Page 31 of Coming Home to Wishington Bay
‘I know that. I’m just not interested in looking at the moment.’
She gave another snort.
‘What?’
‘You like him.’
‘I do like him. He’s a nice guy. Well, from what I’ve seen. And he’s kind to animals, which is good. But then I thought Paul was a nice guy so we know how good my judgement is.’
‘Gabe is nothing like Paul. Paul doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as someone like him.’
I turned to her. ‘Are you sure you’ve not got a little crush on him yourself?’
She smiled, rubbing her bump. ‘No. Definitely not. We’ve just sort of … adopted him since Gigi introduced us. He was a right mess when she died, I have to tell you. I think he loved her as much as his own family, and I know she did him. Does that bother you?’ Carrie paused, serious for a moment.
‘No, of course not. I’m very grateful to him for the happiness he clearly brought her. She was always going on about him, and it was lovely to know there was someone right next door if she ever needed anything, as well as you two.’
‘Yes, that’s how we felt too. And while I may be married and I may be pregnant, I’m not blind. Gabe is lovely. But he’s also lovely on the inside too.’
‘I hate to point out the obvious but I don’t think there’s any maybe about whether you’re pregnant.’
Carrie rubbed her bump and gave a shrug of acceptance.
Stopping at the range I’d decided on for the guest room, I checked the ticks on my chart and began loading tins into the trolley. ‘So, what’s that all about anyway? Gabe being so lovely and yet so single? I mean, you said yourself that women throw themselves at him, and he works in a hospital that’s swarming with female medical and admin staff. Are we all barking up the wrong tree here? I know he said he was dating a psychiatrist for a while, who is apparently female. Did you know he told me I should see her?’ I said, rolling my eyes.
‘I did know, yes. Personally, I think it could be a good idea but there’s no point you going until you feel ready otherwise you’ll just stubbornly sit there and refuse to say a word.’
‘Why is everyone calling me stubborn this week?’ I asked, loading the last tin in.
‘Because you most certainly can be. As can your brother. It’s a trait, and not always a bad one when it’s applied properly.’
I frowned and began pushing the trolley towards the checkout.
‘But as for Gabe, definitely not gay. Definitely.’
‘So why isn’t there a trail of women leading from his house past my front door?’
‘Would you prefer that?’
‘God no! There’s an adjoining wall, not to mention the open windows. That’d be just what I need if he started dating a screamer.’
Carrie grinned, leaning on the handle of the trolley as we joined the queue. ‘I think he wants more than that. As unfashionable as it can be for men to mention, or even admit to, I think he’s looking for The One. But, from what he’s said, he just doesn’t really have a lot of time to devote to dating. He works long hours, and often does extra shifts, and the time he does get off he likes to go surfing or just chill with his dog. I guess if he met someone who liked to surf, that might help a bit.’
That was me out then. Not that I was ever ‘in’.
‘He’s talked about his parents and it sounds like they have a really strong, happy marriage. I think that’s what he wants too. He did date when he started here – goodness knows there were plenty of offers, and then, as you say, he did see that psychiatrist for a bit, but since they broke up, I’ve seen him with one or two but no one for ages now.’
‘Well, I’m sure he’ll find someone. It’s not like he doesn’t have much going for him, is it?’
‘What, you mean as a “hot doctor”?’
I gave her a hearty, very false, laugh and began hefting up the tins so that the young lad on the checkout could scan them.
* * *
Shattered, I sat back as I dropped the paintbrush back in the jar, the last stroke in the guest room finally done. The new carpet was arriving tomorrow and I’d explained that there was no way I could actually empty the room. I’d ordered the carpet from a local business and they’d happily assured me that it was no problem for them to move some furniture as and where it needed to go. I felt it only fair to let them know that this was not flimsy flat-pack stuff, and the lady on the other end of the phone had laughed and promised to send two of her burliest chaps.
Propped up on the sofa, I looked out through the patio doors and watched the sun drifting slowly into the sea. The room darkened around me but I hesitated to turn on the lights, and just embraced the peace, broken only by the soft sound of a gentle sea, brushing against the sand. And then I realised. The two weeks without my phone that Ned had made me promise to stick to had passed. A couple of days ago in fact. I was now free to get my phone, and all the accompanying apps and contacts, back. So why didn’t I want to?
