Page 117 of The Jealous Girl

Ryan sighed. ‘Just pick somewhere.’

I froze.

‘Erm…’ My mind went blank. I couldn’t think of a single restaurant. ‘That Italian we like,’ I muttered finally.

Ryan grunted but didn’t look impressed. Had I picked the wrong place?

‘Unless you’d prefer somewhere else?’

‘I make decisions all day, Kirsty. Can’t you just make one?’

I drew back.

‘Italian,’ I repeated quietly.

He turned and walked out of the kitchen.

I stared at his back, a familiar feeling pressing against me.

I’d made the wrong choice. I’d irritated him.

Again.

Two Years Ago – Mid September

‘Which way do you want to go?’ Ryan asked as we stepped off the ferry and wandered past the visitor centre. We stopped at the signpost where the path split in different directions.

I smiled. ‘I don’t mind. I’ve never been to Brownsea Island before. Everything looked beautiful online.’

His gaze flicked between the signs, his jaw tightening as he weighed up the options, as though the choice mattered more than I realised.

‘How about the bird reserve?’ I suggested, pointing towards the path on the right. ‘I think it loops around the lagoon before rejoining the woodland path again,’ I said, recalling what I’d read on the website.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Let’s do that.’

We fell into step, our hands automatically finding each other as we followed the dirt path towards the wooden boardwalk.

‘It’s so quiet,’ I whispered, conscious of the slight creak of the boards beneath our feet. I didn’t want to disturb the birds. Not that I was really interested in birdwatching. I hadn’t chosen this route for them. I’d chosen it for us.

The boardwalk winding through the marsh, between tall grasses and reeds had looked so serene and romantic online. I’d imagined us meandering along it, talking about everything and nothing. Simply reconnecting.

And now, we were here. Away from Blackwater. Away from Ryan’s family. Away from Charlotte.

Just us.

The moment the ferry had pulled away from Poole Quay, I’d felt the tightness inside me loosen. Only then had I allowed myself to believe we’d have the whole day to ourselves. Ryan couldn’t get off a moving boat.

I knew my logic was flawed. His parents or Charlotte could still call. He could catch the next ferry back if he wanted to. But maybe the phone signal out here would be weak. Maybe, for a little while, he’d just be with me.

I needed that.

Needed him.

Ryan didn’t say anything. Part of me was disappointed. I’d wanted us to be how we were before. Chatting. Laughing. I took a deep breath, the stillness of our surroundings felt calming. Maybe it was okay to be quiet for a while. To share this together.

I felt strangely conflicted as we reached the end of the boardwalk and rejoined the dirt path through the woodland. Perhaps we would talk now. Or perhaps we wouldn’t…

‘Hungry?’ Ryan asked as we reached a clearing overlooking the beach below. ‘This would be a good spot for our picnic.’