Holiday with the Best Man (10 page)

Sorry, something's come up at work. I need to sort it out. Going to be late home. Can we take a rain check on the movie?

Sure
, she texted back, burying her disappointment. She knew he wouldn't cancel without a good reason, and he'd given her as much notice as he could.

She texted him just before she left the office.

Have makings of stir-fry in fridge, so if you don't get time to eat I can cook you something in five minutes flat tonight.

It was a while before he replied to thank her, and he didn't get home until almost nine.

‘Sit down and I'll make you a drink. Have you eaten?' she asked.

‘No. I'm too tired to eat,' he admitted.

‘You need to eat,' she said, and ushered him to the kitchen table. ‘Give me five minutes.'

As she'd promised, five minutes later, there was a plate of chicken, stir-fry veg, sweet chilli sauce and noodles in front of him.

‘Thank you. This is good,' he said after the first mouthful.

‘You're very welcome. Did you manage to get your problem sorted out?' she asked.

He sighed. ‘We're getting there. It's a problem with an eco extension we're doing. The team started digging foundations this morning and it turns out there's an old well shaft right in the middle of the new build site. It wasn't on any of the plans of the area, so we need to talk to the building regs inspector and the planning department about how we're going to deal with it. We can cap it and build over it, or we can make a feature of it say with a partial glass floor, but either way it's going to affect how we deal with the foundations.' He grimaced. ‘I'm probably going to be tied up dealing with this until the weekend, and it means I'll be working late as well. Sorry, Grace. It isn't what we agreed and I feel bad that I'm letting you down.'

‘It's not your fault,' she said, ‘and it's clearly not something you can delegate so it's fine. I can amuse myself.'

‘Thank you.' He reached over to take her hand and squeezed it. ‘I really appreciate you being so understanding. And don't worry about cooking for me for the rest of the week. I'll grab something with the team.'

‘If there's anything you need, just tell me,' she said.

* * *

The rest of
the week dragged. Grace was shocked to realise how quickly she'd come to look forward to her dates with Roland. So maybe his problem at work was a good thing; it would bring her common sense back and stop her making a fool of herself by falling for him.

On Friday evening, she went to the flat after work to see how things were going and pick up any post, and discovered there was a letter waiting for her. The job she'd been interviewed for on the day of the flood was hers, and they wanted her to start the week after next.

Given that she'd resigned herself to having to keep looking for a job, she was thrilled by the news. She texted Bella swiftly.

Got the job. Celebrate when you get back. Love you lots. x

And then she called her parents.

‘Oh, darling, that's wonderful,' her mother said. ‘I'm so pleased for you.'

‘Can I take you and Dad out to dinner tonight to celebrate?' she asked.

‘That's so lovely of you,' her mother said, ‘but your dad's booked us a surprise break and we're heading out to the airport in about ten minutes. But we'll take you out the day we get back.'

‘OK. That'll be lovely,' Grace said, swallowing her disappointment. ‘Hey. I'd better let you go and finish getting ready. Have a great time, and text me to let me know you arrived safely.'

‘We will. Love you, Gracie,' her mother said. ‘And I'm so proud of you.'

‘Love you, too, Mum,' Grace said.

She tried calling her three closest friends, just in case any of them might be free to celebrate her news with her, but their phones were all switched through to voicemail. By the time she got back to Docklands, Grace was feeling just a bit flat; she had some seriously good news, but nobody to celebrate with. For the first time since she'd broken up with Howard, she felt really alone.

And it made her question all her decisions. Had she done the right thing in cancelling her wedding? Should she have settled for a man who was kind but made her feel like part of the furniture?

She shook herself. No. Of course not. She'd done the right thing for both of them. She and Howard hadn't loved each other enough, and eventually they would've made each other miserable. She just had to get used to her new life. And she had a new job to look forward to—a challenge to meet. Everything was going to be just fine.

‘Nothing fazes a Faraday girl,' she reminded herself out loud.

