Always and Only You

Chapter Twenty-Four

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Present Day

We arrive at The Lookout on the dot of six. The restaurant is on a small hill at the opposite end of the bay to Petit Piton. The exterior looks similar to many of the other hotel buildings – colonial-style, painted white – but the interior decor is more in keeping with a five-star hotel in any major city. We walk onto a large wooden deck overlooking the bay, filled with elegantly laid tables. The sun hasn’t long set, and the sky is orange and yellow, smudged with lavender clouds. I couldn’t imagine anything more romantic if I tried. Crap.

As we near the wooden balustrade at the edge of the deck and the waiter pulls a chair out for me, I spot a couple on the next table who are obviously honeymooners, just like we are.

Well, maybe not just like we are.

They have their hands interlaced on the tabletop and she pulls one away to feed him a piece of her starter on a slender spoon. They have an aura about them, an energy, but all of it is focused on the other person. It’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

I look away as I sit down and when I look back up again. I’m staring into Gil’s eyes. I know he’s seen me watching them, and I swallow down a lump in my throat. ‘I can’t wait to see what they’ve got on the menu, can you?’ I say, smiling brightly at him, hoping I am capturing just a little of that buoyant, joyous energy radiating from the table behind him.

‘I suppose so.’

‘You don’t sound very excited. The Lookout isn’t just the best restaurant in Halcyon Cove, it’s supposed to be one of the best restaurants on the island.’

‘Is it? I wouldn’t know. You didn’t actually let me in on our plans.’

I take the napkin from the table and place it carefully in my lap. ‘Is that a problem? I thought it would be a nice surprise.’

Gil makes a sound that is half-grunt, half-laugh. But he doesn’t say anything else.

I pick up the menu and peruse the selection of mouth-watering dishes listed. There is steak tartare and caviar, or octopus ceviche with samphire. But I can’t choose between the pan-fried scallops and beef carpaccio.

I can feel Gil watching me as I study the menu. What’s up with him this evening? And why is he being so touchy that I booked us a nice meal? That I planned something lovely for him? This is who I am. Simon loves the fact that I take charge, that I know what I want, and I go out and get it. He’s grateful that I do these little things for him. It just goes to show how unsuited Gil and I are.

We eat our starters in silence. The one downside is that I have a ringside view of the other honeymoon couple, and they’re beginning to annoy me. Seriously, it’s as if they can’t be a molecule apart from each other, even for a single second. I don’t know why they didn’t just order room service and maul each other back in their cottage or wherever they’re staying. Gil turns to see what I’m scowling at, watches them for a few seconds, then turns back. Now he’s frowning too.

We both choose the Dover sole as our main course, served with a potato dish I can’t even remember the name of and seaweed hollandaise. It’s possibly the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. My plate is emptying far too quickly, possibly because conversation isn’t slowing us down. At this rate, we’ll be in and out of the restaurant in under an hour, which feels like a defeat. However, halfway through his fish, Gil stops, puts his knife and fork down and looks at me.

He’s been stewing. I had a feeling he was. He gets a certain expression on his face where you can practically see the cogs in his brain going round, then when he’s ready, he spits it all out. I steel myself, expecting the same surly barbs he threw at me in the hotel garden back in Dartmouth the night before the wedding.

‘I do like the meal, Erin. And I am pleased you booked the table here, but …’ He sighs. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but marriage is supposed to be a partnership, not one person doing everything, deciding everything for the other. I appreciate the hard work and thought you put into planning this, into everything we’ve done so far, but you haven’t bothered to ask what I would like to do, or where I would like to eat.’

I swallow the morsel of fish I’ve been chewing and fix him with a blistering stare. ‘We’ve only been married three days and you’re saying I’m a bad wife?’

Gil inhales and exhales slowly. I know I am testing his patience. I don’t care. He’s definitely testing mine. ‘No. That’s not what I’m saying, Erin. Don’t put words into my mouth. It’s just …’ He closes his eyes briefly, shakes his head, then opens them again. ‘I get the feeling you’d be as happy visiting every tourist attraction on St Lucia without me, that it wouldn’t matter if I was here or not.’

I stab a bit of samphire with my fork. I’m not going to let him spoil this meal for me. Once I’ve eaten it, I say, ‘Planning is my love language.’ If Gil knew anything about me, he would understand that. I know it must be confusing for Gil, but I will not betray Simon just because it would stop Gil feeling bad. I’m sorry, but I won’t.

