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“I’m staying in Tregethworth and starting a business with my mum and sister.”
“Well, congratulations.” I raise my bottle of beer, and she clinks with her glass. “If you don’t mind me asking, what changed your mind?”
“Honestly, it was several things. And you were one of them.” She shifts in her seat, and I can tell this conversation has strayed into uncomfortable waters for her. “Molly gave me some advice. So did my mum and even Tegan. But telling you the truth, getting all of that built up emotion out, hearing your side of what was between us … it all helped me see that running wouldn’t be the answer this time. Letting people in is important and something I’ve been very good at stopping over the years.” She stands and takes her wine glass to the edge of the small wall separating us from the bank of the cliff.
I follow, resting my forearms on the cold stone.
“I left Tregethworth thinking that being a success would wipe out my misery and vindicate my feelings. But it didn’t. It drove me in a particular direction that turned out to be a failure. So, I’m trying something different this time. Facing up to my fears. Dealing with my emotions and learning from my mistakes.” She swallows the last of her wine.
“I hope you don’t think we were a mistake?”
“For a long time, I thought we were. I thought I was stupid for falling for my first boyfriend. A holiday fling. The boy who got me pregnant. I was ashamed, in a way. But I can see that was just the pain talking.”
“Thank you.”
She looks at me with a quizzical expression, the wind sweeping strands of her dark hair over her face. “For what?”
“For talking. Opening up and being honest.” The urge to brush her hair from her face eats away at me, but I don’t. I’ve been patient. I’ve been hurt, but we’re finally on speaking terms. Now isn’t the time to push.
Her shoulders drop a little, and she turns back to the sea. “I said I’d try at this friend thing.”
“I know. May I walk you home?”
She takes a deep breath as if gathering strength. “Sure.”
We walk the familiar path in awkward silence, and I think of our first date after we both came back—how all I could think about then was getting back the girl I’d been waiting for.
“Thank you for the drink.”
“Anytime.” She stops at her door and turns to me, but I keep a respectful distance.
“What, no kiss goodnight?” she teases.
Well, I can tease, too. I step closer and watch as her eyes come alight. She might say she only wants to be friends, but the more time we spend together, the harder that line will be to stay on. I brush my lips to her cheek and leaning in, I whisper, “The next time I kiss you, it won’t be a polite peck on the cheek. That’s not what I want from you, Zee. When I kiss you again, and I will, it will be possessive, full, and leave no doubt in your mind as to whether we’re still just friends. Understand?” When I pull back, I raise my eyebrows before turning around and walking home.
Over the next few days, I settle into a routine and focus on work. I’ve been distracted of late, which isn’t what my business needs right now. There’s a lot to organise and get to grips with.
The shop is fine, new lines, brands, and boards are all coming in already, but we are getting bookings and enquiries about the surf school, and there are two positions I need to fill. Ideally, level two instructors, but I’ll take a level one if they are the right fit.
If things go well, we’ll look at expanding what we offer. Paddleboarding is becoming more and more popular, and the cliffs that Zee and I jumped from when we were teenagers would offer perfect coasteering options.
Back in Nazaré, the lads and I all completed an international surf coach safety and rescue qualification. It was essential but didn’t give you a magic shield against dangers. You had to do whatever you could to be safe in the water, and my experience of rip tides, unfavourable surf, and dangerous waters would far outweigh any of the locals here.
But inexperienced surfers are a new risk altogether, and I need to make sure everyone will be as safe as possible in the water with us.
As for being an instructor, I still have hours to log. The rest of the course is a breeze, but actually teaching people and kids to surf is what I need to get to grips with. And I want experienced staff to hit the ground running.
Rob, surprisingly, isn’t an instructor, although he is a solid surfer. He’s set up some interviews for next week, and the delivery of training boards and hire suits are due later today. The kit that came with the purchase of the store didn’t cut it for me, and it was time to put some of the many contacts I’d made over the years to good use.
“Jayce, phone!” Rob calls from the front of the store.
“Who is it?” I walk through to see Rob holding out the phone for me.
“Tegan. About surf lessons. She said you spoke to her.” He shrugs.
I take the phone from him and meander towards the back of the shop and the delivery area. “Hi, this is Jayce.”
“Jayce, this is Tegan. Zennor’s sister.”
