Total pages in book: 221
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
“I should have joined you in there,” I laugh.
“If you’d have joined me we’d have never got out of here. I’d have been fucking you right through the afternoon.”
He plants a wet kiss on my cheek before grabbing jeans and a shirt from his wardrobe. It’s lovely to feel so wanted with every glance, like I’m a supermodel walking down a catwalk, not a Malvern wedding planner in jeans and a sweater.
“Ready to go?” he asks, and I nod, genuinely excited. The terror of the looming night ahead can leave me alone until it’s due.
As always, Anthony Bradstone doesn’t disappoint me. He takes a route around the hills, with the view below us stretching wide. I’ve never taken these roads before since they are so winding and off the main track, but he speeds around them with ease. He’s a great driver, but that’s no revelation. He’s great at everything.
I expect some kind of local site or attraction to be on his to-do list for the day, but he joins the motorway outside of Much Arlock and heads down south on the open road. I have no idea where we could be going. The options are endless.
“Going to let me in on the secret destination now?” I ask, but he shakes his head.
“Not a chance. You can play guess the location all the way.”
We’ve been driving quite a while before he indicates to turn off the motorway, and when I see the signs for Devon my heart does a leap. No way. “Are we going to the coast?” I ask and he grins.
“Maybe.”
“You’re taking me to the seaside?!”
“I might well be. You’ve told me plenty of times how much you love the beach.”
I remember one time in particular – about me wanting to see little kids of mine playing with buckets and spades on the sand, but there must have been other times when I’ve been drunk. Plenty of them. He’s right. I do love the beach.
I should’ve guessed it from his genius worthy memory. He’s taking me to Westward Ho! I went there once on holiday with Mum, Dad and Sarah when I was about ten. We were splashed by a huge wave that slammed into the rocks and drenched us over the sea wall. I always light up when I talk about it.
“You know where we’re going now, don’t you?” Ant asks, and I nod.
“To the beach with the splashing sea.”
“Bingo,” he laughs. “I thought you’d like another visit. Maybe the waves are nice and rough again. I can get splashed with you.”
He’s staring ahead at the road when I turn to face him, so blown away by his gesture that I could cry. He’s so ridiculously attentive, so loving, so… everything. He must sense my gaze because he shoots me a glance.
“You happy?”
I nod. “I’m the happiest woman in the world.”
“Good. That makes me the happiest man in the world,” he replies.
It feels like barely five seconds have passed when we pull into the beach arcade. I’m practically leaping out of the car as soon as he’s parked up, desperate to get to the beach front. Ant doesn’t even try to be gentlemanly with the door opening this time, just grins and locks up the car before dashing along with me, grabbing hold of my hand on the way.
“Let’s go check out those waves you were talking about.”
They won’t disappoint him. The sea here is insanely powerful, and the tide is almost in. I get a strange rush of happiness and pride as his face lights up at the sea wall.
“Wow, Cass, you weren’t lying. This place is incredible. I can’t wait to bring our kids here with their buckets and spades one day.” He pauses to laugh. “We’ll just have to make sure it’s when the tide’s out, or we’ll all be washed out to sea.”
I should be staring at the crashing waves like he is, but I can’t. His face is way more captivating than the view.
Our kids.
He really is planning to have kids with me, and I struggle to believe it. I wonder who our children would look the most like. Me or him? I only hope they have his gorgeous green eyes.
I lean in to kiss his cheek, but he sees me coming and turns, planting his lips against mine. I wrap my arms around his neck, hoping the strength in my hug will tell him more than words can say. It must work, because he sighs an amazing sigh.
“I love you, baby,” he whispers. “I love you more than I’ve loved anyone in my life. Nobody else has ever come close to you. Nobody else has ever come close to loving me the way you do.”
My sensations are a double-edged sword – on one hand loving the privilege of being that important a person to him, on the other realising again just how alone he must have been before I came along.