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Adeline shot him a look of impatience. “It’s not a good time, mum. We’ve packed most of the kitchen up.”
“But we still have tea bags.” And then, in a stage whisper, “Don’t be so rude, Addie! That’s not how I raised you.”
Adeline’s eyes swept shut for a moment and Guy pushed down on the ridiculous desire to defend her.
“A tea would be welcome,” he said thickly, his eyes holding Adeline’s. “I have been travelling all day.”
“Fine,” she snapped, storming down the hallway, leaving Guy alone with her mother.
“I’m Sylvie,” the older woman said.
“Guillem Rodriguez,” he returned, studying the older woman for a glimmer of recognition. There was none. Addie hadn’t mentioned him, then. “Guy.”
Still no sign that she had ever heard of him.
Why did that surprise him? Just because Adeline had spent a week with his family didn’t mean she’d spoken to her family about him.
As they moved deeper into the house he realized why Adeline looked like an extra on a building site.
They were moving.
A kernel of something unpleasant unfurled in his gut.
She hadn’t mentioned this. She’d only spoken about her house in passing, but it had been with a sense of love.
My house is like that, she’d said, when he’d spoken of his love for the island. The memories that ghosted through these walls for her. Memories of her father and brother. Another twisting of the knife as the enormity of what he’d done sunk through him.
“You’re moving?” He asked Sylvie conversationally, as they neared the kitchen, the question giving no indication of his inner-turmoil. It was just the bare bones, a few mugs on the side of the sink, a kettle. The windows looked out over another very charming garden, with a small pond at the back.
Sylvie’s cheeks paled and she nodded, stepping away from him. Emotions were thick in the air.
“After thirty years,” she said, finally, putting her at slightly older than Guy had guessed. “I never thought I would.”
Addie’s smile was overbright as she sloshed water into the mugs. “It’s time for a new adventure, mum.” She lifted the teabags out, one by one, but stood for a moment staring at the drinks, bracing herself on the edge of the counter.
Guy ached to reach out for her, to comfort her. She was in pain, and he wanted to take it away. How ironic, given that he’d spent a significant portion of their relationship inflicting emotional wounds on her.
“Tea done?” Sylvie asked, moving over and lifting one up without waiting for an answer. “I’ll get back to the pictures. I’ll just wrap them all for now, shall I, love?”
Addie didn’t say anything.
“Darling? The pictures?”
“Oh.” Addie nodded, another weak smile on her face. “Yeah. I’ll sort them once I… later.”
Sylvie nodded, taking herself and her tea from the room.
They were alone, and Guy, uncharacteristically, had no idea what to say. He stared at Addie for a long moment and then moved closer, his expression grim.
“You’ve sold your house.” He didn’t even want to follow that thought through. There was only one reason for her to sell the house – she still needed money. She’d sold the house rather than accept his cheque.
She’d sold somewhere that was a beacon of her childhood, filled with important memories, because she preferred that to accepting his help.
Except he hadn’t offered help. His eyes swept shut for a moment. He’d offered money in exchange for more lies. For sex. He’d trapped her on an island and he’d made her miserable in every way at his disposal.
“Yes.” Addie’s response was softly spoken but it might as well have been shouted against Guy’s heart.
“Why?” He asked, the question heavy between them. He propped his hips against the counter, so close he could catch the faintest hint of her sweet vanilla fragrance.
