I can’t believe he just did that.

I can’t believe Dalton joined him.

Fighting.

Oh my god.

Are they fifteen-year-old boys again?

I smile to myself slyly as I realize I should be flattered and if I wasn’t so angry I might be, but at the moment I’m supposed to be furious with them both...and part of me is. I look over to Sarah to see her smirking at me as though she can read my thoughts. It’s unsettling...like we can read each other’s minds. It’s always been like this.

“Stop it.” I tell her with a small laugh. “I’m livid. Stop smiling.”

At the change of tone in my voice the guys push their way next to me. One either side, we walk along, slowing to a stroll, instead of the hurried angry stride of moments ago.

“Just so you know. You two aren’t off the hook. I’m just a bit drunk and tired so I don’t want to fight. Right now I just want to take these damn shoes off and fall into bed.”

Instantly I’m scooped up into strong arms and I throw my arms around a neck in surprise, looking to see which male it was.

Dalton.

I should have known.

Sarah is suddenly lifted into Micah’s arms as she squeals in shock.

“Problem solved.” Dalton murmurs, not missing a step.

I must admit that the feel of him against my body brings back a longing I’d buried deep. One I have no right to feel after all these years.

The rhythm of Dalton’s strides and the soft beating of his heart against my ear lulls me to sleep and when I wake up Sarah’s opening the door to her flat. It’s always neat and tidy and I love the homely feel of it. Dalton releases me when he realizes I’m awake and I slide my feet to the floor, unsteadily. Once I have my balance, he unwraps his arm from around my shoulders. Instantly I miss the warmth of his embrace, and unconsciously move closer to him, my back to his front. His arms snake around my shoulders and a whisper of breath brushes my ear. “Are you cold?” he asks softly as Micah and Sarah walk over to the small kitchen to get drinks, laughing loudly together.

“Yeah a little.” I tell him softly as his arms tighten around me. “It’s better now we’re not in the breeze. I’ll be fine. You can let me go now.”

Sliding his arms slowly across the front of my chest I’m sure I hear him whisper “I don’t want to.” And decide to ignore his remark, storing it away for analysis later.

The night progresses with more drinking and laughing, and I notice Sarah’s lapping up every comment, glance and smile that Micah casts her way. They seem to be developing more than a friendship if I’m not mistaken. I smile to myself at the thought of them together and realise that I’m happy for the both of them. I have no jealousy or animosity, only happiness and satisfaction seeing my best friend happy. Her eyes sparkle when they look at him, and he has a smile every time he turns her way...it’s great to see.

I decide to close my eyes for just a second as the effect of the alcohol fills my body, my mind shutting down to the constant chatter between the others. Why did I drink so much? I never drink more than a glass or two. Maybe it’s because I’m trying to forget...or remember...I’m not sure. My last thought as I fall asleep is the comforting arm that surrounds me and the smell of Dalton as he holds me close.

My first thought as I wake up in the morning is sheer terror. I open my eyes to a strange room and the feeling of someone behind me on the couch. Instantly jumping up, and turning to see whose arm was over me when I awoke, I meet the bleary eyes of my ex-boyfriend. His sleepy smile makes everything okay in a moment and I take in a deep breath that I had no idea I was holding. “Oh thank god.” I tell him as I let out a long sigh. “I had no idea who you were and where I was for an instant. What the hell happened? Why are we on Sarah’s couch?”

“That would be because her and Micah are in her bed, and you passed out. Somehow I don’t think you’re used to drinking so much. You always were a lightweight Babe.” He says sleepily, using his pet name for me.

“I don’t remember anything after we left the races, no...that’s wrong. I do remember being at the Hotel and the rest of the night is a blur.”

“How much of the night at the pub do you remember?”

“Dinner and all of us having a good time...I...I don’t know how we got here.”

“Oh thank god. You don’t remember me carrying you home or what happened at the pub before we...left?”

“No. Should I? What happened?” I ask with a puzzled expression, wracking my brain for any memories.

“Nope. All good. Nothing we need to concern ourselves with. Why don’t we get some breakfast down at the Café on the beach? Are you up to it?”

“Yeah. Give me a minute to freshen up and I’ll be right with you.”

Pancakes make everything alright, I decide, as I stuff another into my mouth leaving a trail of maple syrup across my plate. I’m starving, and, so far we’ve just made small talk, coping with our hangovers silently – together but separately. Though Dalton doesn’t show any sign of being hungover at all. Maybe it was just me who drank too much.

“So are you upset about Micah being with Sarah? Last night you didn’t seem to mind but in the cold hard light of day are you seeing things differently?” he says, popping in a mouthful of eggs and bacon and interrupting my train of thought. It takes me a minute to process what he’s just said and when I do I stop chewing and think about what he’s said. “No. Not at all. I like Micah, don’t get me wrong, but even I remember the chemistry between them last night. He’s a nice guy, but I’m not interested in more than friendship.”

