No Ordinary Gentleman

Who knew? Layers. The man has hidden layers. And I am hiding my amusement with a slow shake of my head.

“He can dance too,” she says.

“Yeah?” Of course he can dance. Alexander Dalforth has all the moves.

“I mean, he can waltz, obviously.” Yeah, obviously. “We were forced to learn,” she adds quickly by way of explanation. “But in general, he can dance. He’s an excellent salsa partner, so I’m told.”

I don’t want to know exactly who told her and make a vague noise in answer.

It sounds like he’s been holding out on me. And how did we get from the topic of my fake boyfriend’s taste in music to that of the man I’m supposed to be weaning myself from?

Oh. I remember.

Me.

I blow out a long, trembling breath. Anticipation, I think. The big Hollywood birthday party. People. Happiness. Humbug. But it all pales in comparison to how I feel about seeing Alexander again.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just tired.” I shoot her a reassuring smile. “I stayed up late last night to call my sister.” And only got to speak to my nephew.

“Is everything well?”

“Yeah, fine.” Apart from the thing he said about her arguing with some man. No, he said “the same man”. An Australian man. Which led me to think about her first year in college when she’d call home. There was a time she positively gushed about an Australian guy she had classes with. But then she came home for good, and he was never spoken of again.

A coincidence? I think not.

The boys return to their game of eye spy as Isla turns up the radio a touch before her attention turns to the long stretch of road ahead. The radio DJ drones on about something I have no interest in as I fix my eyes to the side window, watching as fields of sheep morph into heather-covered hills, tall thistles beginning to line both sides of the road. It’s been a strange few days, and I feel out of sorts. Emotional, I suppose, which I’ve been putting down to my time in Scotland coming to an end.

Yep, that’s what it is.

Nothing to do with . . . anything else.

As the familiar introduction to one of my nana’s favourite songs spills from the Range Rover’s fancy speaker system, I huff out an unhappy-sounding laugh.

Thanks, Nana. Just what I needed. I send my ironic thanks heavenward as the plucking strings section comes to an end and the late great Buddy Holly begins to croon about perfect weather and raining hearts.

My nana always did have a caustic sense of humour. And to say she swore like a sailor was an understatement. It was more like a naval fleet.

Okay, so it’s been raining in my heart since the day it last rained on my head. With my sad-looking ponytail and my knees stained green and, as it turned out, more blades of grass stuck to my ass than my wet feet, Alexander told me he sees me in a way I’ve never been able to see myself. He saw through my bravado and pretence and told me he likes me anyway.

It’s such a stupid cliché—but clichés are a thing for a reason—because it’s been raining in my heart since then. Raining in my heart and, in my private moments, raining from my eyes, the deluge of tears pouring down my cheeks.

No one has ever said such beautiful things to me, but maybe that’s not why I’m crying because he didn’t stop there.

“As Chrissy likes to say, what’s coming for you won’t pass you by,” Alexander had said as the rain hammered on the roof of the folly, cascading over the edges onto the grass below. He went on to say that what is meant to be will always be, regardless of what anyone wishes for. Fate, he was talking about. He said there was no avoiding the inevitable but that it can’t be forced either. He said he feared that’s what he’s been doing.

“Our connection has been physical, yes. But it has also been a joining. I truly believe ours has been a meeting of both body and soul, Holland. I’d argue that our hearts have clashed, too. So, I have to trust that if you’re meant to be mine, you will be. That you have your path to follow, and I should look at mine. So, to that end, I’m going to go back to London for now because I can’t be here and not touch you. I think we’ve seen the proof of that. But I also can’t be here and watch you leave. I need to look the other way and trust that if we’re meant to be together, we will be someday.”

Maybe he has the devil’s tongue in more than one way.

Because it says the things I want to hear, but I’m not sure I can trust.