She knew Roland was busy, but texted the news to him anyway. He didn't reply, and she was cross with herself for being disappointed that he hadn't even had time to text her back saying ‘congrats'. Talk about being an ungrateful, needy brat. ‘Get a grip,' she told herself crossly, ‘and stop being so selfish.'

Half an hour later, the doorbell rang. A woman stood on the doorstep, holding a gorgeous hand-tied floral arrangement and three helium balloons.

‘Grace Faraday?' she asked.

Grace blinked. ‘Yes.'

‘These are for you.' The woman—who looked strangely familiar, even though Grace knew they hadn't met before—handed her the flowers and balloons. She opened the card to find a message from Roland saying,
Well done! Congrats. R x.

‘That's amazing,' she said. ‘How can he arrange something as gorgeous as this at such short notice—especially as practically everywhere is shut at this time of night?'

The delivery woman said drily, ‘Because if your sister's a florist, you can talk her into doing things out of hours.' She looked Grace straight in the eye. ‘He's kept you very quiet. I had no idea he was even seeing someone, let alone
living
with someone.'

This was Roland's little sister? ‘You're Philly?' Grace asked, shocked.

‘Phyllida Devereux of Philly's Flowers,' she confirmed.

Now Grace realised why the woman had looked familiar. Because she looked like Roland; she had the same dark eyes and the same gorgeous smile.

And Philly thought that Grace was living with Roland? Oh, help. She needed to do some damage limitation. Fast. ‘We're not living together. This isn't what you think.'

Philly tipped her head to one side. ‘Care to try me with an explanation?'

Roland wasn't here but, from the way he'd spoken about Philly, Grace was pretty sure they were close. ‘Look, if you're not already on your way somewhere, come in for coffee and I'll explain.'

‘All right.' Philly followed her inside.

Grace played for time while she made coffee. ‘Have you eaten yet tonight?'

‘No.'

‘Then, if you're free, why don't you stay and have dinner with me?' She rummaged in the fridge. ‘Do you like gnocchi with tomato and mascarpone sauce? I apologise in advance that it's shop-bought rather than home-made.'

Philly smiled. ‘It sounds lovely—and Ro never cooks anyway. If I come here, either he orders something in or he makes me cook for us.'

‘And I guess at least this is quick.'

‘Is there anything I can do?' Philly asked.

‘Lay the table?' Grace suggested, pretty sure that Roland's sister knew her way around the kitchen.

‘Deal,' Philly said.

Ten minutes later, they were sitting at Roland's kitchen table with dinner in front of them.

‘All righty. I'm not living with Roland—I'm staying in his guest room,' Grace said. ‘I'm Bella's sister. There was a burst pipe in my flat—which used to be hers—and Bel left me Roland's number in case of emergency. He said if something like that had happened to you, he knew Hugh and Tarq would look after you, so he was going to do the same for me, as I'm Hugh's sister-in-law. And he offered me a place to store my stuff and stay until my flat dries out.'

‘I get that's why you're staying here, but what I
don't
get is why he's sending you flowers.' Philly flapped a dismissive hand. ‘Well, obviously as he asked for helium balloons that said “New Job” and “Congratulations” and I wrote the message on the card, I realise you've just got a new job. But this is my brother we're talking about and he hasn't sent a woman flowers since—' She stopped and narrowed her eyes. ‘I assume you
know
?'

‘About what happened to Lynette? Yes, he told me,' Grace said.

Philly looked thoughtful. ‘And it's something he doesn't talk about very much. So are you seeing each other?'

How could she explain? ‘It's complicated,' Grace prevaricated.

Philly folded her arms. ‘Which tells me nothing. Spill, or I'll make his life a misery until you do—and, trust me, only little sisters can be that annoying.'

Grace smiled. ‘Mine isn't annoying. She's lovely.'

‘I can be lovely. But I'm definitely the annoying variety,' Philly said. ‘Explain complicated.'

