“Thomas! Thanks for this,” Matthew said at the front door. “I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. By the way, Mum said she had a ring around and might have what you’re looking for, too. She said she’ll ring you when she knows for sure.”
“Oh, brilliant. Tell her thank you.”
“Will do, mate. Give me a hand with this, would you? It’s bloody heavy.”
I frowned. What was heavy? Thomas was Bethan’s son—I remembered that much—but all we’d bought was a painting and a few books. We already had the books, and she’d been able to lift the painting all by herself. So what did he have?
Matthew backed into the hallway, bending forward, and my breath caught when I saw the chair they were carrying.
The Queen Anne.
Oh, my God.
He’d bought it.
He’d actually bought it.
I’d fallen in love with that chair the moment I’d seen it—the perfectly shaped wood, the carefully restored leather, the beautiful curves and lines of the chair had all captivated me, and I’d resolved that if I made it a month without running away, I’d buy it.
But now I didn’t need to. Matthew already had.
Thomas caught me looking at it, smiled, and nodded to Matthew to turn around. He did, and as his gaze roamed over my face, a smile broke out on his.
“You like it?”
“You know I do,” I replied quietly.
He held my eyes for a moment, and his gaze was so intense that my heart thumped inside my chest.
Oh.
That was new.
And unwelcome.
Very, very unwelcome.
I did not need my heart thumping for Matthew Bennett. Not even the slightest little beat for him. I knew what that meant, and that was a downfall I wasn’t willing to experience.
“Thomas, this is Eva, my wife. Eva, this is Thomas, Bethan’s son. He does all the deliveries for the shop,” Matthew explained.
I swallowed and raised my hand. “Hi.”
Thomas nodded. “Nice to meet you. I was wondering if I’d get to meet the woman who’s made an honest man out of my friend.”
“I don’t know about that. He lied about eating Rice Krispies out of the box yesterday,” I quipped.
“Who eats Rice Krispies out of the box? Everyone knows they’re better after a snap, crackle, and pop.” Thomas shook his head. “You need a night out, Matt.”
“I don’t know,” Matthew replied slowly. “I have a lot to do, and Eva is still settling in.”
“I don’t mind.” I smiled at them both. “I can paint now, and Adelaide is coming with Olympia next week. I’ll be busy with them. That’s my sister and her stepdaughter,” I added to Thomas, who nodded with an understanding, “Ahh.”
Matthew glanced at me. “Are you sure? I feel like I’ve abandoned you enough since the wedding.”
“I think you’ve more than made up for it,” I said honestly. “You don’t have to stop your life just because you’re married now.”
“Why do I feel like I’m going to regret agreeing to this?” Matthew mused, but he turned to Thomas and nodded anyway. “All right. We’ll arrange something.”
“Good stuff. I’ve gotta get on, got a couple more deliveries.” Thomas looked to me and nodded. “Nice to meet you, Eva.”
“You, too, Thomas. Bye.”
Matthew slapped him on the shoulder and waved him off, and it wasn’t until he closed the door that I realised there were two parcels next to the chair.
“What are those?”
He looked to where I was pointing. “I might have bought you the other picture you were looking at.”
“Matthew!” I stalked over to him, put my hands on my hips, and craned my neck to look up at him. “The one with the sunset?”
“Yes, the one with the sunset.” He fought a smile. “With Saint Dwynwen’s church.”
I couldn’t even be annoyed. That was a pretty painting, and I really had been torn between the two until the mountains called my name.
“Saint Dwynwen? Who’s that?”
He tapped me on the nose. “The Welsh patron saint of love.”
“So the Welsh Saint Valentine?”
“The equivalent of, yes. But that’s a story for another day, because I’m hungry right now.”
“Aw, come on,” I said, following him into the kitchen. “You can’t drop history on me and run away. That’s cruel.”
He grinned, turning and grabbing my hands. He pulled me against him and dropped his mouth close to my ear. “That story, dear wife, is better told with a visit to the actual place. Gives it a bit extra romance.”
“Pfft.” I tugged my hands from his and walked over to the fridge. “Don’t swear at me, Matthew Bennett. There’ll be none of that romance nonsense here.”
Do you hear that, heart? I’m talking to you, too! Pipe down!
He chuckled and took a whole chicken from the fridge. “Not for us, woman, bloody hell. The story is just better told when you’re by the ruins of the church. It’s quite a magical place, and I suspect you’ll need to take an easel with you.”