Making Your Mind Up (38 page)

As each new delay had been announced, every other passenger had become increasingly bad-tempered. Now that they were home at last, their collective mood improved. The plane had landed nine hours late, but they were finally back in Bristol and thank God for that.

The exception was Mario, who basically wasn't bothered either way. As far as he was concerned, the airport was as good a place as any to pass a bit of time. Apart from seeing Nat and Ruby again, what else did he have to look forward to?

Nothing at all.

Oh well. Hauling his case off the luggage carousel, he wheeled it through the milling crowds and made his way toward customs. Even hiding bottles of spirits in your luggage and sneaking them through the Nothing to Declare channel was no fun anymore now that you were allowed to bring back as much as you wanted.

Bloody EU.

The glass doors slid open, and Mario found himself in the arrivals hall, decorated for Christmas and still busy despite the fact that it was past midnight. A couple nuns were sitting at a café table drinking tea from a flask, groups of returning travelers were being greeted with cries of delight by friends and relatives, and there was a girl sleeping on a bench with a woolly hat on. At first glance, Mario experienced a cattle-prod jolt of recognition because beneath the woolly hat she had blond hair like Amber's, but he was becoming accustomed to these jolts now. Several times a day on vacation he would glimpse someone in the distance and think for a heart-stopping moment that it was Amber.

This one was wearing Amber-type clothes, which was what had captured his attention: short ruffled purple skirt, pink glittery sweater, and rainbow-colored hat and scarf. She was wearing pink cowboy boots, Mario observed, knowing perfectly well as he moved toward the bench that it wouldn't be her, but needing to prove it to himself nevertheless.

It was her.

Oh God, it
was
her.

Mario forgot to breathe. He gazed down at Amber, peacefully asleep with her head resting on one arm and her sequined handbag clutched to her chest.

What was she doing here? If she was waiting for bloody Quentin, he'd…well, he'd… Oh Jesus, was this really happening, or was
he
still asleep in the departure lounge in Palma?

Reaching out, Mario touched her shoulder and gave it a tentative shake. When Amber's eyes opened, he snatched his hand back as if she were a growling pit bull.

Terrific, very manly. And what was he supposed to say, now that he'd gone and woken her up?

“Off on vacation?” Mario couldn't believe he'd just said that. Pathetic or what?

Amber looked at him. “No.”

“Oh.”

“What's the time?”

He checked his watch. “Half past midnight.”

“Of all the planes in all the world,” said Amber, “you had to be on that one.”

Mario didn't allow himself to hope. “It was delayed. We were supposed to be here nine hours ago. There was a fault with one of the engines, then they thought they'd fixed it, but it turned out they hadn't, then it
was
finally fixed, but we missed our next slot for takeoff.”

“That's typical of you,” said Amber.

Still not daring to hope but compelled to ask the question, Mario said, “Have you been waiting here since three o'clock this afternoon?”

“No I have
not
.” Amber pulled herself into a sitting position and took off her hat. She waited a couple seconds, then added, “I've been waiting here since
six
o'clock this morning.”

“Why?” Mario braced himself for bad news.

“Why? Because Lottie didn't know what time you were flying back, did she, so I had to make sure I got here early enough to meet every plane.” Exasperated, Amber said, “Except I didn't, did I? I fell asleep instead, on a stupid metal
bench
. You could have walked straight past me without even realizing I was here. I'd have spent all that time waiting for nothing!”

Mario exhaled slowly. “I don't think I could ever walk straight past you without realizing you were there. It just wouldn't happen. And you do have to tell me what's going on, by the way. Because at the moment I'm at a bit of a loss for…”

“Sausage rolls?” Amber raised her eyebrows as he gestured helplessly. “Premium Bonds? Furniture polish?”

“That's it! Furniture polish.”

“You know exactly what's going on. I'll also have you know, it's all your interfering ex-wife's fault.” Amber paused. “So, how was your vacation?”

