After we’ve cleared away breakfast and washed up, we head outside.
His Landcruiser is in the driveway, but Josh disappears into the wooden shed beside the house, so I follow him. What I find inside surprises me. It’s like I’ve just stepped into a mechanic’s workshop, complete with a range of cars of varying makes and models. One is raised off the ground whilst another is missing its doors and wheels.
“You like cars,” I say, still looking around the extensive setup.
“I do. It’s another of my hobbies, I guess.” He waves his arm around the shed. “Dad and I used to restore old cars together, then sell them for profit. I still tinker with it.”
“I feel like I misjudged you somehow,” I say.
“What do you mean?”
“You said I’m an enigma. I’d say you’re the one full of surprises.”
“You’re just not asking the right questions.” He winks at me, then walks to the back where racks of tyres and various spare parts are kept. He finds what he’s looking for and returns to where I’m still standing holding a metal can.
“I really chose the right place to break down, didn’t I?”
He laughs. “I like to think so.”
We stop in at the service station, then return to my car. Maybe forgetting to fill up with fuel on the way here was fate intervening. Who knows?
We return to the house and I grab my spare jacket from the backseat before jumping back into Josh’s car for the trip into town.
“I can’t believe this has been practically on my doorstep for the past five years, and I’ve never been here,” I say as we weave our way through stunning scenery.
“I love it out here, but I love the contrast of the city, so I’m grateful I get to spend plenty of time there, too,” he says. I turn back to face him. “I’m lucky I get to have the best of both worlds.”
“Do you think your mum will stay in that big house forever?”
He nods, but even from the side, I can see the sadness flash across his features. His hands grip the steering wheel just a little tighter, and his shoulders bunch up slightly. He worries about his mother so much, and I find it endearing. I’m also struck with a pang of guilt that I don’t miss my mother. I never shed a tear when I left her and everyone I’d ever known behind, and I rarely spare her a thought. Does that make me a monster?
“She clings to that house as if her connection to Dad depends on it.” He glances at me briefly before returning his focus to the road ahead. “I don’t think it’s healthy.”
“What do you mean?”
He takes a deep breath and then sighs. “She’s no longer living.”
I pause to process what he’s saying. I wonder about her life before she lost her husband. “What did your father do for a job?”
“He was an investment banker for one of the big firms in the city.”
“How did your parents meet?”
He smiles. “Childhood sweethearts.”
“Sounds like they were really happy together.”
“They were.” He shakes his head. “It is an absolute tragedy that he was taken away from her when they had their whole retirement planned out. They were best friends.”
“He sounds like he was a great man.”
“My dad had the best work ethic of anyone I’ve ever known, but he had his priorities straight.” Josh’s Adam’s apple bobs as he focuses on the road ahead. This is obviously a tough topic for him. “His wife and kids were everything to him, and he never let Mum down. She was an amazing mother and supportive wife, but she knew if things got overwhelming for her at home, she could call him and he’d be there.” He glances at me again briefly. “He was a real man.”
“Something tells me you’re a lot like your dad.”
We stop at a red light where he can look at me properly. “All I’ve ever wanted to be is someone both my parents could be proud of.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. Josh and I couldn’t have had a more different childhood. “I’ve only met your mum once, but she spoke so highly of you.”
The light turns green, and we cross the intersection before Josh speaks again. “She’s my rock, and I just try to be the best son I can possibly be to her.”
“Tell me about how you came to teach art therapy.”
“I was good at art in high school,” he says, glancing briefly at me. “But I never considered it to be a career. As you know, Dad died a few years after I finished school. I sketched him in such detail so I could remember, and it became a type of therapy for me. Every day for months, I’d draw something that reminded me of him. It was something tangible and completely personal. I allowed my grief to bleed out of me onto the paper, and it helped.”
“You studied art so you could help others?”
“Initially it was to help myself, but I found teaching so rewarding and decided I could make the grief I experienced mean something.”
I reach out and touch his upper arm, needing to make physical contact with this beautiful man. “I think what you’re doing is incredible.”