‘We're helping each other out for a few weeks. Which are practically at an end.'

Philly frowned. ‘What do you mean by helping each other out? And why is there a time limit?'

Grace knew that this was going to sound bad. ‘He's practising his dating skills on me.'

Philly looked suspicious. ‘And what do you get out of it?'

‘Being swept off my feet.'

‘And what happens at the end of these few weeks? You're going to be just good friends?' Philly added quote marks with her fingers round the last phrase.

Grace felt herself blush. ‘Yes.'

‘And you'd swear that in court?'

‘I'd swear that he doesn't think of me romantically.'

Bad move. Because Philly honed straight in on what Grace hadn't said. ‘But
you
think of
him
that way.'

‘It's not going to happen,' Grace said. ‘I went into this with my eyes open. To be honest, although he says he wants to start dating again, I think he's still in love with Lynette. But if I can help him take those first steps into coming back unto the world, then I'm glad I can do that.'

‘You're in love with him,' Philly said.

‘We barely know each other. We only met briefly at Hugh's wedding and we've known each other a little over two weeks,' Grace protested. But she had a nasty feeling that Philly was right. Even though it wasn't the sensible thing to do, she'd let herself fall for Roland. A man who wasn't available. Which was as stupid as it got.

‘A little over two weeks is long enough.' Philly paused. ‘He's seemed different whenever I've talked to him recently. Now I know why. I think you might be good for him.'

‘It's not going to happen,' Grace repeated. ‘I'm not what he's looking for.' And, even though a part of her really wished that she could be what Roland was looking for, she was sensible enough to know that she didn't fit into his world. She wasn't glamorous and exciting; she was sensible and slightly dull.

* * *

Philly had left
by the time Roland returned, that evening.

‘Thank you for the flowers and balloons,' Grace said.

‘My pleasure.' He inspected them. ‘Philly did a good job.'

‘I like your sister.' Grace paused. ‘I hope you don't mind, but she stayed for dinner.'

‘And interrogated you?' he asked wryly.

‘To be fair, she was delivering flowers to a woman at your house. If I'd been in her shoes, I would've been asking questions, too.' She smiled. ‘Philly's nice.'

‘Yeah, she is.' He paused. ‘What did you tell her?'

‘That you're putting me up while the flat dries out.'

‘And she didn't ask anything else?' He looked sceptical.

Best to admit the truth, Grace thought. ‘She did. So I told her about our deal.'

‘Uh-huh.'

She wasn't going to tell him about what Philly had guessed. Because that was way outside the terms of their deal and he didn't need to know about that. ‘She gets it. I think she's glad you're...' She grimaced. ‘Sorry. That's not tactful.'

‘Planning to get back in the land of the living,' he said. ‘It's fine. I'm sorry I was working and couldn't take you out tonight to celebrate your new job. The flowers were sort of an apology as well as a congratulations.'

‘The flowers are absolutely lovely,' she said.

‘And Bella's away, so you couldn't celebrate with her.'

‘And my parents are going on holiday; they're on their way to the airport now. Plus my friends are all busy. So, actually, I was pretty glad that your sister came round,' she admitted. ‘It stopped me feeling completely like Billy-No-Mates.'

‘I intend to make this up to you tomorrow—that is, if it's not going to mess up any plans you've made?' he asked.

She shook her head. ‘We agreed to keep ourselves free until Hugh and Bella got back, so I haven't made any plans.'

‘Good. It's going to be an early start, so can you be ready for six?'

‘Sure.'

‘Pack for a night away. Nothing bigger than a case you can take in the cabin of a plane. Shoes you can walk in, something dressy, a hat, sunglasses and your passport. And don't ask where we're going.'

‘Because you're not going to tell me.'

‘Humour me. I want to see your face when we get there.' He wrapped his arms round her. ‘Congrats again. I knew you'd do it.'

‘Thank you.' She hugged him back. Funny how the world felt all right again when he was this close to her. But she'd have to get used to being on her own from next week onwards. So she needed to start putting that little bit of distance between them from now on.