“Terrible.”

She smiled. “In that case I'm glad I didn't go with you.”

“If you'd gone with me it wouldn't have been terrible.” Reaching out, Mario pulled her to her feet. “Where's Quentin?”

“That's all over. I told Quentin yesterday.”

“I bet he took it well,” said Mario. “Like the thoroughly decent chap he is.”

“He did.” Amber nodded. “And he
is
a thoroughly decent chap.”

“But?”

“He wasn't enough. Dammit, he wasn't
you
.”

Those were the words he wanted to hear. His heart expanding, Mario said, “Does that mean I'm indecent?”

“Don't gloat. Oh God.” Amber groaned. “I can't help wondering if I'm going to regret this.”

He loved her so much. “You won't. And that's a promise.”

She fixed him with a warning look. “You'd better keep that promise. Because I'm telling you now, if you
ever
cheat on me, I swear I'll—”

“I never have,” Mario forestalled her, because the nightmare one-night stand with Gemma didn't count, surely—that had happened after Amber had dumped him. “And I never will. And excuse me for mentioning it, but you were the one who played away, sneaking off on vacation with another man. Road-testing him before you decided whether to choose him over me. And to cap it all, his name was
Quentin
.”

“You're right. And I'm sorry, I was wrong to do that.” Amber shook her head. “I swear on my life I'll never do anything like that again.”

Mario touched her face, momentarily unable to speak. If he was honest, she'd been right to do it. Discovering the hard way how it felt to be cheated on and dumped had been the wake-up call of his life. If you wanted to be really icky about it, you could even say the experience had changed him for the better.

But he wasn't going to tell Amber that. He wasn't completely stupid. “Come on, let's go home. I just need to find the parking ticket machine.”

“You've got your car?” Amber looked dismayed. “I didn't realize you'd driven down here. I've got my car too.”

Mario took her in his arms and kissed her properly. “Shhh. You don't know how much I've missed you.”

“Actually, I think I can guess.” Pink and out of breath, Amber said, “Will you behave yourself? There are nuns over there.”

Mario hadn't fancied the fifty-mile drive from Bristol back to Hestacombe anyway. “In that case I think we'd better find a hotel. Get a room.”

“Ow, bugger,
fuck,”
yelped Lottie as she lost her balance, toppled over sideways, and at a stroke destroyed the festive tableau she'd spent the last twenty minutes painstakingly arranging.

The door opened and Tyler appeared. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, wonderful! Really, couldn't be better.” Lottie gestured from the floor, surrounded by holly branches, swathes of variegated ivy, and pine cones. “I had the fireplace looking gorgeous, like something out of a
magazine
, and now it's all wrecked!”

“Here.” Reaching down, he helped her to her feet—OK,
foot—
and plonked—
plonked!
—her back into her wheelchair. Feeling like a belligerent toddler, Lottie pointed to the berries scattered over the carpet. “And this holly's rubbish. All the berries just bounced off! How can I decorate a fireplace with naked holly? It's just going to look
stupid
.” Oh dear, now she was starting to
sound
like a belligerent toddler. Was it any wonder Tyler was treating her like one?

“Do you want me to go out and cut some more?”

“You won't know which trees to avoid. I don't want any more of this useless stuff.”

“Fine.” Tyler abruptly left the room. Cursing herself and her hormones, Lottie hurled a pinecone at the fireplace. It was the Sunday before Christmas, and to say they weren't getting on well was an understatement. Wheelchair or no wheelchair, she really couldn't stay on any longer at Hestacombe House.

It was time to go home.

The door swung open again, and Tyler threw her black sweater and cream fake-fur waistcoat at her. “Put these on. It's cold outside.”

“Is it?” Affecting surprise, Lottie gazed out of the drawing room window at the yard, glittering with frost. “And there was me, thinking I might wear my bikini.”

“Any more of your back talk and you will.”

“And I can't wear these two things together. The cream fur molts like crazy.”