“My life was something out of some goddamn fairy tale. Parents together and happy, no financial worries, good friends, and good health.” He glances down at my hand on him and smiles, meeting my eyes. “I knew Dad wouldn’t want any of us to stop living because he died, so everything I do now is because I will always strive to be even half the man he was.” He nods as we pass a sign. “This is it. Clare, one of my best friends, makes candles and sells them here, so I like to come to support her.” He says her name with great affection, and I’m intrigued to meet her.
The markets are held in the grounds of the local primary school. Josh parks the car and we climb out. The vendors appear to be in the final stages of setup, and there aren’t many people here yet.
“Do you feel like another coffee?” Josh asks. “Looks like it doesn’t open until ten.”
“Why not?” I say, smiling. “Do you know somewhere good?”
“Come on,” he says, nodding enthusiastically. “There’s someone else I’d love you to meet.”
We walk down the street to a row of shops, and Josh leads me into The Coffee Press, a bookshop that I quickly discover is also a café when I draw in a deep breath. The smell is heavenly. Ground coffee beans, hot chocolate, and books—an intoxicating combination of indulgence, addiction, and stories begging to be devoured. I glance around the shop, taking in the bookshelves. There is no one style of furniture that I can make out. Every set of shelves, each table and even each chair is different, but somehow the eclectic mix works perfectly. The owner has managed to blend styles, eras, and colours to make a cosy and welcoming ambience that would absolutely encourage patrons to stay.
“Hey, Jane. Is Todd here?” Josh asks the girl behind the coffee machine.
“You just missed him.” She cocks her head in the direction of the door. “He’s helping Clare set up her stall. Should be back soon though.”
“Okay. Thanks. Can I grab a flat white and long black please?”
I smile. “You remembered what coffee I like.” He shrugs as if it’s nothing. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“I might just browse the bookshelves.” I run my finger along the undulating spines on the shelf closest to me.
Continuing my perusal, I stop at the small sports section. A book catches my eye, one I’ve seen before, a long time ago. I pull it out carefully and hold it reverently in my hands, trying to push down the emotion bubbling out of me at the sight of something so nostalgic.
“You like fishing?” Josh asks, looking over my shoulder.
I glance down at the book’s cover that has a man kissing a fish on it. “I gave this book as a gift to my best friend when he turned eleven. I can’t believe your friend has it here.”
“Catch and Kiss? That’s an absolute classic.” He chuckles. “Todd’s father is a keen fisherman, so he always stocks a few fishing books in case he ever visits.” He gives me a sad smile. “He never visits.”
I clutch the book to my chest and recall the day I gave it to Ki. We’d been friends for more than a year by then, and I wanted to get him something but only had a few dollars made up mostly of five and ten-cent pieces. I’d been to the bookstore and found nothing below ten dollars, but then one day I passed a house having a garage sale in their front yard. I noticed a box labelled ‘Books’ so I rummaged through, looking for something I thought Ki would like. Catch and Kiss jumped out at me because of the man kissing the fish. Gross, I’d thought. I look at Josh and smile but try to school my mouth into a straight line. He’d just told me about his friend’s estranged father.
“Josh Holland,” a man’s voice calls out, but I can’t see him. “Get that mighty fine arse over here.”
Well, that was a strange greeting, and I can’t help the chuckle that escapes my lips. Josh groans.
A tall, lean man who I would guess is the same age as Josh appears from the other side of a bookshelf. He is immaculately attired in slim-fitting jeans, a white collared shirt, a tweed waistcoat, and a bow tie. Opening his arms as he approaches, he lunges forward. Despite Josh having a much bulkier frame than Todd, he is swallowed up by this man’s enthusiastic embrace. After a few moments, I start to wonder if he’ll ever let him go as he rests his cheek on Josh’s shoulder. He obviously has great affection for him, and it seems it’s mutual.
“Okay, okay,” Josh says. “That’s enough now.” In good humour, he pushes Todd back and puts his arm around my shoulders, and I lean into him. “This is my friend, Emerson. Emerson, this is my friend, Todd.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking his outstretched hand.
“Absolute pleasure to meet you, Emerson. It’s about time Joshy here introduced me to a woman. I was going to start thinking I had a shot at him.” He laughs with such gusto, and I can’t help but join in.
