Page 49 of Love from Pretty Beach

A week or so later, nothing had changed.

At least not from Darby’s point of view.

Deep down, she was very upset. Almost catastrophically so if she had allowed herself that luxury.

She would not even go there. However, she’d added the whole Archie thing to a long list of her failures and left it at that.

Although she was very disappointed, something made her feel resolved not to let it get her down.

She’d been there too many times before. Her channel and dedication to growing both it and herself forced her to soldier on despite feeling sad inside.

Not only that, there’d been another situation with Michael.

Lily’s finger had required more intervention and she’d continued to work on her channel.

The weather had turned and she was now planning a humongous operation to get her garden together.

Another project in her life, whereby some effort would result in a huge amount of return. Something to focus her mind on, too.

With a long list in one of her diaries, sitting at her garden table beside a very gorgeous just-blooming hyacinth, whereby every time she inhaled, she smiled, Darby had spent a good amount of time planning what to do in the courtyard.

She’d already started on the bones of the garden when she’d first started planning how to get herself out of the hole.

She’d bought a few packets of seeds, planted lots of bulbs, coaxed sweet peas into life and now had things to work with.

She’d got the lawn in order, some of the beds were sorted and the overgrown shrubs had been cut down.

Scanning her list, her next job was to get the front courtyard area sorted.

This would involve jetwashing the once white, now more mouldy green gravel, repainting the timber table, sorting out her pots and generally having a spruce up.

With that in mind, she’d cleaned the front courtyard, tidied up by the front door, washed and cleaned the porch area and after relearning the ins and outs of the jetwash machine, was now standing by the low front wall facing the road with the jetwash going hell for leather.

Talk about therapeutic. There was something immensely satisfying about watching years and years of dirt relieving itself of a block-paved courtyard.

Completely lost in a world of her own, she nearly jumped out of her skin when, just as she stopped the pressure hose, someone was standing directly in front of her by the wall.

That someone just so happened to have a white box in his arms. He also just so happened to look rather gorgeous.

It’s a shame the same could not be said for Darby.

In her working dungarees, old stripy painting shirt and her hair shoved up in her clip, “gorgeous” would not have been a word anyone would have used to describe her. What did she care?

She couldn’t quite believe who was in front of her eyes. ‘Hi.’

Archie smiled and held out the box. ‘I thought you might like this.’

‘Sorry, what?’ Darby frowned.

‘I’m working here this afternoon and I’ve been thinking about you.’ He proffered the box again.

Darby was thrown. She didn’t know whether to take the box or not. He was clearly offering an olive branch. Did she want to take it? Taking the box, she looked at him. ‘What’s this for?’

‘To, err, I think I may have been hasty.’

Darby lifted the lid on the box. Inside, covered in chocolate cocoa powder, a tiramisu looked back at her.

She knew the tiramisu was a special edition from Lottie, the woman who ran the supper clubs in Pretty Beach.

It would have cost an arm and a leg. So, he thought a cake could win her back. ‘Thanks.’

‘I was wondering if…’

Darby interrupted him. ‘Thanks for the cake, but as you said, you were very hasty.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Look, not being funny, but I’ve had my heart broken enough times. I’ve had a big think about it, well, us, and, actually, I’m not sure if I want to go down that road again.’

‘What road?’

‘The broken heart road. It really isn’t a place I need to be. I’ve just got myself to a really good place. I don’t need to be upset. It’s just not worth it.’

‘I’m sorry I upset you.’ Archie looked awkward and as if he wasn't sure how to proceed.

Darby felt her heart hammering against her ribs. Seriously annoying when she'd spent the previous week telling herself she was over this whole situation. Over him. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to accept the tiramisu. She wasn’t entirely sure about anything.

'I really am sorry. I was having a bad day and I took it out on you. That wasn't fair. Social media is not for me and I was completely over the top.'

The voice in Darby's head, the sensible one that had kept her afloat through three failed relationships and countless disappointments, whispered sharply: Don't you dare accept this apology.

Don't you dare let him off the hook this easily. She gripped the box tighter. God, he really was gorgeous. That was half the problem, though. Men like Archie could get away with blue murder because they were all dark eyes and good cheekbones. He was standing there as if he’d never doubted his place in the world.

She vowed to feel the same. 'A bad day,' she repeated, not quite managing to keep the edge out of her voice. 'Right.'

'Look, I know how that sounds, but…'

'No, Archie, I don't think you do know how it sounds.' Darby put the box down on the wall between them. 'It sounds like you think you can be horrible to someone and then turn up with cake and everything will be fine. Yeah, not happening. I am not a pushover, you know.’

'That's not what I think. I think I made a mistake and I'm trying to make it right.'

Darby felt a really strange feeling come out of nowhere.

A sudden flash that he and she would be good and it would all be okay.

However, she was done with hope. It had got her into trouble before.

She'd hoped that her marriage would work, hoped that moving would solve her problems, hoped that Archie might actually be different from all the other men who had disappointed her.

Hope was dangerous. 'You were pretty clear the other day about what you thought. '

'I was angry.'

'About what? What exactly were you angry about?'

Archie shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked genuinely uncomfortable. 'I was angry about the video.'

'You're angry because you were in a video? Boo hoo. Poor you. I am so sorry for you.’

'It sounds petty when you say it like that.'

'It sounds petty because it is petty! You were horrible to me because you’re blurry on a video. Get over yourself.'

'It's about?—'

'It's about what exactly? Your ego?' Darby could feel her face burning.

‘Below the belt.’

‘From where I'm standing, it looks like you showed me your true colours the moment you didn't get what you wanted.'

Archie's face hardened. 'You know what your problem is, Darby? You think you're better than everyone else. You move down here with your fancy ideas. You're just another entitled blow-in who thinks the coast exists for your entertainment.'

The words hit her like cold water. Blow-in. 'Right. Well, thank you for making that crystal clear.'

'I didn't mean?—'

'No, you did mean it. And you know what? You're probably right. I am a blow-in. I did tell you that at the lighthouse.'

She picked up the tiramisu box and held it out to him. 'Thanks for this, but I don’t need a tiramisu that costs forty pounds. I think you should take it back. Give it to someone who deserves it. Someone local.'

Archie didn't take the box. He just stood there staring at her, then his jaw tightened and he took a step back. 'Fine. Have it your way.'

'I will.'