He studies me for a long time before nodding his head slightly in acknowledgement.

“Fair enough”

I finish my breakfast in silence, enjoying the peace and the chance to recover from last night. My stomach is settling and the coffee has worked wonders, making me feel human again. Sitting back, holding my coffee mug with both hands I look at him, taking the chance to gaze at him while he isn’t looking. He really has aged well. His features have matured and those startling blue eyes are just as piercing now as they always were. His wide shoulders strain the material of his crumpled shirt, his huge biceps clearly visible as he moves. His eyebrow raises in question as he notices me looking at him.

“You could have been a model too you know.” I tell him seriously. He could have made a living with his looks and body.

He laughs softly and says, “Not for me Babe. That was your deal. I love the farm too much to be strolling up and down catwalks all day. I’d be bored in a week. My life is the farm and Milly. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“I know.” I reply, “It’s not fair though. You’ve got more handsome as you’ve aged. I’m starting to look for wrinkles and wondering if it’s time for Botox and there you are – completely gorgeous.”

He looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind and continues eating, slowly sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. His brow furrows as he looks up at me.

“Are you fucking serious right now? Botox? You don’t have any wrinkles for Christ sake. You’re 28 years old and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Don’t you dare touch your face. It’s perfect.” He says earnestly, going back to his food.

I can feel the blush on my cheeks at his compliment. I hide behind my coffee cup till I can’t anymore. The waitress comes over and gives me a refill which I drink gratefully. There were times I lived on just coffee and nothing else, depriving myself of food for a Victoria Secret model shoot or bikini shoot. Your body had to be completely perfect and that meant a flat stomach. Modelling is such a competitive career that you did what you needed to do to stay in the game. Luckily since I’ve been home I haven’t even thought about what food I’m eating and my size hasn’t changed, though I’m sure I’ve gained weight with Mum’s cooking. Maybe all the stress of the last month has helped to keep my weight down. I know I’ve been pushing myself at the gym as well, trying to expend some nervous energy.

“Dalton?” I ask hesitantly.

“Mmm?” he murmurs around a mouthful of food.

“Do you ever wonder where we’d be if I’d stayed? Do you think we’d still be together?” I hold my breath waiting for his reply.

Suddenly I hear a long sigh. “Jesus wept.” He says softly. “We would have been married with a brood of kids by now. Why would you even ask that? It wasn’t my idea for us to break up, if you remember. That was all on you. I loved you so much that I had to let you go. I hated you for a long time afterwards...but I never stopped loving you. Even when I got married, I never stopped. It was like I loved two women at once and I was fine with that. I adored Kelsey and my heart still breaks for losing her so young, but if you’re asking me if I ever thought of you? If I ever wondered what if? If I ever laid awake at night thinking of you and dreamt of you when I did finally fall asleep...then yeah. I’m guilty of all of the above...but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t love my wife with all my heart. I did, and I don’t regret a moment of my life with her. If she hadn’t come along I wouldn’t have Amelia, and I live for that little girl. So yes, in answer to your question – yes I wondered how our life would be if you hadn’t left, but you did, and I couldn’t change that.”

He falls back in his chair as my eyes tear up and a lump fills my throat, preventing me from talking. What can I say to that? Sorry? I broke his heart and he let me, because he knew that I wanted to follow my dream. I can’t apologise for that. Saying sorry wouldn’t cover it. It could never make up for the heartache I caused him.

“I missed you so much those first few months. I nearly told them to shove it and came home, but I didn’t want to look or feel like a failure, so I stuck it out. Then I met Ryan and my whole outlook changed – gradually, he made me happy again for a while.” I tell him seriously, taking a sip of my hot coffee.

“To change the subject – I haven’t had a chance to ask you how you’re getting on at home. Are you bored yet? Longing to fly off to Paris? Have you had enough of us country bumpkins?”

I look up in surprise. “I’m one of those country bumpkins too. I think you forget I was born and raised here. Paris is nice but I’m loving being home, but I’m thinking of getting my own place. I love being home with Mum and Dad but they need their space too. I was thinking of going for a look this weekend actually.”

“Today? There are home opens today. If you want I can come and help you. Males tend to look at houses differently to females I’ve found. I can look past a pretty painting and see the crack its hiding, and the termite damage in the supporting beams.”

“I’d love that if you have time. I was going to ask Dad but he’s sailing today. Are you sure it’s no trouble?”

“No trouble. You don’t mind if we pick up Milly on the way? Mum and Dad have probably had enough of her chatter.”

I smile at the thought of his daughter with her grandparents. “I’m sure they love it really.”

“Oh they love it for sure but I know how much talking she does. Their ears are probably bleeding by now.”

Laughing, we pay and leave to collect Amelia.