Josh groans, rolling his eyes, but his smile is genuine.
“I was just helping Clare,” Todd says, walking back to the coffee machine. He shakes his head. “She always gets so stressed before the market, and I have no idea why. She sells out every time.”
“Clare’s Todd’s twin sister,” Josh explains, ushering me forward towards the few tables set up along the back wall.
“You have a beautiful shop, Todd.”
Todd’s chest puffs up, and his eyes glimmer behind the frameless glasses. “Thank you, my love. You’re looking at my three favourite things right here,” he says, winking as Jane deposits my flat white down in front of me and the long black in front of Josh.
“Three? I’m thinking books and coffee . . . but what’s the third?”
Todd throws Josh a cheeky glance. “Hot men!” He throws his arms up in the air and laughs.
It feels so good to laugh, and I realise suddenly how little I have done so in the past five years. Despite the pang of guilt I experience that I’m here having a great time with two men who aren’t Mereki, I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to return to the city and face my lonely reality. Refusing to allow myself to ruin this beautiful morning, I push all depressing thoughts to the back of my mind and live in the moment. Another thing I haven’t done in way too long.
“How do you know each other?” I ask, sipping on my coffee.
Josh looks at Todd, then back at me. “We went to school together, then when I moved out here, they visited regularly and eventually made the move themselves.”
“Josh helped both Clare and me get our businesses started two years ago. We joke around a lot together, but he’s the best person in the world, and we’d do anything for him to pay back his generosity.”
“Oh stop,” Josh says with a huff. “Free coffees and candles for my mum. We’re square.”
Todd looks me in the eye and shakes his head slightly. “This guy is way too modest. A blind man could see the chemistry between the two of you lovebirds, so you hold on to him and don’t let go.” He pats Josh on the shoulder. “He’s one of the really good ones.”
I look at Josh, and he stays silent. I bite my bottom lip, knowing I shouldn’t feel so good about what Todd said, so I bite down harder.
“If you’re done with your coffee, shall we go meet Clare?” Josh asks.
I nod. “Let’s go.”
“Dinner at the pub tonight?” Todd asks as he picks up our empty cups and saucers.
Josh looks to me and raises his eyebrows. “What do you think? Interested in a pub meal for dinner?”
I shrug. “Sure. Why not?”
“Fabulous,” Todd says, putting his arm around my shoulder and escorting me back through his shop, leaving Josh to trail behind us. “See you at seven.” He wraps me in a hug and kisses my cheek. “Great to meet you, Emerson.”
“Thanks for the coffee,” I say, smiling. I’m genuinely happy I’ll get to see him again.
Josh and I walk back to the market, and I notice the increase in cars and people. The markets are now in full swing, and I can’t wait to check them out.
“Why didn’t you tell Todd we’re not together?” I ask as we walk past the first stall without hesitation—baby clothes.
“Why didn’t you?”
It’s my turn to remain silent, knowing he has a point. When Josh stops at a stand selling a range of salts, I keep walking.
“Local honey,” a woman calls out, gaining my attention. “Would you like to try some local honey?”
“Yes, please,” I say, walking over to her stand. I place the tasting spoon in my mouth. “Mmmm. Honey is one of those things I always try to buy from markets. It tastes so much better than the highly-processed stuff you buy in stores.”
“I believe you,” he says, but his eyes are on my lips. I turn away. “How many are you going to buy?”
“Two,” I say. “It’s only me, so I really can’t justify more than that.” Mereki stopped eating honey when we were twelve years old and he got stung by four bees. He blew up like a balloon and came out in itchy hives. He held a grudge. I smile at the memory.
“We’ll take four jars,” Josh says, addressing the vendor. He turns to me. “Two for you and two for me.”
I go for my wallet, but he holds up his hand in protest. “I’ll get this.”
I shake my head but don’t argue. I’m sure I can square us up at another stall.
Josh carries the bag with the four honey jars, and we keep walking. It’s a beautiful, sunny day, and I take my light jacket off to enjoy the warmth on my skin. I raise my face to the sky and close my eyes, breathing in the fresh country air. With Josh walking beside me between rows of passionate people selling their homemade goods, I feel a sense of contentedness. It isn’t nostalgia, as I’ve never actually experienced it before. Even back in my hometown when things were great with Ki, there was always a sense of foreboding following us around. When it had all seemed too good to be true, it was.
