Page 16 of Take Me Away

His mouth. Christ, it’s best I don’t look at his mouth.

Kit is still everything. Tall, more built than my memories recall. I’m blinking up into his face like I’m starstruck. Sharp cheekbones, the mouth that can be all petulant pout or stunning smile. Ocean-deep gaze and dark, long lashes that I remember can sweep with a heart-stopping, devastating impact.

And I’m here, bedraggled, wet, and totally ignoring his daughter while I stare at the man I used to know. I drag my eyes from his face.

‘Thank you,’ I say to Maisie, crouching down to her level, partly to be polite and partly to escape Kit’s gaze. ‘That’s very kind. It’s always nice to meet a fan.’

‘Can I get a picture with you? Please?’ Maisie’s already digging in the pocket of her yellow raincoat – another classic style statement. This girl is my queen. ‘Lily at school will never believe I met you!’

‘Not now, Maisie,’ Kit cuts in before I can answer. ‘Miss Quinn is out for a run. We’re not going to bother her.’ Miss Quinn? Who’s he talking about?

Oh – me.

‘It’s fine,’ I say quickly, perhaps too quickly. ‘I don’t mind.’

Kit’s eyes finally meet mine directly, and the intensity nearly knocks me back on my heels. My mouth dries, pulse drumming fast in my veins. ‘No, really, we don’t want to disturb you.’

We.

There’s a history lesson in that word.

We. As in him and his daughter.

His family.

The life he built after I left.

Maisie looks crestfallen, a raindrop rolls down the edge of her nose. ‘But Dad⁠—’

‘We need to get home. The rain’s getting worse.’ His voice softens when he speaks to her, but hardens again when he looks back at me. ‘Excuse us.’

‘Sure. Of course.’ I step aside on the narrow path, acutely aware of the mud now caking my leggings, the way my hair is plastered to my face. Not exactly the glamorous reunion I’d pictured in my darker moments. Weaker moments when I was lonely and craved something solid and familiar.

As they pass, Maisie turns back, waving enthusiastically. ‘Bye, Miss Quinn! I hope I see you again!’

‘Maisie, come on.’ Kit takes her hand, gently pulling her along, not looking back.

‘Bye, Maisie,’ I call after her, earning a reactive twitch of Kit’s back and shoulders in response. ‘It was nice meeting you.’

I watch them walk away, Kit’s broad shoulders stiff under his dark, rain-soaked jacket, Maisie skipping beside him, yellow raincoat bobbing like a wayward sunbeam in the grey late-morning.

The distance between us grows with each step. Ten feet. Twenty. A decade.

I should be relieved. First encounter over. Band-Aid ripped off. But all I am is hollow, like someone’s scooped out my insides and replaced them with cold seawater.

Kit has a daughter. A perfect, movie-loving, rain-hat-wearing daughter. And I’d missed all of it – his marriage, his family, his life. All those years of his life continuing without me while I… I can’t think about what I was doing…

And he clearly wants nothing to do with me.

The rain picks up, fat drops falling harder now, but I don’t move. I stand there, watching them disappear around the bend in the path, feeling every one of the ten years that’s passed since I walked away.

When they’re gone, I turn and run back towards the cottage, faster than before, as if I could somehow outpace the look in Kit’s eyes or the strange ache in my chest.

Back at Salt Cottage, I slam the door behind me, breathing hard, clothes soaked through.

I thought being here would be so much better than ‘out there’ in the world that knows all about what Isla Quinn has been through.

Now, I’m not so sure.