One Last Gift, page 26
She laughed, and it dispelled some of the awkwardness. He pulled her to him, kissed her neck softly, and she felt the same tingles from last night travel down the side of her body, right to her toes. He kissed her again, squeezed her arm, then murmured, “I’ll be back.” He got up, and she tried not to watch as he threw some clothes on. It was almost a shame to see him dressed—he really was something, naked.
When he was out of the room, she pulled a pajama top on then popped to the bathroom, quickly brushing her teeth and checking herself in the mirror. When she clambered back into bed, she got her phone off the bedside table so she’d have something to distract herself with while she waited for him to come back.
She unlocked it, read a WhatsApp from Hazel. Where are you?? Did you stay for an extra night? Did you stay alone??
Feeling her lips tug into a smile, Cassie sent a message back. You’re not going to believe me, so I’ll just have to tell you in person. I’ll be back later today. I think.
Nooooo. The suspense is killing me!
Cassie grinned, then sobered when she clocked the time, feeling her stomach flip. She needed to ring Robert—she was supposed to be at work in an hour.
Sam reappeared in the doorway, hair disheveled, holding a tray of coffee, toast, and scrambled eggs. Cassie looked at the tray, blinked, then looked at Sam and smiled. “I don’t think anyone has brought me breakfast in bed before,” she admitted. And he looked so cute, all rumpled, trying to be domestic. Something tightened in her chest and she felt a slight tingle of panic. She shouldn’t—couldn’t—go down that road, couldn’t let herself start feeling that way about him, not again.
“Good, that means you have nothing to compare it to—if you did, I’m not sure I’d come out on top.” He brought the tray over, set it down between them on the bed. He glanced at the phone in her hand. “Just do it,” he advised. “You’ll feel better once it’s over and done with.” Well, of course he knew what she was thinking.
Knowing she wouldn’t enjoy breakfast while her stomach was a ball of anxiety, Cassie dialed Robert’s direct line. “Robert?” she said when he answered. “It’s Cassie. I’m really sorry, but I’m not going to be able to make it in today. I’m not feeling well.”
“Not feeling well?” he asked incredulously, as if he’d never heard of such a thing.
“Yes,” Cassie said, hated that her voice wasn’t firm. “I’ve got…” Sam pointed at his stomach, made a face. “A stomach flu?” She realized she’d made it into a question and continued hurriedly, “I think. I feel really nauseous anyway, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to come in. Hopefully it’s just a twenty-four-hour thing.”
“But…But…” Robert spluttered. “You can’t be ill, I’ve got no one to cover for you.”
“Can you get a temp?” Cassie asked, though she knew from memory that there was nothing major going on at the hotel today, and Josh could handle it. “I just don’t want to be throwing up all over the guests,” she said, as firmly as she could manage. Sam gave her a thumbs up. “Actually,” she continued, talking over Robert, feeling bolstered by Sam, “I’ve got to go. I’m feeling a bit…I’ll update you tomorrow.”
She hung up, then stared at her phone. “I can’t believe I just did that.”
“You were great! Very convincing.”
Cassie narrowed her eyes. “Liar. But he can’t disprove it, can he?”
“Exactly. That’s the spirit.”
She ate a forkful of eggs. “They’re good!” she said, and meant it. She’d had enough experience with Hazel’s attempts at scrambled eggs to know that they could come out extremely rubbery if you did it wrong.
When they’d finished breakfast, Sam took the plates and piled them on the bedside table. “I’ll have a shower, get ready,” he said.
“Get ready for what?”
He shrugged. “Something fun?” He kissed the top of her head almost absentmindedly before leaving for the bathroom. And that kiss, the casualness of it, the way it seemed so natural, made her stomach lurch again.
Her phone beeped as he left and she jumped, worrying that it would be Robert. She looked down at it, saw a message from Josh.
Heard you’re ill, that sucks, followed by a sad face. Then, immediately after, another message: Are you actually ill, or did mystery sponsor show up and turn out to be a massive hunk and now you’re eloping together?
