Love You Better (2 page)

It was true. Despite her glass never being empty, the alcohol had taken no effect on her whatsoever, which meant that it really
was
him standing so close she could practically hear him breathing. She swallowed and opened her eyes. Slowly, she tracked her gaze up from the black Converse on his feet, over his trouser-covered legs and his close-fitted, sky-blue shirt. Her heart skipped as she looked at the tattoos etched into his arms, exposed by his rolled-up shirtsleeves, the cold air apparently having no effect on him at all. The breath was knocked out of her when she looked past his coat of stubble and up into the pair of grey eyes staring back at her.

Smith.

‘Lace always did suit you.’

He looked her up and down, his eyes trailing a blaze over the intricate dress hugging her body, and then stuffed his hands in his pockets. The only lace he’d ever seen her in before had always been hidden under her clothes. It was all she could do not to run away. Or reach out and touch him – she wasn’t sure which. She gripped her tiny clutch bag, just in case.

‘What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on the other side of the world.’

He looked out at the river and shrugged. ‘Money ran out.’

She’d forgotten what a great profile he had, with his beautifully straight nose and strong jaw. His top shirt button was undone, and she looked at the strand of brown leather around his neck, tapering off to hold a horn-shaped pendant. She looked back at the doors she’d just come through and prayed nobody would come outside. She didn’t want anyone to see him standing there. In fact, she wanted him to disappear altogether, like he had five months ago, because now that he was standing in front of her, her stomach was fluttering and her pulse was racing, the way it always had with him – the way it hadn’t for a long time. Before, it would have
been a
pleasurable feeling, but now all she felt was sick. His leaving had made her life a whole lot easier and happier, and she didn’t need him to come back and wreck it all over again.

‘So, who’s the lucky guy?’

Why did the sound of his voice make her skin bloom with goosebumps? She rubbed her arms, demanding they go away, and squared her shoulders as she jutted out her chin.

‘Why does it matter?’

He smirked, and she had to restrain herself from wiping it off his face. ‘The old crowd in there?’

‘Some.’

‘Mixing with Hoorah Henries . . . I guess things really have changed.’

Effie sighed with irritation and shook her head. Oliver wasn’t a Hoorah Henry, and Smith had no right to call him that.

‘You don’t look pleased to see me.’

‘That’s because I’m not. You attract trouble like shit attr
acts fl
ies.’

‘Ouch. What, are you worried I’ll screw up your happy day?’

‘Why else would you be here? You always screw things up.’

He shrugged. ‘I was curious. I wanted to see what was so great about whoever he is that had you skipping up the aisle so quickly.’

She scowled. ‘It wasn’t that quick.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Less than a month after I leave, I hear you’ve got with someone else, and now you’re married. Hardly taking your time, is it?’

‘So? Why do you care? What do you want me to say? That
I’m sorry?
’

‘Only if you mean it.’

She studied the trees behind him, lit up with fairy lights, fighting to keep her breath steady as anger pulsed through her. She’d been euphoric all day, but just a few moments with Smith were enough to bring it all crashing down. Causing problems was one of the few things Smith could be counted on for, and she didn’t need it. She’d had enough to last her a lifetime. It was her wedding day, and they were surrounded by influential, respectable people. Thanks to Oliver, she was one of them now. She wasn’t sorry for the turn her life had taken. She finally had everything she had ever wanted, and she wasn’t about to let Smith ruin it all.

‘You mean like you apologised for all the stuff you did? It’s funny, because I don’t remember you ever saying sorry for shagging around behind my back.’

‘Come on, Eff – it wasn’t as simple as that.’

‘Do you know what, Smith? I don’t care anymore. Really,
I d
on’t. And if you’re seriously waiting to hear me say sorry for moving on, then I suggest you go and hold your breath.’

She bent down to pick her shoes up and stalked away from him. Why was he here, ruining everything? Her life was so much simpler now. It was easy, stable and reliable, and she could trust Oliver in a way she never could Smith. She never had to analyse with Oliver. She always knew where she stood, without question. Smith, on the other hand, was a walking enigma, and she’d failed to solve it.

‘I hope it’s worth it,’ he called after her.

‘It is,’ Effie replied without turning back. ‘
He
is.’

‘Well then, I wish you nothing but happiness.’ His voice dripped with sarcasm, and she stopped, gripping the shoes in her hand. She turned and walked back over to him.

‘Why did you really come back?’

His excuse about money was balls. Travelling was one of the things he always used to talk about, and a year around the world was his dream come true. It had come about after a dire chain of events, but even still, he’d used the money left to him by his grandpa, and there was no way he could’ve spent twenty grand already.

