Second Chance With The Best Man. Katrina Cudmore
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up a small bronze figurine of a cat from the side table, she said, ‘That’s quite a turnaround from before.’ She lifted her gaze to study him. ‘You used to say that there was nothing here for you.’
‘Things change.’
‘But not people. They just reveal their true selves to you.’
‘I never—’
Regretting instantly the bitterness of her voice, that she’d revealed her upset with him, Hannah interrupted with a forced laugh, ‘You’re certainly putting my wedding present of a set of organic cotton bath towels into the shade with this villa.’
Laurent shook his head. ‘The infamous wedding list.’ Pausing, he gave a smile. ‘It has caused a lot of amusement amongst my parents’ friends.’
Hannah swallowed a giggle, imagining the other guests’ bewilderment at some of the items Lara and François had listed. ‘I think water filters, recycled furniture and garden equipment for their allotment are very practical gifts to ask for.’
Laurent’s eyebrow lifted. ‘My father had to explain to a friend of his who’s a guest at the wedding what a wormery is. Trust me, it was a very long telephone conversation.’
Hannah smiled, trying so hard to pretend that she was finding all this easy, a bittersweet thickness forming in her throat at how easily they fell back into their shared humour and banter.
Silence fell between them. Laurent’s smile receded. The room closed in around them. She looked away from him. But even then she felt the force of his gaze. Heat grew on her cheeks, a rumble of attraction stirred in her stomach and, when she glanced back at him, it exploded at the rigidity of his expression—his square jawline fixed, his dark thick brows drawn downwards, his mouth stern. She’d at first been drawn to his easy charm but it was this more private, serious-minded side of him—the responsible older brother who was so protective of his only sibling—this self-assured and professionally astute man she’d fallen in love with.
His jaw moved a fraction. The chemistry that had always been so strong, so potent between them was at work again.
She willed herself to walk away, to break the silence, regretting having come here.
His mouth tightened. The knot of fear and anticipation twisted even tighter in her stomach.
‘How have things been for you?’
She jolted in surprise at his question. His voice, as always, like warm honey trickling through her insides. For a moment she was about to answer in a similarly low intimate tone, but caught herself in time and instead, with a flourish of bonhomie that took even her by surprise, she walked away, pretending to inspect the books in the bookcase. ‘Great. I’ve been busy. Emily married late last autumn in Granada in Spain. We had a great week there—it really is a beautiful city and it was so nice for all of my family to have spent the time together.’ Her forced smile was replaced by a genuine one when she added, ‘And Cora had a little girl. She’s called Diana. She’s gorgeous. I’m totally smitten by her.’
Laurent smiled at her description. For the briefest moment, the old ease that had existed between them flared. Hannah was thrown; her smile faded, and disappeared altogether when she thought of her sisters’ happiness. She loved her sisters with all her heart and would never begrudge them anything...but faced with how content they were, how successfully they managed their personal lives, Hannah not only felt lonely but also doubted she would ever manage to achieve a similar happiness.
* * *
Laurent winced as the wistfulness in Hannah’s expression was replaced with an unsettling sadness. She wanted what her sisters had. Marriage, children, a united family. The things he could never give to her.
He gestured for her to follow him into the kitchen, a sudden urge to keep moving, to be distracted by doing things, taking hold. ‘Let me show you around. I had an interior designer manage the renovations and furnish the rooms but I could use your advice as to whether there are additional items Lara would like.’
Hannah walked around the island unit of the hand-painted kitchen, her gaze shifting out onto the garden and the river beyond. ‘Have they seen the villa since you redecorated?’
Earlier, when she’d asked why they were here, for a moment he’d been thrown by the fact that she didn’t know. Somehow it felt as though she should know everything that was happening in his life. ‘Not since their last visit. They had wanted to stay here before the wedding day but I told François that there was a problem with the electricity.’
‘When are you going to tell them?’
‘I’ll give them the key on their wedding day. They can spend their first night here together.’
The weariness in her expression faded and the warmth he’d so adored about her in London appeared. She gestured around her, towards the kitchen and then the garden outside. ‘Lara is going to be so happy. She has always wanted a garden of her own. Right now they only have their allotment and that’s miles away from their apartment.’ In this enthusiasm, her happiness for her friend, he realised how much he’d missed her. He missed this warmth, her laughter, her sheer presence.
Pointing towards a notebook hanging from the kitchen’s noticeboard, he said, ‘Take a look upstairs and note down anything you think I should get the interior designer to add.’ Then, backing towards the garden door that led out onto the newly laid patio, he added, ‘I need to check out some work that was carried out in the garden today.’
Outside, he walked across the stone patio—as he’d guessed, the contractor had done a good job—hating his need to get away from Hannah. From her smile. Hating the reality of what he’d walked away from.
He was standing on the riverside steps when she came out and joined him ten minutes later, handing him a bullet-point list in her neat and precise handwriting. She’d listed bathrobes, champagne, Belgian chocolates, decaffeinated coffee and a double hammock. He lifted an eyebrow at that last item.
Hannah laughed and gestured towards the giant willow. ‘It’d be fun for them if it was hung from the willow across to the boundary trees. I can see them lying there on their wedding night staring up at the stars before going to bed.’ Her voice trailed off and her gaze dropped down to the new wooden rowing boat that he’d asked his interior designer to organise.
Heat radiated from the stone of the river steps. There was a vague creaking noise as the overheated house and earth shifted in expansion. But the heat on Hannah’s cheeks, the heat in his belly, had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with her mention of bed. In London, they would meet after work sometimes in the city, other times he would meet Hannah off her train in Richmond if he’d been travelling that day, with the intention of having a drink or a meal, a visit to the theatre, but more often than not they would head directly home and into bed and only surface hours later to eat before tumbling back into bed until the following morning.
Hannah had always craved chocolate after they had made love. She had a particular love for dark chocolate straight from the fridge. ‘Do you still have an addiction to chocolate?’
Her head whipped around at his question, a spark of anger in her eyes. ‘I try to stay away from things that aren’t good for me these days.’
He forced himself to smile, knowing he deserved that comment.
She folded her arms, stared across the river towards the bank of poplars growing there. She bit her lip for a moment and paused in deep thought before saying, ‘Now I know what’s missing in the house—I couldn’t put my finger on it for a while—family photographs. You should get some framed and placed around the house to add a personal touch. I can send you some of Lara and her family.’ She paused and considered him. ‘You don’t think it’s a good idea?’
He rubbed the back of his neck and admitted, ‘I can’t remember the last time my family had a photo taken together.’
She grimaced. ‘Not with your dad being ill and everything.’