It made Cassie grin. She glanced up at the open door to check that Sam wasn’t on his way back, then replied.
You’re closer with the second.
WHAT!!!! Are you pulling my leg here?
I’ll tell you at work tomorrow!
But I need details!!!
There was a knock at the door, and Cassie scrambled out of bed, yelling to Sam that she’d get it. She opened the door to see Greg on the other side of it, wearing a gray shirt today. Maybe all the gray was deliberate? “You did it, then?” he asked, a little gruffly.
Cassie grinned—she couldn’t help it. “So it would seem.”
Greg handed her an envelope, and this time, Cassie saw the number in the corner. “As promised.” Cassie took it, smiled her thanks. “Now, you enjoy your day here, OK? You might as well, now you’ve come all this way. And you’re welcome to stay another night—the place is yours until tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Cassie said, trying to get across all her gratitude. “You’ve been so generous.”
Greg waved a hand. “It’s the least I could do. And you’re welcome back anytime, you hear me? I’ve written my number down so you can get hold of me.” He pointed to the top of the envelope. Cassie felt a little jolt, seeing something on the envelope other than Tom’s number, but it settled after a beat. This was a man Tom had had a connection with, for whatever reason, and it was no bad thing to have a piece of him there too.
She said goodbye to Greg, and took the envelope into the kitchen, staring at it. This was it. The last clue, the one that would take her to the end, would reveal whatever gift Tom had gotten her—the very last one he’d give her. There had always been the same number of clues in Tom’s treasure hunts. So this one, it would be the one to take her to the final hiding place, and after that it would be done and her connection with Tom would be broken. No more clues in his handwriting, no more hearing his voice as she read the notes.
She heard Sam coming down the stairs and quickly shoved the clue half under the fruit bowl on the kitchen table. She smiled as he came into the kitchen, hoping that the flash of warmth in her cheeks wasn’t obvious. “Greg says that we’ve got the place for another night, if we want it.” She said it as casually as she could, like it was no big deal, making it clear that she didn’t expect anything from him.
His eyes crinkled. “Excellent. Get dressed then, let’s go exploring.” He was already dressed, of course, wearing jeans and a blue T-shirt—casual, so much better than those fancy lawyer suits. Not that she had anything against suits per se, but Sam seemed more him when he was like this, without the bravado he’d picked up in London.
“OK.” Because why the hell not? She’d come this far, after all. And while she was here, she’d let herself roll with it—just this once.
* * *
—
They walked along the coastline, no real destination in mind, enjoying the warm day. The sea was different shades of blue and turquoise, and Cassie watched as a few different birds dived into the water to catch their lunch. Next to her, Sam squeezed her hand, their strides somehow matching, despite the difference in their heights.
They found a little café nestled up on the road above the beach and sat outside there on a blue picnic bench, under bunting on the old stone building. A woman, who Cassie guessed was in her fifties, came out beaming, showing off very white teeth, which weirdly matched the white top she was wearing underneath a blue apron. “What can I get you, my loves?”
“Err…” Cassie began, and looked at Sam, who was sitting opposite her.
“Cream tea is one of our specialities, if you’re looking for something nice and tasty? I can make it an iced tea on a day like this, do a couple of sandwiches to go with your scones?”
“Sounds brilliant,” Sam said.
The woman brought out the iced teas first, the glasses already beaded with condensation, and Cassie took a sip, realizing she was thirstier than she’d thought. She hadn’t thought to stop for a drink along the way, too caught up in this weird fairy tale of a day. When the woman brought out the scones and sandwiches, set it all down between them on white plates with flowers around the edges, they thanked her. Cassie ran her eyes over the spread as the woman walked away, her stomach tightening a little in hunger after the walk. Then she laughed out loud.
“What?” Sam was looking at her with that little crooked smile, trying to figure out the joke.
She shook her head. “I just can’t believe I’m here, sat outside in Cornwall, with you, having afternoon tea, of all things.”