CHAPTER NINE

T
HE
NEXT
MORNING
, Grace was ready to leave at six. And Roland refused to tell her anything about where they were going until they were at the airport and their flight was called.

‘We're going to Venice?' Her eyes grew wide in wonder. ‘You're taking me to Venice just for the
day
?'

‘And night,' he corrected. ‘We fly back to London late tomorrow afternoon.'

‘Venice,' she said again, seeming unable to quite take it in.

‘It's my favourite place in the world,' he said.

Then he saw the wariness creep into her expression. He could guess why. ‘Yes, I've been there a few times with Lyn,' he said, ‘but you're not going to be following in her footsteps. This is just you and me. We're celebrating your new job.'

The beginning of her new life. And ending their deal on a high note. He didn't say it, but he was pretty sure she was thinking it, too. He was sticking to the plan. Sweeping her off her feet—and then saying goodbye.

* * *

Venice
.

Who else but Roland would think about going to Venice just for one night? Grace thought.

And she had a feeling that he'd planned this right from the beginning, when she'd first told him that she hadn't travelled much. It would be the perfect end to their perfect few weeks together.

She was very aware that tomorrow was the last day of their agreement. And, as soon as Bella came back from honeymoon and discovered what had happened with the burst pipe, no doubt she'd insist that Grace came to stay with her and Hugh until the flat was habitable again. There was no reason for Grace to remain at Roland's house.

Unless he asked her to stay.

Somehow, she didn't think that was going to happen. Roland's job meant that he was used to planning in advance and working to a schedule. This was no different, really. It had been a short-term project to brush up his dating skills and sweep her off her feet. Mission accomplished, just before the deadline.

So she'd just enjoy this weekend for what it was.

The end.

Roland held her hand all the way on the plane, and when he walked with her to the end of the jetty at the airport. ‘I thought we could take a water taxi into the city,' he said. ‘It's the best way to see Venice for the first time.'

Once they were on the lagoon, Grace understood why he'd suggested bringing a hat and sunglasses. The reflections of the sun on the water were so bright that she would've been squinting without them. ‘Right now, I feel like a princess,' she said.

‘That's the idea,' he said. ‘Watch the horizon.'

The water was pure turquoise and she couldn't make anything out at first. But then she saw rooflines, all spires and domes. As they drew closer, she could see that there were houses packed in tightly along the shoreline, with bridges arching over the entrances to the waterways running through the city.

‘Venice rising from the water—this is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen,' she whispered.

Roland's fingers tightened around hers. ‘And it gets better. Watch.'

As they grew closer, she could see the architecture more clearly. There were shutters at the windows of the houses; plaster peeled away from some of the brickwork, while other houses looked as if they'd been recently restored.

Their driver took them under a bridge, and now they were really in Venice.

‘I've never been in a city without any traffic noise, before,' she said. And it was odd to hear the swish of the waves and hear people talking where she'd usually expect to hear engines revving and horns blasting.

‘What's that building?' she asked. ‘All that latticed plaster reminds me of the icing on a wedding cake.'

‘That's the Palazzo Ducale—the Doge's Palace,' he said. ‘And that tall tower opposite—the one with the red bricks and green roof—is Galileo's Tower.' He smiled at her. ‘We'll walk through St Mark's Square later, so you can have a closer look at them.'

‘Thank you,' she said. Coming here was a treat—but coming here with someone who knew the place and could help her to find all the most interesting bits was better still. And the fact that that someone was Roland...

When their driver moored at the jetty, Roland helped her from the boat.

‘I still can't get over this,' she said. ‘I've seen documentaries and photographs of Venice in magazines, but the real thing is beyond anything I'd dreamed about. I think,' she added shyly, ‘I like this even more than Paris.'

He looked pleased. ‘I hoped you'd like this. Let's check in, and then we can go exploring.'

