Page 33 of And Then There Was You

Twenty-Seven Merryn

We’re so close now, the still-warm memory of the love song he wrote to the sea sparkling in the air around us. I didn’t expect him to be so honest with me, or share something so personal.

Did he do it because of how I reacted when he asked me to play?

The possibility draws me back to this moment, here, with Zach.

But should I kiss him?

I always said I wouldn’t get involved with anyone again, not after Luke. To let anyone close to me after such a betrayal was unthinkable.

Or so I believed.

But lately I’ve watched my friends and customers falling in love, starting lives together, getting married, having kids.

And from my vantage point behind the counter at Sweet Reverie, I’ve started to wish I could have what they do.

I see how love brings people together, breaks barriers, offers hope.

On Saturday night, I watched Jack and Nessie with Seren.

And it was wonderful. Love brought them together, despite so many obstacles life threw in their way.

I hardly know Zach. But my heart wants to know him. He just shared his song with me – and the events that brought him to write it. The most intimate, private glimpse into his life. When I couldn’t tell him about Grant, or why playing the piano is both my most longed for desire and my biggest fear.

He’s all I see now, his breath dancing across my lips, our eyes closing as we move closer . . .

‘I should go,’ he whispers, so close that our lips almost touch. ‘It’s late.’

My heart contracts as his lips brush my cheek in a soft kiss. It’s beautiful: gentle, unhurried and kind. But it isn’t what I want. What I thought we both wanted.

‘Of course.’ Blushing, I pull away, the courtyard swimming a little as I regain my control. ‘Thank you – for the song.’

A line forms between his eyebrows as he looks at me. ‘I’ll come back. If you want me to?’

‘Yes,’ I reply, the word carried on a rush of air.

‘When?’

‘I have the evening opening tomorrow.’

‘Afterwards? Or another night?’

I should leave it until Saturday, when our first round of evening services are done. But can I wait that long to hear Zach play again?

‘Tomorrow night, eleven-thirty. But I can’t stay up for long.’

Relief blooms in his smile. ‘Half an hour. Just tunes and chat. Sound good?’

I smile back, the moment passed between us. ‘Sounds great.’

We stand, Zach closing the lid of the piano with such kindness and respect that it makes my heart ache. He must guess what it means to me, even if my not playing it is a mystery to him. That he treats it – and me – with such gentleness means the world.

I walk with him to the point where the courtyard meets the passage to the street. When I face him his gaze drops, warm fingers catching my wrist and lifting it up.

‘You’re wearing it.’

‘I’ve worn it all day.’

His smile is impossibly lovely. ‘It’s you. Bright in the dark night.’ Laughing, he shakes his head. ‘Never thought I’d say that out loud.’

‘You’re very lyrical for a surfer.’

‘ Former surfer.’

‘I don’t think you cease to be one just because you stop competing,’ I counter, daring to place my hand against his chest. ‘You’re still one – in here.’

His hand closes over mine. ‘Maybe. So, tomorrow night?’

‘Tomorrow night.’

He releases my hand and I watch him hurry away into the night.