“What are you thinking about?” Josh asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I open my eyes and face him. “I am having a good day,” I answer honestly.
Josh smiles. “Me too.”
We stare at each other, and the connection I know we both feel crackles the air between us. For a minute, I wonder if he’s going to kiss me again, this time in public in front of the Ugg boot stall with background music provided by twenty wind chimes.
Staring at his mouth, I remember how wonderful it had felt on mine. I draw in a breath when his tongue darts out and wets his bottom lip. Desire shoots through me, and in that moment, I can think of nothing I want more than him. To hell with the consequences and my warped moral compass. Josh takes a step closer, and now I can’t breathe. He lifts his hand to my face and gently grazes his knuckles across my cheekbone. My eyes widen as his incredibly sensual mouth gets closer and closer to me.
With mere inches between us and my brain about to have a complete and cataclysmic meltdown, I hold my breath. This is it. He’s going to kiss me. My mind spins. God, I want this more than anything. I—
“Josh! Josh!”
He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t come any closer. Our eyes are locked, and I can see his every desire swirling around in his emerald irises, up close and personal.
“Joshua Holland,” the voice calls out, closer now.
Groaning, he kisses the tip of my nose, then turns away, taking a step back. I can’t move, but I’m forced to drag air into my oxygen-deprived lungs. My eyes are still locked on him, but I’m now staring at his strong side profile. His dark blond hair is tucked behind his ears, and he runs his free hand through the length of it as he greets whoever it is who stopped our kiss.
“Emerson.”
I shake my head and acknowledge him saying my name, possibly not for the first time.
“Sorry,” I say, cringing slightly. I look up and am confronted by a female clone of Todd. “You must be Clare.” I hold out my hand and shake hers.
“Nice to meet you,” she says in a friendly, but nowhere-near-as-warm, tone as her brother’s.
Clare reaches for Josh’s hand and pulls him away from me. I don’t love that, even though I have no claim to him whatsoever. Jealousy knows nothing of right and wrong, and I have to stop myself from marching forward and ripping his hand from hers. What a shitty thing that would be for me to do, but it flashes through my mind before I have a chance to control it.
“Your stand looks fantastic as always,” Josh says, praising her undoubtedly wonderful setup. “How are sales going so far?”
Clare beams under his approval. “Strong so far. I’ve sold out of my Christmas range already.”
I step forward to take a closer look at her candles, picking one up every so often to breathe in the scent. “Is this the one in your mum’s entry foyer?” I ask, holding up the one that reminds me of the day I was there.
Clare looks to Josh, then back to me. “Oh, you’ve met Sarah?”
I nod and smile.
Josh glances back and forth between us, then interjects, “Todd suggested dinner at the pub tonight if you’re keen?”
She looks up at him with puppy-dog eyes. “Of course. I was going to suggest the same thing.”
A crowd of prospective customers has arrived at Clare’s stall, and she needs to get back to work.
“We’ll leave you to it then,” Josh says, placing his hand at the small of my back. It feels intimate. “See you tonight.”
“Oh. Okay. See you tonight.” Clare appears torn, and I catch the tightening between her brows. She is jealous, and I wonder what their relationship is, or perhaps, was.
As we walk away, I decide not to pry. It is none of my business.
We spend another hour at the markets making a few more purchases. While Josh is preoccupied chatting to an elderly couple he knows, I find a stall selling beautiful, handmade dresses and a select range of underwear. I choose my favourites, relieved I’ll have something to wear to dinner tonight with Todd and Clare.
When I meet up with Josh, we grab hot dogs for lunch before heading back to his house mid-afternoon.
He turns the car off in the driveway, but neither of us makes a move to get out. “I’d like to sketch you,” he says.
My head snaps to his. “What? Why?”
His eyes soften. “It’s just something I’ve wanted to do for a while now.”
And even though nothing he’s said is suggestive, even though it’s all quite simple, something in my stomach tells me this is very, very wrong.