The hotel was part of an old palazzo; the decor was all cream and navy and gold, with marble flooring and a fountain in the reception area. Roland had booked them a suite with two rooms. Because they were only staying for one night, Grace managed to unpack her overnight case very swiftly.

The streets outside were crowded, yet at the same time it was so much quieter than she was used to in London, without the traffic noises. Gondolas and small rowing boats glided through the narrow canals; there were bridges everywhere, with the sunlight reflecting off the water and dappling the undersides of the bridges.

Shops crowded against each other, offering glass and Venetian masks and marbled paper; tourists posed for photographs on the bridges and in the little squares. ‘All the signs seem to point either to the Rialto or San Marco,' she said in surprise.

‘In this part of the city, they're the two main destinations and all the streets lead to them—though sometimes it's the long way round,' he said with a smile. ‘Let's start at the Rialto. There's a gorgeous view of the Grand Canal from the bridge.'

The marble on the bridge had been worn shiny by countless hands skimming across it; and Grace leaned against the bridge to watch the traffic on the canal go by. When they finished crossing the bridge to go into the marketplace itself, she discovered that it was a sheer delight, full of colour—selling everything from fresh seafood glistening in the sunlight through to tiny wild strawberries and fragrant herbs sold by the handful.

‘This is amazing,' she said.

He glanced at his watch. ‘Wait a second.'

And then suddenly bells were pealing all over the city.

‘Is it a special occasion, or does this happen every day?' she asked.

‘Every day. In the summer it's like aural sunlight; in the winter, especially if it's foggy, it's a little spooky,' he said.

‘I can see why Venice is one of your favourite places,' she said. ‘It's amazing.'

They walked hand in hand through the narrow streets, enjoying all the bustle around them and stopping to buy a
piadina
from one of the street vendors to keep them going over lunchtime. Grace stopped to take photographs of the figures outside some of the mask shops—the terrifying plague doctor with his hooked beak, and the pretty harlequin—and took a selfie of Roland and herself standing on a bridge with a gondola gliding behind them. ‘Do you mind me being horribly touristy?' she asked.

‘Not a bit.' He smiled. ‘Actually, I'm enjoying seeing how much you like Venice.'

‘It's gorgeous,' she said. ‘I know I keep saying it, but it's like... Venice is just like nowhere else I've ever been.'

‘If you don't mind us doing a whistlestop tour,' he said, ‘we can go take a look at the basilica and the Doge's Palace.'

‘But you've seen it all before,' she said.

He shrugged. ‘You know I never pass up the opportunity to look at architecture. And besides, you can't come to Venice and not see the
quadriga—
the four horses. They've been in Venice for more than eight hundred years.'

Grace thoroughly enjoyed their tour of the cathedral and the palace, especially as Roland turned out to be a mine of information about the buildings. And she loved the fact that he took a selfie of them on the loggia of the basilica, next to the replicas of the four bronze horses.

Right now, she thought wistfully, this felt like a honeymoon. Though she knew she was being ridiculous. Roland hadn't given her any signals that he wanted their relationship to continue past their agreement, let alone anything more. They'd known each other for only a few weeks; it was way, way too soon to fall in love.

Stop being greedy, she reminded herself. Just enjoy every second of this and stop wishing for something you're not going to get.

‘I thought we'd have dinner early,' he said, ‘because there's something else you absolutely have to do in Venice.'

‘Bring it on,' Grace said with a smile.

Roland found a little tucked away restaurant. ‘My Italian's a bit scrappy,' he said, ‘but I can get by. What would you like to eat?'

‘A Venetian speciality,' she said.

‘Let's ask the waiter what he recommends,' he said. ‘But for pudding I'd say it has to be tiramisu in the area where it was invented.'

The waiter recommended
sarde in saor
—sardines in a sweet and sour sauce—followed by
polenta e schie
—tiny Venetian shrimps on a bed of white polenta. And the tiramisu was the best Grace had ever, ever tasted.

