Page 15 of The Forbidden Fling

Diana

Diana stood on top of a nearby cliff, hoping the fresh sea breeze would help clear her brain fog. But the salty, seaweed smell did little to comfort her. She didn’t care much for the sea. Where some people saw a friend and a confidant, she only felt the echoes of everything the sea had seen. The lulling waves wore their mask, trying to entice her, but Diana sensed the secrets hidden in their dark depths. It was a front, a show; she wouldn’t let it work its voodoo magic on her.

But the ephemeral tendrils seeped out around her, demanding her attention. Fresh, powdery doughnuts. Her mother’s tinkling laughter as she brushed sugar from Diana’s round cheeks. “You have more on your face than in your mouth.” Her mother’s voice echoed around her, and her blurred face came into view. Blonde hair pinned back to reveal kind blue eyes, crows’ feet, and laughter lines etched deep into her skin. Diana’s heart squeezed.

They didn’t have a lot of money growing up—her father worked on a local farm, and her mother stayed at home—but they still visited the seaside every summer. Her mother loved the sea, and the two of them would spend whole afternoons playing along the shore with her father watching from his towel on the sand.

In her seaside recollections, her father played a background role, carrying their luggage and sitting with his feet up. A figure rather than an active face.

Until the spring of Diana’s tenth birthday, when everything changed.

Goosebumps rippled along her skin, despite the burning sun overhead. No matter how many years passed, the huge gap her mother left in her life still ached. She never got to say goodbye.

Diana sighed and checked her phone signal. Still nothing. She knew she’d only miss updates from Leanne and work emails, but the inability to check made her skin itchy. What if she missed something important? She took one last look at the ocean waves, cursed them for their secret-harnessing powers, and then spun around. They tried to lure her back, but she dug her feet into the gravel, pushing forward.

She blamed the alcohol lingering in her veins for her depressive recollection. Though her headache had passed, a sadness hovered—or maybe that was more to do with Molly’s unwelcoming reception.

Frosty would be an understatement.

She joined the path back towards the courtyard, glancing over the cliff at the blips of people in swimwear enjoying the beach below. When Molly was young, Jason wanted to take her to the east coast and couldn’t understand Diana’s reluctance. But that was Jason all over. If something didn’t directly benefit him, he wasn’t interested.

She wished she’d had her mother to help guide her back then. Diana had been nineteen when she fell pregnant with Molly. Her father had been furious—he wouldn’t have a grandchild born out of wedlock—and he’d kicked her out of the house, straight into Jason’s arms. Had her mother been there, Diana hoped she would have reacted differently. Truthfully, she didn’t know what she’d have said, or if she’d be supportive of Diana’s bisexuality. Diana hadn’t spoken to her father in years.

She stopped to catch her breath when she reached the courtyard. The hill climb and trip down memory lane had tired her. A food van selling a mix of freshly fried fish and potatoes made her belly rumble. She offered the woman behind the counter a tired nod before walking past. Even the scent of fish brought back more memories of her childhood at the seaside; she couldn’t stop her brain from digging up all these repressed feelings.

I blame the wine for that, too.

The memory of Faye’s lips seared her, sending an electric current over her skin and halting her in place. Faye had tried to get Diana’s attention earlier, before someone jumped in. She probably wanted to explain why she’d bolted mid-kiss. Let Diana down gently. The tingly warmth dissipated, taking the memory with it.

But honestly, Diana could spare the heart-to-heart. Life was complicated enough. She didn’t have time for romance—not that Faye wanted that anyway—with the pressures of work and her crumbling relationship with her daughter.

Molly’s scowl popped into her vision. “You were late. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you didn’t show up at all and abandoned me here.”

She’d definitely inherited Jason’s temper.

Frustration tangled with guilt. Molly didn’t see the storm as a worthy excuse, nor the effort and sacrifice Diana had made to make this trip a reality. She and Molly had been housed opposite each other, which had been ideal for her, but less so for Molly, given how she’d reacted.

Sometimes she felt she couldn’t do anything right for her daughter.

Goats wandered over to the stone wall, bleating at her from the field and butting their dirty white heads together. Deciding enough time had passed, Diana headed back up the trail towards her cabin.

Their relationship had been rocky for a couple of years now, ever since Jason’s third wife entered the scene and Diana’s career took off. She’d spoken to Molly about the opportunities to travel and teach, and Molly had encouraged her to go. They’d spent hours on the phone from all over the globe, catching up about Molly’s time at university and sharing Diana’s anecdotes. But cracks had started to show with the distance. Molly spent more time at home instead of studying and began echoing Jason’s accusations of selfishness and control. Diana only wanted the best for her daughter, but somehow that always got twisted. It got harder to defend herself when Molly stopped returning her calls.

She never regretted having Molly—she was the best thing that had happened to her, and definitely the best thing to come out of her struggles with Jason in her early life—but playing the bad guy in Jason’s narrative just got…tiring.

She arrived at Molly’s cabin and knocked, listening to the scuffles behind the door. As the setting sun sank behind her, golden light filtered through the tree leaves, casting shadows on the ground. When no one answered, she knocked again. “Molly, love. It’s me.”

The door swung open, and Molly raised an eyebrow, unamused. “Who else would it be? The bogeyman? Although that’s not far off,” she muttered.

Diana bit her tongue. Hitting her back with a snarky remark would only shut the door in her face. She offered a smile. “Can I come in?”

“I suppose. There’s nothing else for me to do here.” Molly stood aside, and Diana passed her.

The cabin was a replica of hers, white and clean with a double bed in the corner and wood-framed nature pictures decorating the walls. Molly’s open case lay on the floor, and Diana chose not to comment on the mess of scrunched-up clothes inside—or the clutter of make-up and hair products already crowding the dresser. Even as a kid, Molly had left toys and dolls everywhere.

“Seriously, Diana.” Molly crossed her arms. Diana tried not to flinch at the cold formality of her first name. “There’s no phone signal. No Wi-Fi either. What was the point in coming here?”

“We discussed this. It’s so you can clear your head and think about your next steps. And so we can spend some time together.”