Always and Only You

Chapter Twenty-Six

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Present Day

The resort provides golf buggies to ferry guests up and down the steep hills to the villas and cottages and we ride one back to our love nest in silence. When we pull up, Gil jumps out and strides inside, slamming the door behind him. I smile weakly at the driver, whisper my thanks, and slide from my seat.

I stare at the closed door for a few seconds and then decide to use my key fob to open the side gate and walk around to the deck and pool area at the back. My way is lit by a string of lightbulbs and when I turn the corner, I spot a champagne bucket and two glasses on the table near the railing. Oh, God … Gil must have set this up earlier.

I wince.

Beads of condensation drip down the neck of the champagne. I swallow. After the night I’ve had, I could really do with a glass. Would it be … would it be bad if I opened it? Or should I wait for Gil?

But if Gil’s anything like Simon, he’s got to the sulking stage of an argument, which means I won’t hear anything more from him until morning. I breathe out in relief. Not the way I’d planned to ensure my honour stayed intact tonight, but I’ll take it. And if Gil is anything like Simon, he’ll be ready to gloss over it and move on in the morning, which means we could possibly do the rainforest trip as planned. I was really looking forward to that.

And, yes, I know thinking this way makes me seem like a heartless bitch, but I wouldn’t be worrying about riding gondolas through the rain forest if this was my real honeymoon. I’d be running inside and doing anything and everything I could to save my marriage. But that’s the point, isn’t it? This isn’t my marriage. It isn’t even my real life.

But then I look at how perfect the arrangement is, how romantic, and I weaken. After staring at the bottle for a few seconds, I pull it from the bucket and unwrap the foil. I pop it quietly and pour some into both glasses, then I pick one up and head to the French doors that lead into the bedroom. Gil is sitting on the edge of the bed facing away from me, staring at nothing.

I put the flute down on the console under the window. ‘Peace offering,’ I say quietly, and he looks up.

I see the moment he remembers the surprise he planned, and I also see the thought behind his eyes. Idiot, he tells himself. What were you thinking?

I feel a tug of sympathy for him. Nothing wrong , I want to answer. Because it wouldn’t be, not usually.

I turn and head back to my glass of bubbles, sitting frosty and fizzing on the table outside, slide into one of the chairs and let out a deep sigh. The moonlight carves a broken path on the sea to the horizon and there are almost more stars than sky above me. I’ll just sit here, taking it all in, until Gil falls asleep and then I can creep into bed beside him.

I’m almost at the bottom of my glass when I hear a noise. He walks towards me, barefoot, shirt unbuttoned, and places his glass on the table. After topping us both up, he sits down opposite me. He doesn’t look as if he’s sulking. He doesn’t even look pissed off. He just looks … tired. And maybe even a little sad.

There’s another tug inside my chest. I do my best to ignore it.

‘Sorry,’ I say. For what, I’m not exactly sure, but then apologizing for everything and anything when I feel awkward is my MO so it really shouldn’t surprise me.

He nods. ‘So you’re ready to tell me what’s going on with you?’

My eyes open wide. No. I certainly am not. But I’m very ready to sweep it all under the carpet. ‘I’ve told you, I’m—’

‘I swear, Erin. If you tell me you’re fine one more time, I’m going to lose it.’

While he seems calm and still on the outside, I can tell it’s because he’s holding himself taut, straining to keep everything on the inside. I shiver, even though the night has not yet turned chilly.

Well, he’s stolen the only possible response I had. I shake my head and stare into my glass for a long while. When I look up again, Gil is still waiting. It’s obvious he’s not going to let this drop. I should have known. Gil Sampson is nothing like the man I love.

‘Don’t do this to me,’ he says. ‘To us.’

‘What? What am I doing?’

‘This isn’t you.’

Well, he’s wrong about that. ‘Yes, it is. This is me,’ I respond. It’s everything else in this crazy world that isn’t real.

‘No,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘This … this dishonesty.’

I sit up straighter. ‘That’s a bit strong.’

He blinks slowly, then fixes his eyes on mine. I’m tempted to look away, but I resist the urge. I need to do this; I need to meet him in this moment. ‘This isn’t how we operate,’ he says. ‘This isn’t how it’s been for all these years we’ve been together, not since Megan …’ I’m too distracted by the mention of her name to fully comprehend what he’s saying, but then he continues. ‘Where’s the open, giving Erin who isn’t afraid to say what she thinks and feels? The woman who’s knows how to be vulnerable, who’s not afraid to show every part of herself to me?’

