When I see Rohan again, he’s walked halfway down the beach, far away from the party and noise and people. He’s sitting on a rock with a beer bottle dangling from his fingers, although it looks like he’s picking the label off it rather than drinking it.
He looks a million miles away and I’m not sure if I should disturb him or just leave him be, but the knowledge that we can’t stay here much longer and this pretence will be over in a few days propels me forward.
‘You’re the hero of the hour, Ro. Why’re you hiding out here?’
He looks up, blinking like I’ve surprised him out of a trance. Even so, he smiles when I go and stand next to him and Puffin jumps up at his feet for a tickle under the chin.
‘Would you rather I left you alone?’
He reaches out and tucks my straight hair behind my ear. ‘Anyone else? Yes. You? No.’
It makes me feel warm and fluttery inside as I lean on the rock he’s sitting on and nudge my elbow against his thigh. ‘You okay?’
He leans down and kisses me, just a soft press of his lips against mine, but it never fails to surprise me when he does that because it feels so natural. We’re far enough away from the reception that no one could see us so it’s not even like he has to do it for show.
Then he wraps his arms around me and hugs me to him.
Neither of us speaks for a long while. We just stand there cuddling and something settles inside me, and I ache for how much I wish this could be real.
‘What’s wrong?’ I whisper, muffled against his neck as I tuck my face in under his chin and breathe in his aftershave. ‘You’re not really upset because you could’ve let the church of no-divorces prove itself wrong after all this time, are you?’
‘Hah. No. Just…’ he throws a hand out towards the party we’ve left behind ‘…all this, I guess. It’s too much.’
‘Well, you picked a good hiding spot. I only found you because Puffin followed your scent.’ I don’t add that his aftershave is too hot for words and the scent has become so familiar that I probably could’ve found him from the other side of the island too.
Ro looks down at the dog and smiles. ‘Wanna go for a walk?’
Puffin jumps up and spins in circles, and Rohan pulls away from me and gets down off the rock. He puts his full beer bottle down in the sand and holds his hand out to me. ‘Coming?’
‘I couldn’t let my fiancé walk alone on a beach in the dark,’ I say. ‘You might fall into a rock pool or trip over a dead jellyfish or something.’
‘Yeah, I seem to remember you being worried I might fall off the cliffs on the first day. You worry about me too much and I… kind of like it,’ he says with a smile.
Instead of holding hands, he offers me his arm and I slip my hand through it, loving the way he squeezes it against his ribs and holds it there. I keep hold of Puffin’s lead and we wander down the beach, leaving the reception party far behind us.
‘I think Amy’ll get over it quick enough,’ I say, realising in that instant that Rohan was right. She wasn’t happy in the restaurant the other night. She put on a good show, but that’s exactly what it was – a show, while her husband-to-be giggled at someone sending him text messages and ogled waitresses.
Is that the best we can hope for? Is that all there is? Maybe Rohan’s been right about everything else too. Maybe love and marriage are best avoided at all costs. ‘I’m glad she didn’t let the reception go to waste. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.’
‘Oh yeah, it’s great.’ He fakes a laugh. ‘It’s an unmitigated disaster. Everyone’s pretending to be happy while really being horrified, and if they’re not second-guessing their own spouse’s fidelity then they’re trying to find room in their own loved-up smugness to feel desperately sorry for Amy. The pitying looks are the worst, believe me. I’ve been to a non-reception before. Didn’t think I’d ever end up at another one.’
In my head, the final puzzle piece slots into place. ‘Was it yours?’
‘What?’
‘The non-reception. Was it yours?’
He looks at me like I’ve just told him I live on Mars. ‘How do you know that?’
‘What you said about having a father-in-law but not being married, the irrational hatred of weddings, the “wouldn’t we all” earlier… Mainly the look on your face when I saw you sitting on that rock just now.’
He doesn’t say anything.
‘I want to ask you if you need to talk about it, but it sounds like I’m digging for information and I’m not.’ I squeeze his arm. ‘I just want you to know you’re not alone tonight.’
‘The weird thing is I want to tell you.’ He sighs and pushes a hand through his hair as Puffin tugs us down towards the sea. ‘I never tell anyone. Everyone I knew was there, watching it happen in full HD, technicolour slow motion, and if I meet someone who doesn’t know, I never tell them. I haven’t ever said it out loud.’
I don’t know what else to say so I squeeze his arm again so tightly I’m probably cutting off the circulation.