By this time, pushing her at speed out into the hall, Tyler wordlessly reached over, snatched the offending waistcoat from her grasp, and chucked it onto the floor.

“Thanks a lot! Now it's all
dirty
.”

“Will you stop complaining? Do you want more holly or not?”

They'd screeched to a halt on the polished parquet. Lottie fought her way into the black lambswool sweater, dragging it on over her cropped T-shirt. As her head popped out through the hole she said irritably, “Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go.”

The sun was yet to melt last night's heavy frost. As the wheelchair jiggled over the path leading down to the lake, Lottie's breath formed opaque puffs that hung in the air before being whisked behind her. Tempted though she was to complain about the jiggling, she didn't want to be turfed out of the chair and left on the stony ground to die of hypothermia.

“Not those. That's where the last lot came from.” Dismissing the inferior specimens on their left, she pointed instead to a holly tree closer to the water's edge. “We'll try that one.”

Wordlessly, Tyler steered her down to the beach. The swans glided across the water toward them, then figured out that they hadn't brought anything edible and promptly lost interest.

Rather like Tyler with me
, thought Lottie as he reached up for the first branch.

Hmm, was that a pair of pruning shears in his pocket or was he just pleased to see her?

No, it was a pair of pruning shears. She watched him clip through the branch and give it a shake to check that the berries were hanging on by more than just their fingernails before handing it to Lottie.

Lottie looked at the holly, glossy-leaved and still sparkling with frost. “Actually, don't bother. I'd rather go home.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Don't be such a wimp; we'll be done in five minutes.”

“I mean there's no point in me decorating that room. I want to go back to my house.”

And exhale. There, she'd said it. At last.

Tyler surveyed her levelly. “Why?”

“Because we've imposed on you long enough. It's almost Christmas. After putting up with Nat and Ruby for the last fortnight you must be desperate for some peace and quiet.”

“Is that the real reason?”

No, Lottie wanted to shout at him,
Of
course
it isn't. But I'm hardly going to tell you the
real
reason, am I?

Am I?

Oh God,
am
I?

Tyler's gaze was still upon her. To her absolute horror Lottie heard herself saying, “Actually, I'm just a bit confused. The thing is, I don't know if you even remember this, but back in the summer you seemed really keen on me and things between us were getting quite, well, you know. Until Nat and Ruby made things impossible and we agreed that we couldn't see each other anymore.”

“Go on,” said Tyler.

Go
on
? Good grief, hadn't she already said enough? Oh no, and there
was
more, bubbling up and out of her mouth as uncontrollably as if someone had slipped her a truth drug.

“So that was fine, we were adults, we knew we had no other choice,” Lottie babbled on. “Then I met someone else and not long after that Liana turned up, but deep down I was still crazy about you, and call me stupid, but I suppose I hoped that deep down you were still crazy about me.”

Tyler raised an inquiring eyebrow. “And?”

“And?” Her voice spiraling, Lottie said in exasperation, “But they're out of the picture now, both of them, and you even managed to change the way Nat and Ruby felt about you, which has to be some kind of miracle, but what it means is that there are now precisely
no
reasons why we…why we shouldn't…um…”

“Shouldn't what?”

He sounded mildly interested. This was awful,
worse
than awful. Flushed with embarrassment, Lottie blurted out, “Look, all I'm saying is that if you've stopped liking someone it's only polite to tell them, then they can stop wasting their time wondering if you still like them or not.”

Tyler nodded, absorbing this pronouncement. At last he said, “You're right, that makes sense. OK, I'll do that.”

Lottie waited, her fingers gripping the wheelchair's armrests.

And waited.

Finally, light-headed with waiting—and forgetting to breathe—she managed to get out, “You aren't saying it.”

“I know.” Tyler shrugged, and at long last Lottie thought she detected a glimmer of a smile around his mouth. “That's probably because I haven't stopped liking you.”

It was a jolly good job she was sitting down. “So you still…?”