He stared back at her with his grey eyes. ‘I had to see if it w
as tru
e.’

‘If what was true?’

‘You. Getting married to someone you barely even know, for no good reason.’

Behind him, Lou came through the doors, holding two glasses of champagne, and her jaw dropped, her mouth forming a
perfect O
when she saw the two of them standing inches apart. Effie looked over Smith’s shoulder at her as Lou discreetly jerked her head to one side, and Oliver followed her through the doors.

Oliver smiled when he saw her. ‘There you are.’

Effie froze with panic at the sound of Oliver’s voice, and Lou scarpered, closing the door behind her in a vain attempt to
protect
the wedding guests from the impending drama about to be unleashed outside.

‘I thought you might need this – it’s cold out here,’ Oliver said, holding the faux fur shrug to match her dress. He looked at Smith, and Effie opened her mouth. Why weren’t the words coming out to explain who Smith was?

‘I’m Smith.’ He outstretched a hand, breaking the silence.
‘I ta
ke it you’re the husband.’

‘Guilty as charged. Oliver Barton-Cole.’ Oliver laughed, his perfectly pronounced words sounding woefully out of place as he shook Smith’s hand.

She looked at the two of them. Oliver stood a couple of inches taller than Smith, and in his smart tux, he looked devastatingly handsome and every bit the charming, thirty-year-old man with the world at his feet. Smith’s naturally rugged edge stripped away any kind of respectability the suit should have given him and left him looking like the brooding, dangerous kind of guy that any woman in her right mind would do her best to avoid. Effie couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Smith looked from Effie to Oliver and back again. ‘I’d better leave you to it.’

‘You’re not staying?’ Oliver asked, and Smith shook his head.

‘Nah, I’ve got places to be. I just wanted to give my congrats.’ He looked at Effie and nodded. ‘Nice seeing you
again, E
ff.’

She looked away from him as he left. It hadn’t been nice seeing him – it was the complete opposite in fact. It had made her head fight for control over the natural impulses of her body, the impulses that Smith had always elicited in her.

Oliver put the shrug around her shoulders, and her body sighed under its warmth. After Smith’s unexpected appearance, the shrug was almost as comforting as Oliver’s reassuring presence.

‘Who was that?’ Oliver asked, stroking the back of her neck as he watched Smith leave.

‘Smith. He used to hang out with us.’

‘Did we invite him?’

She shook her head, trembling. ‘Definitely not. He’s nothing but trouble.’

‘Speaking of trouble, if I don’t get you out of this dress soon, I’m going to end up getting arrested for harassment.’

He nuzzled her neck, but all Effie could think about were the grey eyes that had stared back at her and rocked her world.

2.

T
urquoise water stretched for as far as Effie could see, punctuated by brightly coloured fishing boats and a few huge slabs of rock, poking out from the seabed like
pillars. T
he last ten days had been bliss: snorkelling with tropical fish in
the crystal
-clear, coral-lined waters, sleeping in and sunbathing.

Lifting the brim of her enormous sun hat, she watched Oliver as he emerged from the sea. His skin had bronzed in the sun, and water ran in streaks down his chest, clinging to his abs. He jogged across the sand and kissed her, sending tiny drops of water onto
her ch
est.

‘Morning, sleepyhead. Have you had breakfast yet?’

Effie shook her head. She’d gorged herself from the moment they’d arrived on Koh Tao, with enormous, juicy tiger prawns drenched in lemon and garlic sauce, mouth-watering curries and the best pad thai she’d ever tasted, not to mention a frankly overindulgent amount of mangos.

‘How was the swim?’

‘Amazing,’ Oliver replied, grabbing the towel from the back of the lounger next to her. ‘You should go in.’

‘Maybe later.’

As beautiful as the sea was, she could do without the disastrous effect it would have on her hair today, but nothing could stop him. He’d headed out for a swim every morning and usually followed it up with a run.

‘Later might be tricky. We’ve got plans today.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘We do?’

Aside from finishing her book and topping up her tan, she hadn’t planned on doing anything else. The sun was doing a great job of enhancing her already brown skin, and they only had two days left before returning to the depressingly bleak London winter.

She took her hat off and shook out her frizzy curls. ‘Where are we going?’

‘It’s a surprise,’ Oliver replied, throwing the towel down on the ground. ‘Christ, you look good.’

She grinned as he climbed astride her on the sunlounger, his blonde hair glistening in the sunlight.

‘Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?’