‘Six years ago, I stood at the altar of a church waiting for my fiancée to walk down the aisle and she didn’t turn up, and neither did my best man.’
‘They were together?’ I say in surprise.
‘Yep. And her father knew. He was the groom in the column we argued about. That was why I went too far. He had known what she was up to behind my back, but he kept it to himself because he didn’t think I was good enough for her and he thought I deserved to be publicly humiliated for thinking I was. So he knew all along, and you know how I found out? They tagged me in a photo on Facebook a couple of days later. Their wedding photo.’
‘She married him instead of you?’
‘Yep,’ he says, clearly trying to sound impassive, but his voice is shaking.
‘Oh my God, Ro. I’m so—’
‘It’s all right, you don’t have to do the whole “I’m sorry” thing. It was a long time ago, and like Amy, I’d had my suspicions and thought getting married would fix whatever was wrong, and surprisingly didn’t realise it wouldn’t until I’d been standing there for an hour and the vicar took me aside and politely suggested it might be time to give up.’
‘That’s terrible. Ro, I’m…’ I look up at him but he stays resolutely focused on Puffin walking ahead of us. The sand is wet underfoot where the waves have been and our feet sink as we walk. I squeeze his arm again, knowing there aren’t enough words in the world to tell him how sorry I am. ‘What did you do?’
‘Got so drunk I can’t remember?’
I shouldn’t laugh but the way he phrases it as a question makes me chuckle. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at—’
He laughs too. ‘It’s okay. All I know is that I somehow ended up at the reception, there was a wedding cake and a large knife and the wedding cake didn’t make it out alive. And then there was a very large bill for destruction of property so evidently some parts of the venue didn’t survive either.’
It makes me smile again, the way he uses humour to make light of it.
‘And then I shut myself in my house and… I don’t know. Festered, I guess. Decayed. Pushed everyone away, saw the bad side of everything, drank too much. One night, I’d had way too much to drink and I opened my laptop, used a false name, and started ranting about all the preparation my wife had done for the wedding only to not turn up. I woke up the next morning with my face smashed against the keyboard, six views of what I’d written, and a comment from someone who said he hadn’t read anything as honest or funny in years.’
‘That’s how you started as R.C. Art?’
‘Yeah. I started a blog and people gradually started following it. The angrier and more controversial my posts were, the more followers I gained, and the more comments I got agreeing with me. I was working in a packaging factory at the time but I didn’t so much lose my job as just not turn up for weeks. It was six years ago and I’ve still never officially been sacked. I often wonder if I should turn up and clock in one day just to see if anyone notices. After the non-wedding, the only time I left my sofa was to answer the door to the supermarket delivery man bringing me more vodka, but the blog gave me something to focus on.’
I hug his arm and lean over to press my lips against his shoulder because it’s the only part I can reach. He’s always so bright and funny. Nothing ever seems to rattle him, and I hate the thought of him being in that state.
‘When The Man Land emailed and asked if I’d be interested in serialising my blog in their mag, I couldn’t agree fast enough. They posted one in each month’s issue, and readers liked it so they offered me a monthly column.’
When we reach the water’s edge, Ro unclips Puffin’s lead, but the dog doesn’t run off, he stays trotting in front of us as waves lap around our bare feet, seemingly happy just to be with Rohan.
‘And now you do it for a living and you love it,’ I say. ‘That’s like Amabel. Something good that came from something bad.’
‘How can you say that’s something good? You hate me. You hate what I write. If I write this article well enough, you’re likely to lose your job.’
‘Well, if I write mine well enough, you’re going to lose yours.’ I give his arm an extra squeeze. ‘And I don’t hate you. I don’t always agree with what R.C. Art writes, but you and he are not the same person.’
‘Er… I hate to break it to you, Bon…’
I smack his shoulder gently. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘I really don’t.’
I look up at his face, wondering if I’ve pushed him too far already, wondering if he’s even admitted it to himself, let alone to me. ‘I think R.C. Art is just a way of protecting yourself. I think you’re sweet, kind, and vulnerable, and you can’t bear the thought of letting anyone hurt you again. You use the name and the vicious, sarcastic humour to make yourself seem unavailable, but inside, you just want someone to see that. You want someone to love you but you’re terrified of letting anyone.’
‘How could I ever trust anyone again?’ he snaps, and I can almost see his walls being bricked up even higher.
I swallow hard, absolutely certain I’m about to say the wrong thing. ‘Maybe a better question would be how can you spend the rest of your life never trusting anyone? I know you think you’re keeping yourself safe, but all you’re really keeping yourself is alone.’
