Page 46 of Commitment Issues
No.
I can’t let my thoughts drift down that road. Older, urbane, sophisticated, everything I want in a man. It’s also everything that once broke my heart so completely I’d feared it’d never mend again. It has, but it’s still fragile.
I’m suddenly restless. Many in the wedding party, like Elliot, are dozing in the sun. Others have expensive-looking headphones clamped to their ears, including Gavin, sprawled out and easy-looking on one of the bench seats. But he’s not easy. His eyes are closed, but his face is stiff and his fingers are beating out a staccato rhythm on his thigh. I’d meant the show with the suncream to be two fingers up to him, but as soon as Elliot laid his hands on me, I’d forgotten Gavin even existed.
My gaze shifts to Andrew and Marcus, sprawled out on another of the benches, Andrew a big furry cushion for Marcus’ much smaller frame. Both have their eyes closed and one of Andrew’s arms lies loose and relaxed on Marcus’ stomach, his thumb stroking an exposed band of Marcus’ skin. They’re such an odd looking couple it’s almost freaky, but as they lie curled up together, I see contentment and happiness on their faces, and a little spear of jealousy shoots through me.
I look more closely at the other men scattered around on the deck. Everybody’s a couple, with the exception of Gavin. None of it fake, none of it contrived, none of it for show, as hands unthinkingly caress an arm or thigh, or trail fingers along a cheek. Shared smiles and light kisses, the telltale signs of people who fit together like jigsaw pieces. I flex my shoulders. Coupledom, that’s for other people, not for me. My boyfriends have never lasted more than a handful of dates. Except for one, but I shake my head, to shakehimout of it.
Padding over to the steps leading to the lower deck, I make my way to the back of the yacht. I don’t see anybody, not even a sign of the small crew I know are onboard. Finding a shady spot, I gaze out at the impossibly blue sea and the thin strip of coast that’s far, far away, before letting my eyes drop to a close.
I jump out of my skin when a heavy hand lands on my shoulder.
What…?
I blink hard, not at the empty sea but at a small sandy bay that looks like it should be a centre spread from a luxury holiday brochure.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Elliot says, smiling down at me. “But we’re here. You’ve time for a swim before lunch, if you want.”
Swim, lunch… His words don’t seem to make sense because all I can make sense of is his warm hand on my shoulder.
“Er, yes.” I stagger up to standing.
“Are you okay?” he asks, concern creasing his brow. “You were fast asleep.”
My skin’s very warm; at some point the shade had melted away.
“I—”
My heart all but leaps out of my chest when Elliot pushes my hair aside and rests a hand on my brow.
“You’re hot,” he says, his frown deepening.
I snort, I can’t help it. Elliot rolls his eyes but his lips tug up in a smile. “You know what I mean. But you are. I mean, your forehead…”
Two red patches colour his cheekbones. I know exactly what he means, but I’m kind of enjoying seeing him flustered, because hadn’t he flustered me, earlier? I rather like turning the tables on him, yet I suppose I should put him out of his misery but the yacht has other ideas as it gives a sudden sharp lurch, throwing me against Elliot.
His arms encircle me, holding me tight. Our bodies are warm and slick with suncream, and I breathe in deep, the aroma making me dizzy. The vaguely chemical smell from the suncream, the tang of salt on the breeze, the ghost of his sharp cologne and underscoring it all, the aroma that’s the man himself.
I melt into him, just as I had in the cottage. And like then, I don’t pull away. He’s so close, nothing more than a heartbeat away, and I ache to kiss those full and pouty lips, to take possession of his mouth, to dive deep and dark and taste his warm wetness. His eyes darken beneath heavy lids, and my lips part as his arms grip me harder, and he pulls me in closer.
“I think there’s one couple who need to jump into the sea and cool off.”
We jolt away from each other, as though we’ve been shocked by an electric bolt. The same guys we’d briefly shared the breakfast table with are making their way towards us, followed by Andrew, who raises his brows in a kind of wry amusement. Behind him, I can hear Marcus, chivvying everybody along, but he’s hidden by Andrew’s bulk.
“The dinghy can take us all over to the shore in one go, but it’ll be a crush,” Marcus calls out, as he squeezes around his fiancé. “The crew will set up lunch on the beach in around an hour’s time. Come on everybody, follow me.” Marcus clambers down a ladder into the dinghy.
“Better do as he says,” Elliot mutters, and I nod. I shoot him a quick glance. His cheeks are still red, and I don’t catch his eye.
Marcus is right about it being a crush. Somehow Elliot and I get separated and I find myself squashed up against Andrew and one half of a couple who I’ve noticed just seem to sit and hold hands in silence.
A couple or so minutes later, we reach the beach and I jump out, the warm Mediterranean swirling around my ankles. It’s glorious and I long to strip off everything and plunge, naked, into the warm water.
“This is beautiful,” I say to Elliot as we make our way up onto the beach.
“It is indeed.”
It isn’t Elliot who answers, but Gavin, and I turn around. He’s just a couple of feet away, looking every bit as if he owns the place, a dark smile pulling at his lips.
