exhausted. She’d done too much, and the evening had gone to shit anyway.
‘Nothing.’ Neither of us had the energy for an argument. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
She sighed. ‘I really like Ethan, love, but you’re both so young, and I don’t want you making the mistakes I did.’
‘Ethan’s not a mistake.’
‘I know that, but things like this …’ She trailed off. ‘When he starts over-promising, telling you he’ll make up for it, that it’ll never happen again, that’s when you should worry. He might believe what he’s telling you, but that doesn’t meanyoushould.’
‘He’s not like Dad. His sister’s in trouble, and he’s looking out for her.’ The thought of my gorgeous, thoughtful boyfriend being some kind of lying womanizer was so ridiculous I wanted to laugh. ‘Why don’tyou go and sit down? I’ll make you a fresh tea, put away the last bits of shopping.’
‘Thanks, love.’ Mum gave me a watery smile. ‘The pie needs forty minutes, and I thought we could have some broccoli with it.’
‘OK.’ I returned her smile, my jaw aching with tension.
She squeezed my shoulder as she passed, and I looked around the bomb-site kitchen, at everything there was still to do. It would have been fun with Ethan at my side, a room full of laughter instead of just the hum of the oven.
Dinner was quiet and stilted. I knew Mum wanted to say more about Ethan, because she was deeply paranoid when it came to untrustworthy men, and her protectiveness of me could be stifling. But she kept quiet, and I didn’t mention the weed because I didn’t know how to approach it.
It wasn’t until I’d crawled into bed, the sheets still smelling of him, that Ethan called me.
I picked up immediately. ‘Hey. Are you OK? How’s Sarah?’
‘Not great.’ He sounded tired, and my heart squeezed. ‘But I managed to convince Mr Murray that the broken window was an accident, and we gave him an account so he can claim it on the insurance.’
‘Sarah did it on purpose?’
‘I don’t know whatshe was thinking, but Mum and Dad are clueless, and that’s the important thing.’ I didn’t tell him that I thought they should know,because if she got into serious trouble she might realize how much she was hurting other people as well as herself. ‘I’m sorry I had to leave. How was dinner?’
‘The mash was delicious. I’m sad you missed it: we missed you, too.’
‘Next time,’ he said. ‘I promise I won’t leave again. I could cook you both something, if you like?’
‘Really? You cook? What are your favourite things to make?’
As we talked I rolled onto my side, pulling the duvet up to my ear so we were in a cocoon, just me and him. Connor the turtle had a new place on my desk, and I snuggled into the pillow, listening to Ethan talk. I tried not to think about what Mum had said, tried not to let her past disappointments affect how I felt about him. Sarah was his sister, his family, and his sense of loyalty was one of the things I loved about him. He had enough room in his heart for both of us. I wouldn’t be with him if I didn’t believe that was the truth.
Chapter Eighteen
Now
Iwas still breathing hard when I reached the French windows in the living room. Our empty glasses and the plate of canapés sat on the table, a still life from a decadent afternoon, if you took a snapshot without any context.
I rubbed my sternum, trying to calm down. I had kissed Ethan, and he hadn’t run in the opposite direction; he had kissed me back. Now I had renewed that thirteen-year-old memory, the sensation of his lips on mine no longer a distant pleasure point, like the brush of a petal against my skin. It had been so hot, so incredible – even better than when we were teenagers – and that realization flashed brightly, trying to override the rational side of my brain that reminded me he was a stranger, that he always had a new womanon his arm, that he wasn’t the warm, committed person he’d been when we were together. It scoffed at my worry he was responsible for shutting the house down with us inside.
There was another loud rumble of thunder and I pressed my hands against the Smart glass, wishing I could see Alperwick nestled in the valley, besieged by rain. I wondered how Spence was getting on. She hated storms, something about getting stuck out in one as a child, and I hoped Denise was there, babbling about her grandchildren and taking her mind off it.
