Page 58 of Winter at Wishington Bay
Liar.
Nate didn’t say anything but everything about his face told me he didn’t agree. Which was fair enough, as I was indeed lying through my teeth.
‘OK. Fine, so I was staring. But not in the way you think.’
‘And what way is that?’ The tiniest flicker of enquiring eyebrow accompanied the question.
Oh crap. I was digging myself a bigger hole with every word that tumbled out of my mouth.
‘I was just…’ I gave what I hoped was a casual clear of my throat and began again. ‘I was just thinking how much more relaxed you seemed now. I mean, from when you first came here. And that I’m happy about it. For you, I mean. Obviously.’
Inner me was slapping a hand to her forehead and trying to make herself as unobtrusive as possible in a corner. Outer me had to sit here and brazen it out.
‘Obviously.’
Was that the flicker of a smile?
I shrugged. Again, as casually as possible but it felt like I had a coat hanger in my jumper so I wasn’t entirely sure I’d pulled that one off.
Nate remained where he was for a moment, those inconveniently gorgeous blue eyes still studying me, as though he was still trying to decide quite what to make of my last declaration.
‘I am,’ he said, eventually. ‘More relaxed, I mean.’
I let out a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding.
‘That’s good. Really good.’
He scooped Bryan up from where he was trying to climb up Nate’s leg and plopped him on his lap where he then walked around a few times, determined to find just the right position. As he placed his paws in a rather delicate area, Nate shifted and frowned down at the little dog.
‘It’s a good job you’re not bigger. Come on, mate.’
Bryan looked up at him, apparently considering his words, before he made one more turn and settled himself down on Nate’s lap, curling himself round like a furry Cumberland sausage.
‘Thank you,’ Nate said.
Bryan let out a long sigh in reply. Two minutes later he was snoring gently.
‘I’m not sure I can remember the last time I felt this relaxed, to be honest. Not that I noticed I was particularly stressed. I guess you get so used to a state of being that it ends up becoming the norm. It’s only when something happens, something like this, that it suddenly throws everything into relief.’ He drew a hand across the five o’clock shadow of his jawline. ‘I suppose that can be both a blessing and a curse.’
I shuffled round to face him, tucking my knees up to my chin. ‘In what way?’
He gave me a brief glance before dropping his gaze to the dog, his hand rhythmically stroking the dark, shiny fur.
‘It’s kind of made me face up to just how unhappy I was. I can’t think Serena was happy either.’ He gave a little outward huff, not quite a laugh. ‘Well, obviously she wasn’t, otherwise she wouldn’t have left, but… I don’t know. I’m not explaining this very well.’ He gave me that shy, insecure glance again.
‘It’s OK.’
‘I’m not really used to this.’
‘What?’
‘Spilling all my deepest, darkest secrets.’
I shrugged. ‘They’re not all that deep, or dark.’
‘Again… intriguing,’ he said, a glimmer of that beautiful smile playing round the corners of his mouth.
‘Not really,’ I shrugged, and waited for my nose to grow. Inside, I felt that familiar knot that only ever appeared when I thought about my old life, and the fact that I’d hidden that life from everyone in my new one. I knew at some point I was going to have to tell them about it. But every time I thought about doing it, I chickened out. I’d had too much experience of people changing their attitude towards me – not necessarily for the better – in the past and so I always talked myself out of it. Next time, I’d tell myself. Next time the opportunity arose I’d tell them. And yet here I was, eighteen months later still with no one any the wiser. And, if it hadn’t been for the fact I wasn’t a natural born liar and therefore the secret sat heavy on my conscience, I’d have happily left it like that for ever. As far as I was concerned, I wasn’t that person any more, so why should it matter? But I knew that, for friendships to be real, the truth mattered.
