Dot and Antoine had bumped into some of Dot’s old friends in the hotel bar and were busy catching up with each other’s news, so Josh had volunteered to bring Griff out for his late-evening walk. They’d made their way along the beach and back, taking advantage of the tide being out. For the last forty minutes he’d been throwing Griff’s ball across the wet sand and Griff had bounded after it, never tiring of playing his favorite game.
Now Josh was wishing he’d bribed one of the hotel staff to do the job instead.
Okay, not quite true. Knowing had to be better than not knowing, surely.
But the sight had hit him like a punch in the stomach from a pro. There was Sophie, standing outside her flat fifty meters away, locked in a clearly emotional embrace with another man. Her hair gleamed pale gold in the reflected glow of the street lamp overhead. The man who was holding her was taller, darker, and no one Josh recognized. It wasn’t a normal hug between acquaintances, that much was obvious. They weren’t letting go of each other.
And now, finally and with reluctance, they were. Words were exchanged; their heads remained close together, his hands still rested on Sophie’s arms. Griff, suddenly realizing who it was, pricked up his ears and let out a whimper of excited recognition.
“Shhh,” whispered Josh, before the dog could break into a giveaway volley of barks.
Together they watched as Sophie slipped the bangle off her wrist, fitted the key into the lock, and opened the front door. The next moment she and the man had disappeared inside. Then the light went on in the flat upstairs and Sophie appeared silhouetted in the window, reaching up to pull the curtains closed.
Right, well, that told him all he needed to know. Josh turned and gave Griff’s leash a tug to show him they were heading home.
Fuck. Just what he hadn’t needed to see.
Also, who was the man spending the night in Sophie’s flat?
***
“Sorry about that.” Matt blew his nose on a tissue. “So much for promising not to be an embarrassment. What a wuss.”
Sophie shook her head. “You’re not a wuss. Your wife died. It’s allowed.”
“Haven’t cried like that in months. Pretty brave of you, letting me into your flat.” He attempted a smile, took a mouthful of coffee, and grimaced because it was now tepid.
“Do you feel better?”
“I think so. A bit. It’s the guilt.” Matt sighed. “The shame. The endless wondering if I said or did something to cause it, just one stupid, careless thing that tipped her over the edge.” He paused. “And knowing that other people are wondering it too.”
Sophie said nothing. She couldn’t tell him about Theo; the very last thing he needed was for her to try to compete. And how could she, anyway? His wife had died, leaving him alone to bring up two children. She couldn’t begin to comprehend how that felt. All she understood was the guilt and the shame, coupled with the hideous, inescapable knowledge that she most certainly had done something to cause her own husband to want to end his life.
“I’m seeing a grief counselor,” Matt continued. “I told him I wished Louisa had been killed in a car crash. Anything else would have been better than this.”
“Because then you wouldn’t have had to feel responsible? You probably still would, though.” Sophie shrugged. “One way or another you’d have found something to feel guilty about. It’s what people do.”
Another wry smile. “He said that too.”
“You can’t see it now, but things will get easier. Eventually. Sorry,” said Sophie. “I bet when people say that it just makes you want to stab them.”
“Sometimes. Not you, though. And I know.” Matt grimaced. “There’s no magic pill. I just have to get through it. My mother says she knows I can’t imagine it now, but one day I’ll meet someone else, fall in love again, maybe even get married…” He was shaking his head at the seeming impossibility of the idea.
“She’s right.” Sophie’s throat tightened. “It’ll happen. One day.”
Oh God, listen to me. What a hypocrite.
He left shortly after that, heroically finishing his cold coffee and thanking her again for listening to him. They exchanged another brief hug, she gave him the framed print, and he carried it out to the car.
Sophie stood on the doorstep and waved as he drove off down the narrow street. Poor Matt. And what a lot of rubbish she’d told him. That was the thing about platitudes: they were easy to say, far less easy to put into practice.
Look at me, four years down the line and still completely unable to move on. What a pity I can’t take my own advice.
***
The following morning Bonnie, Jem, and Cal came to see Josh in his office.
It was decision time.
“Okay, we’ve stuck to our side of the bargain.” Cal had his charming face on. “We came all this way to see you, yeah? So you know how important this is to us. But we haven’t hassled you, have we? We’ve stepped back and given you the time and space to, like, make up your mind.”
“Most generous of you,” Josh murmured.
They gazed at him uncertainly; getting to grips with the British sense of humor had always been beyond them.
“We’ve been nice to everyone.” Mindful of the time he’d called them ill-mannered spoiled brats, Bonnie flashed her ultrawhite smile. “Even the staff.”
“The whole time we’ve been here,” Jem chimed in. “Nice nice nice, signing stuff, posing for photos, even when people were being really annoying. We’ve been, like, so patient with them.”
“Sounds like you’re reformed characters. That’s great,” said Josh. “Good to know. Well done.”
“So?” Cal couldn’t contain himself a moment longer.
“So what?”
“We want you to manage us again, man. Will you do it?”
Josh looked at them for a moment. Then he shook his head. “No.”
“Why not? We came all this way.”
“That was your idea, not mine. You didn’t have to come over,” said Josh. “Could have just asked me in a phone call.”
“And you would have said no.”
“Yes.” He shrugged. “I’d have said no.”
Cal’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because I’ve been there, done that, don’t need to do it all over again. I like it better here.”
“Is there anything we can do to change your mind?” Bonnie’s face had fallen; she looked as if she might burst into tears.
Feeling sorry for her, but not that sorry, Josh said, “Afraid not.”
“Oh, for Chrissake, I fucking knew it.” Cal aimed a vicious kick at the trash can next to the desk. “You selfish fucking bastard.”
It hadn’t taken him long to revert to his old ways. Faintly amused because it was no longer his problem, Josh pointed to Cal and said, “That too.”
“You think you’re such a smart-ass, don’t you? Well, you can kiss good-bye to the chrome limo,” Cal snarled. “Loser.”
“Can I? Really?” Josh raised an eyebrow. “Thank God for that.”