‘This is perfect,' she said. ‘Thank you so much.'

But the best was what Roland had arranged for after coffee.

‘I wanted to eat early,' he said, ‘so we'd get to see the sunset.'

And then she discovered where he'd planned their viewpoint to be: from the seat of a gondola.

Their gondolier wore the traditional black trousers, striped jersey and straw hat; he guided them through the narrow waterways, using his pole to propel them and pushing his body against it to help them turn the odd corner. To Grace's delight he actually serenaded them in a mellow tenor voice.

The sunset itself was the most romantic thing she'd ever seen: the sun sinking, the sky turning shades of orange and apricot with the domes and towers of the city silhouetted against it, and the turquoise waters of the Grand Canal changing to reflect the deep tones of the sky.

She was too moved to say a word; she leaned her head against Roland's shoulder, drinking in the view and enjoying his nearness. He held her close, and again this felt so much like a honeymoon.

The gondolier took them through the narrow waterways again, which had turned almost inky to reflect the darkened sky; reflections from little globe-shaped lamps flickered on the water. ‘This is so pretty,' she said. ‘Thank you so much.'

‘My pleasure,' he said, and stole a kiss.

They lapsed back into companionable silence; then, as a covered walkway rose in front of them, Roland said, ‘This is the Bridge of Sighs. It's traditional to kiss underneath it.'

What else could she do but kiss him as the gondola glided underneath the bridge?

‘This was the perfect end to a perfect evening,' she said as the gondolier tied up the boat at the jetty by St Mark's Square and helped them off the gondola.

‘We haven't finished quite yet,' Roland said. ‘Remember tangoing by the Seine? Now we're going to do the same in St Mark's Square. Well, not necessarily dance the tango—it depends what they're playing.'

As they walked into the square, lit by more of the pretty globe-shaped lights, Grace realised what he meant. There were tables and chairs outside Florian's and Quadri's, the two oldest
caffès
in the city, and a couple of small bands played on stages underneath gazebos.

Roland spun her into his arms and began to dance with her. Other couples were doing the same, she noticed, so instead of protesting that they were going to make a spectacle of themselves, she relaxed and gave herself up to the sheer pleasure of being held by Roland.

* * *

Grace looked so
beautiful in the soft light of the square, Roland thought. Tonight, she was really shining—relaxed, happy, enjoying the music and the dancing and the sheer romance that was Venice.

And he, too, was being seduced by the place. To the point that when they got back to the hotel and he'd unlocked the door to their suite, he actually picked her up and carried her across the threshold.

Then he realised what he was doing, and set her back down on her feet. ‘Sorry. I got a bit carried away.'

She smiled and reached up to stroke his face. ‘I think you were doing the carrying. Literally. And the answer's yes.'

He sucked in a breath. Was she saying...? ‘But—'

She pressed a finger lightly against his lips. ‘No strings,' she said. ‘That's what we agreed. And tonight's just you and me and Venice.'

‘Are you sure about this?' he asked.

Her eyes were almost navy in the low light. ‘I'm very sure.'

‘Grace, you don't owe me anything. I didn't bring you here expecting you to sleep with me in exchange for the trip.'

‘I know, and that's not why I'm saying yes.' She took a deep breath. ‘It's because I want to. I know there are no strings and this is just temporary between you and me—but you've swept me off my feet this far, so let's go the whole way.'

He needed no further encouragement. He picked her up and carried her across the threshold to his bedroom.

And then he got to live out the dream he'd had the previous weekend. Unzipping her dress, sliding it off her shoulders, kissing every centimetre of skin he revealed—and finally losing himself in her warm sweet depths.

That night he fell asleep with his arms wrapped round her and her arms wrapped round him, feeling more at peace with himself than he had in way too long.

* * *

The next morning, Roland woke first. Guilt flooded through him. He really had let the romance of Venice carry off his common sense, last night. Even though Grace had told him that she was sure, he shouldn't have let things go this far.