Page 86 of Coming Home to Wishington Bay
I shook my head. ‘No, I need to do it by myself. I know that probably doesn’t make any sense. That I’m avoiding it but also I don’t want anyone else to do it?’
‘No. I get that. You want that time alone. There’s a lot of personal stuff in there, I’m sure.’
‘Exactly.’ Honestly. This man just kept getting better and it was really inconvenient. Having this pretend boyfriend turn into the perfect boyfriend just wasn’t going to work for me.
‘You fancy that walk around the village today, or do you have stuff on?’
‘No, I don’t. That sounds lovely.’
‘Great. I have a favour to ask though.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Mum and Dad want to get together, all of us, for dinner tonight. I’ve told them that I didn’t know what plans you might have so if you don’t want to come, that’s totally fine.’
‘I’d be more than happy to come, as long as you don’t mind. I had a lovely time with you all before. They really are nice people.’
‘I don’t mind at all,’ Gabe replied, his wide, beautiful smile confirming it, which sent a little ripple of pleasure through my body.
‘Right. Just let me lock up and I’ll be ready to go.’
Five minutes later, basket in hand, sunhat on head, I was ready to go.
‘A basket? Really?’ Gabe said, trying to swallow a smile.
‘Don’t think I don’t see that smile. And yes. They’re actually very practical. They don’t tip over when you put them down, they’re not made of plastic and all your stuff doesn’t get squashed together.’
‘OK.’
‘If you’re embarrassed, you can stay here. Bryan and I can go on our own as he’s more than happy with my accessory choices, aren’t you, puppy?’ I said, kneeling down and nuzzling him as I took the lead off Gabe and dropped it in the basket before hooking it over my arm.
‘That’s because you buy him fancy handmade biscuits. You’re making me look bad, you know.’
‘Are you saying he only loves me for what I give him?’ I made an astonished ‘o’ with my mouth. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say. He’s a naughty man, isn’t he, Bryan? You love me anyway, don’t you?’
Bryan responded by snuggling against me, his little tail wagging his whole body.
‘See?’ I asked, pulling one of the handmade treats in question out of the pocket of my sundress and handing it to the dog.
‘No,’ he said, laughing, ‘he could smell those treats a mile off. You’ve just been manipulated by a tiny sausage dog who thinks he’s cute.’
‘He is cute, and you know it. You wouldn’t be without him. And even if I have, I don’t care. Males far less cute than him have manipulated me for far less affection so I’ll take what I can get, thanks.’
‘Fine. I’m just being all macho and put out by the fact my dog loves you better than me now.’
I laughed at the pouting face he’d pulled. ‘Firstly, that’s not true and you know it, and secondly that pout is so not macho.’
He couldn’t hold it anyway and as we walked along the beach, Gabe held his shoes in one hand as mine rested on a cotton bag in the basket. He took my free hand, giving me a quick glance the moment he did it, as if to check it was OK.
‘Sorry. Sometimes it just feels …’
‘Natural?’
‘Yes,’ he said, the smile lighting his face. ‘I sort of forget that this isn’t real occasionally.’
‘I know.’
‘Although the fact I’m lying in my own bed alone every night soon reminds me.’