He looks at me and instead of the sharp sarcastic comment I expected, he sighs. ‘Go on then. As the believer in love and the expert on happily ever afters, what would you say to me? Let me guess… I just haven’t found “the one” yet?’
‘Kind of.’ I bite my lip as I look up at him, trying to stop myself pulling him down into a hug and just holding him tight. ‘Not in that patronising way that you hate though. I want to say I can’t imagine how much it hurt you, but I can because you’re still hurting and that comes across in everything you do. But no matter how many times you say otherwise, you’re gentle, and empathic, and loving, and I honestly believe that one day you’re going to fall so hard for someone and nothing that came before will matter. Just because one person hurt you doesn’t mean they all will.’
He swallows hard and pulls me against him. He bends, slides his arms around my waist, and lifts me up. I loop my arms around his neck and hold on as he cuddles me close.
‘I love your eternal optimism,’ he whispers into my neck, his lips brushing my skin, making me feel like I’ve just got off one of those spinning fairground rides.
‘It’s not about optimism, Ro. It wasn’t love or marriage that did that to you. It was just one person. Well, two people. Two people who didn’t deserve you. If you get hit by a bus, you don’t automatically assume that every bus from then on is going to hit you.’
‘No, but you’d stop walking near bus lanes.’
I sigh at his dismissive sarcasm. ‘Have you dated anyone since?’
‘No. Well-meaning friends have tried to set me up on pity dates but I’m not interested. At our age, people are looking to settle down, get married, and have kids, and I’ll never trust anyone enough for that. I don’t ever want to be in another relationship, not even a casual one, so what’s the point in dating? Maybe a fake engagement to you is the best thing I can ever do. I’ve been happier pretending to be engaged to you on this island than I have been in six years. Maybe this is the future for me – just pretend to be engaged until everyone leaves me alone, then grow old and die without even a dog to eat my rotting carcass.’
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry as he puts me down. His sarcasm covers much more than he’s letting on.
‘You should get a dog.’ I slip my arm through his and squeeze it again. ‘And not just to eat your corpse. You love dogs. Don’t tell me you’re not head-over-heels in love with Puffin.’
‘Nah. A dog deserves better than me.’
‘Ro…’ My throat tightens and tears spring to my eyes. In that one sentence, Rohan answers every question I’ve ever had about him.
He pulls me back against his chest and wraps his arms around me. ‘See, I knew this would happen if I told you. It’s enough to stop anyone believing in love.’
‘I’m not crying because you don’t believe in love, I’m crying because you don’t believe in yourself, you idiot. You don’t even think you’re worthy of a dog’s love.’
‘I’m no—’
I reach up and clamp my hand over his mouth. ‘You’re a good guy, no matter how much you try to convince everyone, including yourself, that you’re not. Have you seen Paul walking Puffin around the island? He can barely get him to walk. He just sits down and refuses to move. But he’s trotting along quite happily with us. Even when you let him off his lead, he’s happy just to walk along next to you. He loves you, Rohan, and any other dog would too.’
He pulls away from me. ‘Stop it, Bonnie. Please. I don’t want to hear it.’
‘Well, you’re going to.’ I grab his arm and pull him around to face me as a deeper wave splashes up my shins. I fold my arms over my chest. ‘You’re going to because it’s got nothing to do with dogs. No one’s ever made you feel like you’re worth loving, have they? The last person who did was cheating on you. Even your parents when you were young, they were so caught up in their own problems that you were an afterthought. Even now, their lingering issues still affect you—’
‘No, they don’t.’
‘Your mum doesn’t even know where you work! Your parents think you’re a postman, Rohan. That’s not right.’
‘I’m protecting them. I don’t want my family and friends to know how much it affected me. They were all so worried about me after the non-wedding and I pushed them away. I use a pseudonym and I don’t tell anyone what I do because I don’t want them to know how much it wrecked me. I can’t bear the thought of my ex and her husband looking me up online and seeing how bitter and twisted I’ve become. I don’t want my mum and dad to read what I write and blame themselves for screwing me up for life.’
I want to hug him more than anything else in the world. I want to shake him and ask him why he can’t see how nice that is. Even in his darkest times, he’s still worrying about his parents, but it just seems so wrong that it’s his own feelings he’s protecting them from.
‘See?’ I say quietly. ‘Your words say one thing but your actions say another. From the very first second we met, you noticed I was shivering and offered me your coat. You’re kind and thoughtful, Ro, and you deserve someone to see that and make sure you—’
He kisses me.