Gil watches the emotions play across my face and his features soften. ‘I know that, Erin. But there’s something more going on here. Tell me. Tell me what’s going on with you.’

He reaches across with his right hand to touch the fingertips of my left and I pull it away so fast that I knock my wineglass over. There’s an awkward silence as a waiter rushes over to mop up the liquid, then hurries off to get another glass.

Gil’s face is a rigid mask. ‘Did you actually just flinch when I touched you?’

‘No.’ I shake my head, maybe a little too emphatically. We both know I’m lying and that knowledge settles between us like a heavy weight.

‘You’ve been acting weirdly ever since you said “I do”.’

‘Actually, it’s “I will” in England. People always get that wrong—’

Gil pushes himself back from the table slightly, making the silverware clatter. ‘You know what, Erin? I really don’t care what the wording of the service is. That’s not the point.’

‘Then what is the point?’

He looks at me. I mean, really looks at me. ‘The point is,’ he begins smoothly, ‘as you rightly say, we’re on day three of our honeymoon, but my bride seems to be doing her best to avoid me.’ He flicks a glance at the couple behind us, who are lovingly spooning dessert into each other’s mouths. ‘Not only that, but she can’t seem to stand being in the same room as me.’

He says this last bit a little too loudly, which causes the female half of the other couple to stop slurping chocolate mousse off her husband’s spoon and turn to give us … well, Gil … a pitying look. I’m suddenly furious with her. And with him.

I roll my eyes. ‘Oh, of course … It’s about sex. I should have known!’

Gil gives me a withering look. It seems I wasn’t quiet with my reply either, as the people at the table on our left all turn their heads. I’d planned on having a nice dinner tonight. I hadn’t factored in there’d be a floor show – and that Gil and I might be the headline act.

He catches my gaze and holds it, but this time it’s not irritation or frustration I see. He’s begging me to understand. ‘Of course I want to make love with you, Erin. I love you … and it’s our honeymoon!’

I swallow and look down at my lap, aware that in most circumstances, this would not be an unrealistic or unreasonable expectation. If I weren’t so traumatized by navigating my way through this never-ending nightmare, I might even feel sorry for him. But I can’t let myself.

‘But it’s more than that … isn’t it? Something’s up. I’m worried about you.’

For some reason, his words bring tears to my eyes. But I don’t need him to worry about me. I don’t need anyone to worry about me. I can take care of myself. I always have. And I don’t like him thinking I’m weak. It shores up my resolve to see this thing through. I can’t let him win.

‘It’s just … It’s just the aftermath of the wedding, all that stress. I’m fine. We’re fine.’

Gil shakes his head slowly. ‘No, we’re not. You’re not. You haven’t been right since our wedding day.’

‘You’ve said nothing until now, so it can’t have bothered you that much.’

‘I’ve asked you countless times if you’re okay.’

I give a one-shouldered shrug, conceding his point.

‘I was hoping you’d open up to me. I know the run-up to the wedding was busy and stressful. And I know the day itself wasn’t a hundred per cent easy, not with your mum, your brother … And I don’t know what’s going on with you and Anjali, but I saw her being really cold with you at one point. Have you guys had a fight? Has that got something to do with this?’

My stomach swoops and all the butter my Dover sole was drenched in seems to congeal in my intestines. Gil noticed that? He was paying more attention than I realized. And if he saw that, maybe he also saw …

There’s another swoop, stronger this time. What if Gil suspects everything ?

I look back at him in panic. Is it there? Can I see it in his eyes?

But even if I do, I’m not going to open that can of worms. I can’t.

‘I’m honestly fine. Me and Anjali … It was … It was a misunderstanding. And you’re right – it was a lot running up to the wedding.’ I laugh, but instead of coming out light and breezy, it sounds as if I’ve got a fishbone stuck in my throat. ‘I’m just … I don’t know what I am at the moment. But I’m sure I’ll be back to normal again soon.’ I smile at Gil, try to replicate what the honeymoon bride behind me has been doing all night with her partner. ‘Honestly.’

Gil’s jaw hardens. He shakes his head and looks away, and then he raises a hand to catch a waiter’s attention and asks for the bill. We haven’t even had dessert.