Page 56 of Unexpected Company
While I am not one to have regrets – they never accomplish anything – I wish Garrett and I had taken a moment to talk about this thing between us. So then I would at least know where we stand once I walk out the door.
Putting down my untouched cup of tea – not even my favourite drink could make me happy right now – I leave Liam in the kitchen and go to find Garrett.
He’s not difficult to find, the tap tap of his typewriter clueing me in to his location. He looks up when I enter, his lips pressed into a thin line. He nods, pushing his chair away from the tiny desk.
“You’re leaving?”
I fiddle with the buttons on his flannel shirt I’m wearing, looking down at my bare feet.
“I am. I have a work thing tonight.”
“I heard,” he says, his voice gruff.
“I know we had plans today, and I’m sorry for bailing on them. On you.”
I look at him. Garrett offers me a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Those three little words sit on the tip of my tongue, but I hold them back. This isn’t the moment. You don’t tell someone you love them for the first time and then walk away.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweet thing. We always knew we couldn’t stay in this cottage for good.” He gets up and strolls closer, taking my hands in his. “Real life was waiting for us.” He squeezes, then drops them. His eyes are glossy, a gentle flush appearing on his cheeks. “I’m going to take a walk into thevillage and stock up for my last few days here.”Alone. He doesn’t say the word, but it hangs there in the space between us. Like an annoying gnat that won’t go away.
Garrett heads towards the door of the lounge, but I stop him before he can leave.
“Gare Bear?”
Our gazes meet and all I want to do is run and throw my arms around him. So I do. Because maybe this is the end of us and I’ll never get to tell him how I truly feel. Or maybe it’s only a temporary hiatus. Either way, I need a little more.
He squeezes me tight, his nose brushing along my neck.
“I’m going to miss you,” I say.
“Me too,” he replies.
“Will you call me? Once you’re home and settled back into life?” There’s hope in my voice. Hope that I’ll see him again soon and have the chance to tell him how much he means to me.
Garrett releases me, his throat bobbing as he answers. “I’d like that.” He points to the stand housing the television, the one with two small drawers holding our phones and keys. “Both our phones are flat – don’t forget to take yours – but if you write your number down, I’ll call you.”
“Good. Great.” I undo the button on his shirt. “I’ll leave this on the bed.” Garrett stills my hand.
“Keep it.” He kisses me. Hard. Fierce passion flowing from his lips to mine. My heart leaps and my body melts and I have to fight myself to pull away.
“Goodbye, trouble. Thank you for making this the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”
With one final press of my lips to his, I say, “Goodbye, Gare.”
Chapter twenty-two
Garrett
As if the British weather is in tune with my mood, rain clouds sweep in on my walk back from the village, a small bag of groceries in my hand. I don’t need much now that I’ve cut my own trip short. The lovely lady at the bakery helped me arrange a flight back to London and an airport transfer – not Charles, because he is on leave – for tomorrow afternoon.
Staying in the cottage without Roman didn’t sound appealing. Everything, including the once bright winter day, losing its sparkle knowing he’s not sprawled out on the sofa or dancing in the lounge, awaiting my return.
Inside, I place the bag on the kitchen counter, then flick on the tinny sound of the ancient CD player, drowning out the lonesome silence. I’d much rather listen to Roman mutter to himself while playing cards or reading.
I plate up a pie from the bakery, and make a cup of coffee – the first I’ve made in the cottage – then sit at my desk and pull up my manuscript. I stare at the words on the page, reading over the chapter where Blaine and Jack admit their love for each other.Nothing new comes to me. Not a single fucking word, only the desire to erase the entire romance from the story.
I’m angry, I realise. Not at Roman, but at myself. At not telling him how I felt when I had the chance. Not being brave enough to pick one of the quiet moments between us to say ‘Hey, I really like you, and I’d love to make this thing between us permanent’ or something along those lines and less cringeworthy.
With a sigh, I get up; open the drawer and take out my phone, putting it on the charger, then move around the place gathering up my things. It takes all of ten minutes because unlike my house companion; I didn’t spread my possessions all over the place.