“Oh yes.” Tyler nodded again, this time with undisguised amusement. “I definitely still…” He waited. “Go on then, your turn. Do you still…too?”

“You bastard!” Lottie flung aside the branch of holly that had been lying across her lap. “You absolute
bastard
. You know I do!”

“I thought you might. I hoped you did. But I didn't know for sure,” Tyler pointed out. “You haven't been giving me any clues.”

“That's because you haven't said anything!” Out of her chair now, hopping furiously on her good leg, Lottie yelled, “You didn't give
me
any clues. I thought you weren't interested in me anymore, so why would I want to make a complete fool of myself?” As she said this she lost her balance in the sand, wavered wildly on one foot for a couple seconds, and almost went crashing to the ground. Again.

Tyler caught her in the nick of time. As, deep down, Lottie had kind of hoped he would.

“Heaven forbid,” he drawled, “that you should ever make a complete fool of yourself.”

He smelled wonderful, just as she remembered. The heat from his body was drawing her toward him like a magnet, but there were still questions to be asked.

“So were you
ever
planning to do anything?” Lottie's eyes blazed with a mixture of indignation and lust. “I mean, if I hadn't said all this today, would we have just carried on the way we've been carrying on for the last fortnight?”

“No.” Tyler shook his head thoughtfully. “Of course I would have said something eventually. I just didn't want to jump the gun.”

Jump
the
gun?

“Are you mad?” Lottie blurted out. “I've been waiting so hard for you to jump the gun that I've been ready to
burst
.”

“Maybe, but this isn't only about you, is it?” He gave her that maddening look again.

“Isn't it?” Her stomach gave a lurch of alarm. “So who else is it about then?” If he told her Liana was on her way back over here…

“There are other people to consider. Like…
two
fairly important people?”

Oh
phew
. “Ruby and Nat? But they love you now!”

“They've loved me for nine days. Possibly nine and a half.” Tyler shrugged. “Before that they hated me with a passion. Who's to say they won't change their minds again tomorrow?”

“They won't. You've won them around completely.” Joyfully Lottie exclaimed, “We can be together!”

“I hope so. But I still think it's better to ask them how they'd feel about it, rather than just presenting them with a fait accompli.”

“That's so thoughtful. And you're right. We'll ask them as soon as they get back.” Nat and Ruby had been taken Christmas shopping in Cheltenham by Mario and Amber. Checking her watch, Lottie said, “They won't be home for a few hours yet.” She frowned. “Gosh, I wonder what we could possibly do to pass the time?”

“Stop that. Not until we know.” Tyler removed her wandering hands from the front of his shirt before she had time to undo even one button.

Spoilsport.

“They're my children,” Lottie protested. “Trust me, they'll be fine about it.”

“All the same.” Taking his phone out of his jacket pocket, Tyler said, “Just give Mario a call.”

“Mario?”

“Say, have you asked them yet?”

“You mean you…?”

“Just do it,” prompted Tyler.

Flabbergasted, Lottie keyed in Mario's number. When he answered she said, “Tyler's asked me to ask you if you've asked them yet.”

Moments later she said, “OK, thanks,” and switched off the phone.

“Well?”

“He asked them. They said it's cool.”

A slow smile spread from Tyler's mouth to his eyes. “Cool. Well, that's a relief. Cool is more than I dared hope for.”

“See? I knew they'd be OK about it.” Triumphantly Lottie wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I'm always right.”

Tyler kissed her in return, until she was tingling all over. “All that trouble, solved by one little word,” he drawled. Then, as Lottie launched herself away from him and began hopping backward: “What are you doing now?”

“You're taking me back to the house.” Lowering herself into the wheelchair Lottie said, “It's way too cold out here for what I have in mind.”

“Really? Oh well, in that case.” Tyler swung the chair in a homeward direction.
“Cool.”

Order Jill Mansell's next book

Falling for You

On sale August 2015