I barely have time to react before his arms encircle me, one holding my lower back, one brushing against my jaw. My arms are still folded and pressed against his chest and we both groan at the distance it puts between us while I untangle them and loop them around his neck, my fingers winding into his hair, pulling him closer.
It’s not like any kiss we’ve shared before. It’s like a release, like everything we’ve both been thinking and feeling comes flooding out, all the things we’ve skirted around and haven’t dared to say. It’s hard and hot and probably the closest two people can come to having sex with their clothes on in a public place. Other kisses have been for the benefit of any islanders who might be watching, but this is the kind of kiss that I’d die of embarrassment if anyone saw.
My knees have given out and Ro is literally holding me up. My fingers are digging into his shoulders like claws, and I’m not sure if I’m still crying or moaning with pleasure now. Ro sinks to his knees, taking me down with him, lowering me onto the wet sand, and I squeal into the kiss as cold waves seep up my back.
He lies beside me, half on top of me, a hand on either side of my head, and my whole body is tingling with the anticipation of what comes next, a thrill I haven’t felt in so long buzzing through me. I close my eyes and arch my neck as his mouth is on mine again, my moans swallowed up by him as the shallow waves lap around us, soaking my dress, sand and seawater in my hair.
‘God, Ro,’ I gasp when we part for air.
He’s smiling, that dazed soppy grin on his face when I open my eyes. He leans down and kisses me once. ‘If only we weren’t in a public place right now…’
I’m gasping for breath as I try to calm down. I’d completely forgotten we were still on the beach, forgotten how cold the sea is in the night at this time of year, forgotten Puffin who’s sitting beside us in the waves, watching on and wagging his curly tail. Everything but Rohan disappears from my head when he’s kissing me, including possible arrest for public indecency, obviously.
I laugh and thump my head back against the wet sand. My fingers are cramped from clinging on to him so tightly and I unfurl them and flex my hand to get movement back. ‘Don’t know about you but I need a cold shower.’
‘Definitely.’ He laughs, his forehead resting against mine. ‘I also think we should stay here for a bit longer. There’s no way my legs will support moving yet.’
‘I think that’s a good plan, especially as I’m relying on you to get me up.’
The smile he gives me is so wide and I love the sight of that smile. I reach up and cup his cheeks with sandy hands. ‘Ro…’
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. ‘I need to say something, Bon…’
I think I actually stop breathing as he takes a few long, slow breaths, trying to work himself up. I can feel tremors going through him where we’re touching, and I’m shivering too, unsure if it’s from the closeness, the anticipation, or wet sand at my back and cold waves splashing around us.
‘You say all these nice things about me but I can’t even be honest with you.’ He leans down and kisses my cheek, his barely there stubble making me shiver for an altogether different reason. ‘I didn’t say what I meant earlier. When I said we should continue this on the mainland. I didn’t mean as a pretend couple. I meant that I want to see you again. I joked before about taking you out on a date to show you how it’s done, but I don’t want to do it as a joke. I want to take you out on proper dates, and if I’m honest, the thought of you dating someone else makes me want to punch him in his hypothetical face before he even exists. And I know you want to get married and start a family, and I know I’m not what you want, and that’s not what I want, and we’re complete opposites, but…’ He takes a deep breath. ‘I feel like I’ll regret it for ever if I walk away. I just want to see you outside of here, back in real life. Maybe it won’t work out and Edelweiss Island is just the place for us, and back at home we’ll realise it’ll never work, but it’s been so many years since I felt… I’m rambling, aren’t I?’
‘A little bit.’ I lean up and kiss him. ‘But it’s adorable rambling.’
‘I’m not what you want. I’m no Prince Charming. I don’t want to get married. I don’t—’
‘Do you honestly think it’s about a wedding?’
‘You love weddings, Bon. You want to get married.’
‘Yeah, I love weddings, but it’s about what they represent. They represent two people being so in love that they want to spend the rest of their lives together. The church, the white dress, the flowers, the reception… that’s all just superficial. I don’t want to be with someone because we both want to get married. I want to be with someone who wants to spend the rest of their life with me.’ I pull back and look him in the eyes. ‘Someone I could fall in love with.’
He smiles and kisses me again before pushing himself back onto his knees and getting to his feet. He holds a hand out and pulls me up as Puffin woofs at us to get a move on. I cling on to Ro’s arm and savour each shiver of delight as he leans down to steal another kiss. Or eight.