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My own lungs roll out a huff when I approach the farm shop. I can see sweetcorn already from ten feet away through the window, great big cobs of it piled high in a wicker basket. I’ll browse first, I decide. Maybe get some extra salad. Or more bread. You can never have too much bread with a barbecue. Everything goes well on a sandwich. I’m going to head there first, to the bread, because I know where that is from my last trip here. It’s at the back of the shop, past the till, next to the cakes. So off I go, leisurely strolling, humming to a song that’s been in my head since it aired on the radio this morning, making my way past the eggs…when my two lives collide right in front of my fucking face.
“Laurence?”
Chapter Twelve
Laurence
“Laurence?”
William? I turn my attention away from my sister-in-law at the counter. Shit. The colour drains from William’s face in slow motion, like a cartoon. He’s going to think I’ve done this on purpose. “Hi. You’re still here?” I keep my voice airy, as if I’ve just spotted an old pal.
“Uh, y-yeah. Yeah. Here I am. And here you are.”
Fucking hell. He’s losing it. Stuttering. Clearing his throat. Not knowing where to put his hands. He might as well just tell Josie he’s dreamt of fucking me at this rate, because I know he has.
“Josie, can you give us a minute, hen?”
She gives me a look, a dressing down with her eyes. “This is my shop. I’m working.”
I scan the aisles. “There’s no one here. Just a minute, aye?”
She rolls her eyes to make her frustration known but proceeds to do it anyway. “Guess the shelves could do with a tidy.”
I flash her a wink and a smile, wait till she’s out of earshot, and turn to William. “Could you act any guiltier?”
“What are you doing here?” he whisper shouts while constantly checking over his shoulder for prying eyes.
“I’m here to see my family.”
“So…you knew you were coming this weekend. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew it would play on your mind, and that you needed time with your family. Without thoughts of me.”
He coughs out a single chuckle of laughter, dripping with sarcasm. “And seeing you in the flesh won’t make me think of you?”
“In my defence…” I catch Josie spying, spot her nosying above the jars of jam in our direction. I grin, salute her, keep my expression jovial and my voice quiet while I continue. “You were supposed to go home this morning. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Right,” he agrees, melting now. “Fuck.”
“I don’t want to state the obvious, but you kinda need to get your act together here, William, if you don’t want anyone to suspect anything.”
“You can’t meet my wife,” is what he takes from that.
“Believe it or not, I don’t have a burning desire to meet your wife. But I’m also not going to spend the weekend hiding out in the fertiliser shed.”
“No, of course…I didn’t…shit.” He lets the counter take some of his weight, leaning against it as he rubs at the budding beard covering his jaw. I’ve never seen him at this level of unshaven, the delicate cusp between scruffy and hot. I watch as his head turns, as his eyes meet mine and his tight lips soften into a hint of a smile. “It’s good to see you,” he eventually says and, fuck, what I wouldn’t give to pin him to that damn counter and bring his mouth to mine.
But I can’t. Because his wife and children are a literal walk away. Because my sister-in-law is extremely bad at pretending not to glimpse at our interactions through the produce. Because if I kiss him, I’ll forget all the reasons I shouldn’t.
“Aye,” is what I go for. I have to force myself to end it there, physically bite the inside of my lip to prevent asking him to meet me later. Thankfully, an unknowing customer aids my resolve, entering the shop and setting the little bell above the door in motion.
Josie springs into action, greeting the older gentleman by his name. A regular then, I presume. Within seconds, she’s back at the counter, and William’s stance has reverted to stiff and awkward.
“Okay,” William says, clapping his hands together. “I should be off.”
“You didn’t buy anything,” Josie notes. “Did you not find what you’re looking for? Because I can check in the back.”
“Right. Right.” William nods, starts gesturing with his hands. Honestly, he looks like he’s just been caught giving me a handie behind the baguette basket, not forgot his shopping list. It’d be easy to find amusing, adorable even, but instead it hits me that this situation is causing him pain. Pain I’m responsible for.
I’m not quite sure how to process that.