I stare back at him, no words in my mouth, no thoughts in my head. I’d like to know where that woman is, too. In fact, I’d very much like to meet her.

He takes hold of my hand, the way he tried to do at dinner, and there’s such intensity in his expression that I don’t pull away. It’s like I’m held in a tractor beam. ‘That’s the woman I love. That’s the woman I thought I was marrying …’

So not me, then. I almost laugh. Somehow, him saying that makes this easier. ‘That woman isn’t real,’ I say softly. ‘She’s an illusion. A figment of your imagination.’ Just as much as you are of mine, I add silently. So now we’re quits. I feel quite liberated.

He drops my hand, stands up and walks away, running a hand through his hair. He does this a lot when he’s stressed, I realize. I’ve even seen him doing it in real life, on the rare times he’s back in the country and the even rarer times he sees Simon and me together rather than just Simon on his own.

Suddenly, he turns and strides towards me. I would get up and back away, but I can’t push the chair back from the table fast enough. He crouches down beside my chair and takes my hands. ‘Please, Erin. Please. Whatever you think you can’t tell me, you can. You can trust me.’

I close my eyes and bring my hands up to my temples, digging my fingers into my hairline. My head is swimming. I don’t know what to do.

It’s the soft touch of the pad of his thumb on the back of my hand that undoes me. I can’t tell him everything. He’d never believe me and it would just make him even more upset and angry if he thought I was playing games with him. But maybe I need to be honest about one thing in particular. We clearly can’t go on like this.

I open my eyes and look at him. My voice comes out as a scratchy whisper as I nod towards the other chair. ‘Sit down.’ I can’t have him this close.

There’s a flash of relief across Gil’s face, but then he sobers. I swear he knows I’m about to break his heart.

I take a deep breath and blow it out. My pulse is booming inside my ears. ‘You’re right. Everything’s not fine. Not by a long shot.’

‘What is it? Is it—?’

I hold up my hand. ‘Please … just let me get this out.’ I can hardly make sense of it myself, and I’m never going to manage if Gil interrogates me, picking my story apart. I take a moment to regroup and then I let him have it. ‘I think … I think maybe we made a mistake.’

Confusion is written all over his face. ‘About …?’ He looks around to the trees, to the stars, searching for an answer. ‘About our honeymoon? About St Lucia?’

I shake my head. ‘About us.’

His lips press together and he frowns. Hard. ‘You … You think we made a mistake getting married?’

I nod. I want to cry. I know this isn’t real, but in this moment it feels like it. I’ve never even broken up with someone before – I’m always slavishly loyal until the moment they dump me out of the blue – let alone ended a marriage.

‘But we’ve been together for years. You said this is what you wanted! For months you’ve done nothing but talk about the wedding and plan, and talk and plan …’

I nod again. I know this must make no sense to him. And there’s no way I can rectify that. This whole scenario makes no sense to me either. We’re in the same boat.

‘And you couldn’t have told me this four days ago? Before I stood in the church like an absolute mug waiting for you?’

I look down at the floor. ‘No.’ It’s the truth. I couldn’t have. ‘Why?’ There’s a catch in his voice that makes me look up sharply. I’ve never seen Gil look anything other than unreadable or cocky in real life, but the last few days he’s been weirdly nice, acting like a normal human being. Though right now, he looks like I punched a hole in his chest and closed my fist around his heart.

‘It’s …’ I stop to wipe away a tear I feel rolling down my cheek. ‘It’s complicated.’

I expect that rough, barking, sarcastic laugh of his to erupt out of him, but he just stares at me, completely at a loss. I can’t stand to watch him any more, so I push my chair back and walk over to the nearest section of railing overlooking the bay. I don’t want him to think I’m walking out on him. I just need some space, some air.

When I glance round a minute later, he’s sitting on the chair still, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. He must sense me looking, because his head bobs up and he meets my eyes. For a few long heartbeats we just stare at each other and then a change rolls across his features. Realization. Revelation.

My stomach goes cold as his expression hardens.

‘It’s Simon, isn’t it?’