Page 80 of If We Were Young

His chest fell, his shoulders dropping, and his sigh could have washed me out to sea.

“I guess you should ring and tell Amanda there was a mistake with the booking. She might be funny about us bunking together.” I scrutinised him from under my lashes.

“Why would I do that?” His brows pulled together.

“She doesn’t strike me as a woman who doesn’t like to be in the know.”

“She’s a pain in my arse and make no mistake.”

“Quite.” Gah, this hurt right down in the depths of my stomach. Every moment with him suspended between heaven and hell. I turned on my side and faced the wall of the cabin. “I’m going to sleep.”

“I mean,” he continued, “families are a nightmare anyway, but having your cousin trailing you and bossing you around all the time is a total ball-ache.”

His what?”

I turned back. “Matty?”

“She’s called me that since I was five and she realised it made me angry.”

“Mother?”

“She’s my dad’s sister’s daughter, but her and Mum are very close. Annoyingly so.”

“Not your girlfriend?”

His lips curved. “Still trying to get rid of a wife. I don’t need a girlfriend too.”

Quite. Right.

“Dinner? Please, Ronnie? I am sorry.”

“I think it’s best we don’t.”

The blue of his eyes hardened with icy depths. “Fine.”

“Okay, fine.”

He shot me one last laser intense glance and then walked back to the door, opening it and then swinging it shut behind him without another word.

This trip would be long.

I needed to get my head in the game.

So, him and Amanda…

What did he mean he hated the thought of me being in love with someone else? Surely he must know? I’d had written it all over my face for eighteen years.

With a deep shudder, I thought back to the previous night and us standing out in the rain. His half-promised kiss pressed to the edge of my mouth.

He was my Matthew last night.

Time had suspended and we’d been just as we always were. More maybe. We were us, but with a kiss.

Today, once again, he was a man I didn’t know. I had no clue how to contend with that. I didn’t know how to sleep in this cabin with him on the bed below and how for it not to ache in dark and desperate places.

I jumped as the door opened again and he walked back in. “Here, I got us some sandwiches.” He thrust a bag at me. “I’m going to get changed. I can’t sit in a suit all night.” His gaze drifted across my face, but I was too busy opening and shutting my mouth to come up with a response.

He’s going to get changed?