Reunited at The Altar

‘Wife?’ Abigail asked quietly, raising her eyebrows.

Brad smiled. ‘I forgot to add two letters and a hyphen.’ Then his expression became more serious. ‘It looked as if the guy was pestering you.’

‘He was. I was about to go and talk to the bartender and ask for help,’ she admitted.

‘It might still be worth having a word with the reception desk, so they’re aware of the situation and can make sure he doesn’t behave like that to anyone else,’ he said. ‘Though obviously that’s your call.’

She liked the fact that Brad wasn’t bossing her around. ‘I will. Have you checked in?’

‘Just about. And, actually, I did text you to say I was stuck in traffic and I’d be late.’

‘I didn’t get your message.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He paused. ‘Have you eaten tonight?’

She nodded. ‘Have you?’

‘I grabbed a burger from the place on the corner, on my way out of the lab. It’s fine. Can I get you another...?’ He looked at her glass. ‘That looks like orange juice, so I’m assuming you drove here.’

‘Actually, I got a taxi so I could have a glass of wine or something with you.’

He smiled. ‘That’s good. Let me order a bottle of wine, and maybe we can go and drink it on the terrace.’ He looked at her. ‘Or I believe my room has a balcony, if you want to go somewhere quieter. And, just so you know, that offer doesn’t come with any strings attached.’

The bar was becoming noisy and she really wanted to get away from the group of businessmen. Their over-hearty laughter was starting to irritate her. ‘Actually, your balcony would be nice.’

‘OK. What would you like me to order?’

‘Dry white, please. Or red, if you’d prefer,’ she added swiftly, not sure what he drank nowadays. ‘I really don’t mind.’

‘Dry white’s fine with me.’

Part of Abigail felt sad that they still had to be polite to each other. There was a time when Brad would’ve known what she’d like without having to ask, just as she would’ve known what he wanted.

‘I’ll talk to the hotel reception about that guy while you sort out the wine,’ she said.

The receptionist was horrified and apologetic. ‘I’ll ask the duty manager to have a quiet word with him and make sure the bar staff don’t serve him any more alcohol this evening,’ she said.

‘Thank you,’ Abigail said. ‘I’m fine, but anyone younger or less able to deal with the situation might have struggled, and I’d hate someone vulnerable to be in that position.’

She’d just finished talking to the receptionist when Brad came to join her, carrying a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and two glasses. ‘All OK?’ he asked.

‘Everything’s fine,’ she confirmed.

They went up to his room, and she noticed that he hadn’t even unpacked; clearly he’d just dumped his suitcase on his bed and come immediately to find her.

He opened the French doors to the balcony, which overlooked the golf course on the top of the cliffs, and the sea glittered in the distance. There were two wrought-iron chairs, a small wrought-iron table just big enough for a couple of drinks, and one of the hotel’s trademark bay trees in a terracotta pot.

‘Very nice,’ she said.

‘Indeed.’ He gestured to her to sit down, and poured them both a glass of wine. ‘I’m sorry I was late. There was a traffic jam.’

‘It isn’t your fault that the text didn’t come through.’

‘But I’m still sorry. If I’d been on time, you wouldn’t have been bothered by that guy.’

She reached over to squeeze his hand. ‘I’m not blaming you. And it’s fine. No harm done.’ She smiled at him. ‘So you’ve got ten days, you said?’

‘I did,’ he confirmed. ‘Sunetra—my assistant manager—is keeping all the projects ticking over. I can review things through my laptop here during the day, and she’ll call me if there’s anything she needs.’

Abigail would be busy herself during the day, so his work wouldn’t intrude on their time together. ‘That’s good.’ She looked at him. ‘So does your family know you’re here?’