His smile got bigger. “Me too. A week ago I was in New York, with no idea where I’d be next.”
Cassie bit her lip. So far, they hadn’t really talked about the last few months, had carefully avoided the subject of when they’d last seen each other. “How was it?” she asked after a beat. “New York?”
“It was…” He reached out, took a cheese and cucumber sandwich, but didn’t eat it right away. “It was brilliant, in lots of ways. I ended up working at this youth-center-type place, teaching kids to climb.” He shrugged a little, like he was embarrassed to admit it.
Cassie cocked her head. “I can imagine that.”
“You can?”
She nodded. She could imagine this Sam, the one she liked, doing something like that and being good at it. She remembered, with excruciating detail, how patient he’d been when he’d tried to teach her how to ski. “I can,” she said firmly. “I bet you were good at it.”
He looked down at his sandwich, a slight flush at the base of his neck, all flustered and uncomfortable.
She hid her smile, decided not to press the subject. “I bet your mum missed you,” she said instead.
“Yeah. I bought her a spa day, to try to make up for it. I think she’s going with Linda, actually.”
“Really? Linda didn’t tell me.” She needed to ring her, check in, see how the pub was doing. Linda was working to convert the upstairs to proper rooms, Cassie knew, taking one of her suggestions on board. “And…Your dad?”
Sam looked out toward the ocean. “I haven’t spoken to him.” His face tightened, like he wanted to end it there, close the discussion off. But then he seemed to make a decision and sighed, looked back at her. “He was at…the hotel, back in March.” It was carefully phrased—the word “wedding” very clearly avoided, though Cassie still had to fight to control the way it made her stomach turn.
“Really?”
“Yeah. He wanted to…I don’t know. Apologize. Be there. Whatever. But I, well, I left.”
“I remember,” Cassie said, a little wryly. Her tone made Sam grin, and some of the tension left her body. “Have you tried talking to him since?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure I know how to, after all this time.”
Cassie considered him. “I know it’s not the same,” she said slowly, “but I’d give anything to speak to my parents again. There’s so much I wish I could ask them, so much I wish I knew about them that I don’t, that I never will.” He reached for her hand, but she shook her head. “It’s OK. I’m not…I’m OK,” she repeated. “I just meant…Will you regret it, not at least trying, while you have the chance? Maybe you won’t—I don’t know your dad, and maybe he’s truly not the type of person worth giving a second, or third, chance to. But if you know, deep down, that there’s a part of you that will regret it then…” She smiled gently. “Well, then maybe you should try.”
Sam said nothing for a moment, just looked at her, brow a little furrowed. Then he sighed. “I’ve been so worried, my whole life, about ending up like him. That I’ll do what he did—have a kid and let them down or something. I travel, sure, but up until recently I did it for holidays, and stuck to one place, held down a job.” His face twisted into a little grimace. “I’ve been trying so hard not to be him, but what if I am?” Jessica’s name was there again in the offing, but it was like neither of them wanted to mention her directly.
“Well,” she said, as calmly as she could, “maybe the fact that you’re aware of it, aware of his mistakes, means that you won’t make the same ones.” They both looked out at the ocean for a moment, then Cassie picked up a sandwich of her own, turned it round and round in her hands. “Amy’s pregnant,” she said quietly. Sam’s gaze snapped to her face. “It’s Tom’s.” Sam nodded slowly, and Cassie stared at him. “You knew,” she said.
“Yeah. Yeah, I knew.” She remembered, then, how he’d told her to drop the subject of Amy, back in the bar, the last night she’d spent with Tom before he’d died.
She felt tears burning the back of her eyes, but blinked them away. “Then you know…” She took a breath. “You knew he was going to leave her. He had left her. He left her, because he didn’t want…” But it felt too damning to say it out loud.
Sam looked at her for a long moment, eyebrows pulled together. “I think he would have changed his mind, in the end,” he said eventually.
She looked down at her sandwich again. “You can’t know that though, can you?”
