Wedding Bells at Butterfly Cove: A heartwarming romantic read from bestselling author Sarah Bennett. Sarah Bennett
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that a blush on Mrs Chivers’ cheeks? Mia found herself softening to the woman. Yes, she was an awkward customer, but there was a kind heart under there, too. She squeezed her arm gently. ‘I’m glad you’ve found happiness again.’
Mrs Chivers touched her cheek. ‘And you have, too, I hope, my dear?’
‘Yes. Yes, I have.’ A lump formed in her throat. If she wasn’t careful, she’d get all weepy again. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you in peace to enjoy your tea.’
Mrs Chivers gave her one more quick hug then let her go. Needing a few minutes to compose herself, Mia escaped down the path rather than returning to the house. The grey army had done an amazing job with the garden, and the flowerbeds were already bright with colour. The shrubs and bushes edging the garden shone with every shade of green, a verdant promise of more to come. Buddleia lined the back of the lawn, framing the steps which led to the beach. Mia paused, picturing them ripe with white and purple blossom, covered in dancing butterflies.
It would be the perfect backdrop for a late-summer wedding. Chairs on the lawn for guests during the ceremony and a barbeque on the beach afterwards. They could offer a package for couples wanting an intimate, more casual affair, and the harem suite would serve as an unusual wedding-night setting. Daniel might even be persuaded to take a couple of pictures, unique souvenirs of a special day.
Warmth enveloped her back, and his arms encircled her waist. ‘I’ve been watching you for the past five minutes. You’ve got that look on your face. What are you planning?’
She glanced over her shoulder and the look of eager expectation on his face bowled her over. Whatever mad scheme she came up with, he would be first in line to cheer her on.
Not soon. Now.
‘I’m thinking we could hold weddings here at Butterfly Cove. We’d have to give it a dry run ourselves, of course.’
The corners of Daniel’s mouth kicked up and he repeated the words he’d said to her just a few feet away on the beach, the first time they’d made love. ‘Mia Sutherland, are you asking me to marry you?’
‘Yes, Daniel Fitzwilliams, I most certainly am.’
The miles slipped past the window, grey urban sprawl giving way to longer and longer stretches of green fields as the train took them east to west from London to Somerset. It was the same route they used when travelling to stay with their friends in Butterfly Cove, and Aaron wished they were heading further south to that peaceful spot on the coast rather than their actual destination. Luke sat opposite him, head resting against the window, eyes closed as he nodded along to whatever he was listening to through his headphones. A study in relaxation, if you could ignore his fingers drumming against his thigh. Aaron swallowed a sigh. Going home shouldn’t feel like a duty, but he’d dodged every invitation since Christmas. Maybe Cathy would be too busy being the centre of attention to bother with him.
It wasn’t fair. And yes, that made him sound like a whiny little kid instead of a grown man of nearly thirty, but damn it, it wasn’t fair. He loved his dad, adored his brother and would have loved Cathy, too, if she’d let him, but the time for that was long past. He’d settle for friendship; hell, he’d settle for being politely ignored. Anything would be a respite from the smiling barbs and digs. Each time he crossed the threshold of the one place on earth he should feel safe and happy, he swore he wouldn’t rise to the bait. He’d be like Teflon and let it all just slide right off him. Shrug and smile, move past it and let Dad and Luke breathe easier.
His fingers clenched around the small box in his pocket. The sharp corners dug into his skin to the point of pain. He could tell himself a hundred times he didn’t care, that he didn’t need her approval, her affection, but it was a lie. The cost of the gold Pandora charm in the box proved it. How many times would he do this to himself? Memories flashed of homemade cards hidden behind others on the mantelpiece, of flowers purchased with preciously hoarded pocket money left to wilt without water. Then there was the jumper she’d admired in a shop window which somehow ended up with a hole in it the first time she wore it. All easily explained away as silly accidents, but somehow it only ever happened with gifts from Aaron.
A nudge to his foot startled him and he blinked the burn from his eyes. Luke stared at him across the little table between them, a deep furrow between his brows. His headphones were looped around his neck and faint, tinny music echoed from them. ‘You don’t have to keep doing this, you know.’ As much as he loved his mum, Luke was under no illusions about her animosity towards Aaron.
‘Yeah, I do.’
Luke shook his head. ‘You really are a glutton for punishment. Ah, sod that, let’s talk about something else. Are you going to tell Dad about the cottage?’
Ah yes, in just one week’s time he’d be the proud new owner of Honeysuckle Cottage. His offer had been half in jest. He’d assumed, once they’d had a chance to think about it, that Karen and Dave would put the property on the market. Orcombe’s location made it a prime destination for eager weekend commuters looking to escape city life. However, they’d settled for a quick, easy sale instead and, thanks to the miracle of two solicitors who had heeded their clients’ instructions about concluding the deal swiftly, they were in the final stages of exchanging. His investments had been cashed in for the deposit and he was the sole holder of an eye-watering mortgage. The monthly payments were less than his current rent, so it wasn’t like he’d overextended himself. It was just the overall figure that made his knees a bit wobbly.
It had been too good an opportunity to pass up and, if he changed his mind, he could do the place up and put it back on the market. ‘If I get some time alone with him, I will.’
Luke leaned forward to rest his arms on the table. ‘So, you can tell me to mind my own business, but how are you going to afford two places? The rent on my flat is sucking my will to live, along with the bulk of my salary.’
‘I’m giving up the flat.’ Saying it out loud, acknowledging the truth of what he’d been doing over the past few weeks, sent his stomach roiling. It wasn’t only his flat he’d given notice on.
His brother sat back in his seat. ‘You can’t be thinking of commuting from Orcombe every day.’ Aaron stayed silent, watching the thought process play out on Luke’s face. There was a reason he was crap at poker. ‘Oh.’ Luke glanced out of the window and back again. Red splotches sat high on his cheekbones and, when he spoke, there was a thread of anger in his tone. ‘So, when were you going to tell me?’
‘Come on, Spud, don’t be like that. I’ve barely got to grips with this myself.’ Aaron shrugged his shoulders, not liking the guilt weighing on them. Luke was a grown man, they had their own lives. He tugged at the collar of his shirt. ‘Is it me, or is it hot in here?’
Luke had chosen to study and then live in London in direct opposition to his mother’s wishes. There’d been tears and recriminations for weeks and his brother had faced it all with remarkable stoicism. He was the only person immune to Cathy’s attempts at manipulation, and the only one she would forgive anything. And, in his heart, Aaron knew Luke had chosen London to be near him, an open declaration of support and an enormous eff you to his mother. He owed him better than this. ‘I didn’t plan for this to happen, but the cottage was too good an opportunity to pass up, and I’ve been feeling out of sorts for a while.’
His brother scrubbed his face with his hands, like he was trying to erase the anger bubbling. ‘What will you do for work?’
Aaron shrugged. ‘I’ll try and increase my freelance stuff, take a financial advisor’s course to expand my range. It’s a prime area for older people and those looking to retire, and with all the changes the government’s been making to pensions, there’s a market for it. I might even look at mortgage brokering in time. If going independent doesn’t pan out, then I’ll look for an accountancy firm in the area.’ That was his least-preferred choice, but at least his qualifications