Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
The water doesn’t feel too cold at first. We step forward just as it’s sweeping away from us, leaving behind a thin sheet of water I tap with my toes before it finally disappears too.
“Watch out.” Vincent pulls me back as a large wave approaches. It crashes a couple of meters in front of us, but the water races toward us faster and higher than the last one did. This one comes up to mid-calf and it’s chillier than I expected.
“You’re going to get wet,” I say, smiling giddily at Vincent.
He shrugs. “Worth it to watch you smile like this.”
I hold his gaze and feel the water rising up to my knees. Vincent’s jeans are wet, but he doesn’t seem to care.
“Careful, you’ll have me swooning.” I’m not going to tell him so, but Vincent makes a semi-regular habit of making me swoon. He’s so thoughtful. So kind. So good.
“That’s the thing, Kate. There’s something about you that makes me want to be anything but careful.”
He bends and picks something up from the sand. “Here,” he says, handing me a smooth gray stone. “You should have a memento from your first trip to the beach.”
I take the stone and glance at my palm. Somehow its dark grey edges have been shaped into a heart and white shards of quartz, like lightning bolts, stretch across it, buried into the stone like it was only meant to stay for a moment but never left. “Did you plant this here?” I ask.
“I just found it, but it’s beautiful.” He looks at me, and the weight of meaning folds around my shoulders like a cloak.
I turn to him and lift up on my tiptoes. He graciously bends so I can kiss him. The waves push and pull beneath us as we slide our lips and tongues together in a kiss that seems more earnest, more important than everything that’s come before. I can taste the sea on his skin, feel the salt in his hair. It’s like he and this place are a symbol of the world outside of Crompton, of a life beyond the one I’ve been so content to live until now.
This man…what brought him into my life? The universe? Nature? Time?
Whatever it was, I’m grateful.
THIRTY-ONE
Vincent
Running at Crompton is a newfound passion. And in the heat of the summer, the only time to run is the mornings. I’ve settled into a routine of sorts where I get up with Kate when she leaves to go back to her place at around five. At that hour, the air is still cool and fresh, and I get the entire place to myself. No gardeners. No tourists. The flower gardens will close at the end of the summer season in two weeks, and they won’t reopen until they’re relocated to the edge of the hotel property.
But today is the last morning of my routine. Today I move out because demolition is starting and the foundations for the extensions are being dug. I’m staying over the pub for a few days before a property in the village becomes available. Molly arranged it all. I haven’t even seen the new place. I’m heading back to the house, spinning through ideas for where I’ll run tomorrow, when I see someone up ahead. As I get closer, I recognize Basil. He’s up early.
“Good morning, Basil.”
He stands from where he was kneeling on the ground and tips his hat at me. “I heard you wanted the jasmine from the front of the house removed. I thought I’d do it early so I don’t disturb people coming and going.”
“That’s very considerate of you, Basil.”
“Oops,” he says, spotting a stray leaf. He bends and scoops it from the gravel then straightens, closing his eyes. “The first yellow leaf. Autumn is on its way. It always starts here by the house,” he says. “You never need a calendar at Crompton, sir. You just need to pay attention to what the estate tells you.” He nods. “But you’ll find that out for yourself over the years.”
Instinctively, I start to say I won’t be here over the years. I stop myself because I don’t actually know when I’m leaving. We’ve had planning permission. We’ve appointed the main contractor. Michael is working together with the project manager and will be leading the workstream heads. Everything is running on rails.
I’m not needed here.
So what am I doing? Why am I staying?
Everything feels so comfortable.
Having my family nearby.
Kate.
It all feels good—too good.
I like it here. I’m getting attached. This is not what was meant to happen. I don’t get attached. To anything or anyone. Ever. That’s how my life is. That’s how I survive.
“I guess so,” I reply and then point my thumb at the house. “Gotta take a shower. Catch up with you later.”
I take the stairs with thoughts tunneling through my brain.