“No, but…Look, he didn’t tell me exactly what he was thinking. I knew that Amy was pregnant, and I knew Tom was freaking out. I think he idolized the idea of your dad, growing up, but he, I mean, you guys, you never actually had one, did you?”
Cassie frowned down at her plate. “That’s not—”
“I’m not saying it excuses it or whatever,” Sam said quickly. “I’m just…Well, I can kind of relate.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “You guys had Linda, and Claire, and—”
“Claire wasn’t exactly much of a role model,” Cassie said with a sigh, then immediately felt guilty about it. Claire hadn’t done anything explicitly wrong, had she? They’d been looked after, had a house, comfort. Had a place where they could stay together—because who knew what would have happened if Claire hadn’t taken them in.
“Well, Linda then. But there wasn’t, I don’t know, a ‘dad’ figure, you know? And Tom, well, when he talked to me about it, he was saying he didn’t know how to be a dad. And I guess I’m saying, I kind of know why.”
Cassie said nothing, though her heart ached at the idea that Tom had felt he could tell Sam all this, and not her. Maybe that was because, as much as she’d always tried to look out for him too, he’d usually been the one looking after her. So it was a different relationship from the one Tom and Sam had had. And maybe, instead of feeling jealous, she should feel grateful that Tom had had someone like that in his life.
“I really think he would have gone back to Amy, Cassie,” Sam said softly. “He loved her. And he wasn’t enough of a fuck-up to leave her alone with a baby.” He gave her that same crooked smile that she knew so well. “Not like me.”
She sighed. “You’re not a fuck-up, Sam.” He raised his eyebrows, and she laughed. “Well, not all of the time, at least.”
“I’ve ruined so many things, Cassie,” he said quietly. “Even if I didn’t mean to, I have.”
She didn’t say anything, wasn’t sure what exactly to say. Because she knew, didn’t she? She’d been there.
He took her hand, held it on the table. Her fingers laced with his automatically. “But I don’t want to ruin this.”
Cassie’s stomach lurched, a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite identify. She felt heat, more than just from the sun, flash down her spine, and she sat up straighter, more rigid. “Sam…” But she wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t sure she was ready for this conversation. “Let’s just enjoy the rest of the day, OK?”
He squeezed her hand, nodded, and let her fingers go. And even in the warmth of the day, her fingers registered the loss, the chill that took over from where his hand had been.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The sky was turning gray above them as they sat on the grass outside the lighthouse, close enough to see the sea but far enough back that there was no chance of accidentally falling over the edge. Sam had tried to make them sit a bit closer, but she’d refused—the view of the rocks below was beautiful, but not something she wanted to see up close. The gray sky didn’t mar the beauty of the place. Instead it took on a new character, going from peaceful to wild as the wind picked up and the air cooled, threatening rain. The sea below was moving from placid to angry—not a full-blown rage, not yet, but building toward it.
Cassie ate a third slice of the oven pizza that they’d found in Greg’s freezer. She sighed. “I’m a little sad this all has to end, that I have to go back to reality.” She was getting the first train back to London tomorrow. Because she was close enough to, she dropped her head on Sam’s shoulder, and he put his arm companionably around her.
“Me too,” he murmured, and she wondered if he felt it too, the sense that it all just worked here—that they worked here. It was like there was a spell around the cottage, the lighthouse, the coast, and while they were inside it, they were safe.
“What will you do now? Go back to being a lawyer? Go to London?” Up until now she’d tried to hold off asking him any of these questions, because she wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted the answer to be. She didn’t want him to disappear, but she also didn’t want to make it painful, and they both still had so much to sort out. For her part, she knew she couldn’t put herself in a vulnerable situation. Whether or not he’d changed, there was a part of her that still didn’t totally trust him, as much as she wished, in that moment, that she did. So would it be better or worse if he was close by? Could they work toward being friends, after this? Or would they drift apart, with only this memory of a few romantic days in Cornwall, like something out of a film?