Effie raised an eyebrow and lifted her thigh between his legs.
‘I thi
nk the whole of Thailand does.’

He leaned down to kiss her, and for what felt like the millionth time over the last ten days, she thanked god for Lou and her skills of persuasion. If she hadn’t dragged a heartbroken Effie out of her bed for that night out back in July, she would never have met Oliver, and she wouldn’t be on this paradise island now.

She broke away from his kiss, and he looked down at her with a frown. ‘What?’

‘We can’t.’ Effie glanced around at the beach.

‘Can’t what?’ he mumbled into the hollow in her throat as he stroked his hand down over her bikini top, pushing a triangular strip of material to one side.

‘You know what.’

‘Nobody’s around – it’s fine.’

The beach stretched for miles on either side, and there was nobody else around, but still, she didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of getting frisky on a public beach, whether they were alone or not. Oliver’s blue eyes twinkled, and he grinned at her before leaning in for another kiss. Maybe she was being too prim. Effie lay back on her lounger and ran her hands over her husband’s shoulders. Husband. Could she ever get tired of the word?

I’m going to die.

Effie’s stomach churned as her heart raced under her light cotton shirt. After their risqué sex on the beach, Oliver revealed her surprise – a bike ride to Mango Lookout Point, apparently an absolute must for sunset views across the tiny island of Koh Tao. It wasn’t exactly the kind of surprise she’d had in mind,
amazing views
translating as
heights
in her head.

‘The view will be fantastic,’ Oliver had said, oblivious to the reluctance on Effie’s face as he mounted the scooter.

She was no Girl Guide, but she was willing to bet it would involve driving off road, and she’d seen enough of the island to know it would be a bumpy ride. He’d given her the camera and waited for her to get on behind him. As they made their way up the insanely steep road surrounded by lush forest, she clung to Oliver as tightly as she could, only letting go when he stopped to admire the view. Each time, he’d asked how she was, and each time she’d replied that she was fine, despite being anything but. She was utterly terrified. Smith drove a motorbike, and she’d been on the back of it countless times before, but she’d never felt this vulnerable, and
Oliver’s
speed as they took the bends didn’t help.

‘Can you slow down?’ she shouted so he’d hear her through his helmet. They sped up the slope, and try as she might, she couldn’t stop herself from looking over her shoulder. She tightened her arms around him. ‘Olly, slow down.’

‘It’s fine – stop fussing.’

He sounded so sure of himself, but she gulped as they turned yet another hairpin bend. She didn’t want to end up hurtling forty feet to a grisly death, and if it wasn’t caused by their speed, it would likely be caused by the other cars on the road. Everyone they’d passed had sped by, confidently familiar with the road layout, and they were as vulnerable on their tiny 125cc scooter as a fly in a spider’s web. She swallowed against the nausea hitting her like tidal swells and kept her head down, pressed against Oliver’s back, but as they approached an S-bend, they skirted way too close to the edge.

‘Olly, what the hell are you doing? Slow down.’

‘Relax.’

‘You can’t go any closer – we’ll fall off.’

‘God, Effie, just let me drive, will you?’

Her sense of balance disappeared, leaving her with only dizziness for company. They were going to lurch to the side and fall off the bike at any minute.

‘Stop and let me off.’

‘Calm down, Effie, for god’s sake,’ he shouted, twisting his head round to face her.

He wasn’t going to stop. She had no choice but to stay on the death-trap bike until they reached the top. She squeezed her eyes shut. What if they lost traction and spun out of control? They would go head first down the ravine and end up in a crumpled heap below. Nobody knew where they were; they’d be hidden under a thick layer of trees and wouldn’t be found for days. She’d seen tens of backpackers hobbling around with iodine-stained bandages from scooter mishaps, and every story she’d ever heard about travellers meeting untimely deaths on foreign roads rolled around her head.

We’re riding up a mountain on a dodgy bike with crap, badly fitted helmets. We’re going to die.

Her head swam with morbid images and headlines. She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs were aching for air, her helmet seemed to be getting smaller, and she felt like she was about to throw up. She tried shouting again to ask him to stop the bike, but it was too late, and she heaved over the side.

The bike skidded to a halt, and Effie clambered off to run to the side of the road. She stood, retching, as she held on to the craggy rock face.

‘Jesus, Effie, what’s wrong with you?’ he shouted.

She spat on the ground, her legs shaking so much it was a miracle they were still managing to hold her up.

‘What do you think? I asked you to slow down.’

‘If we’d been going any slower, we’d have lost balance.’

She looked up at him as he stormed off back to the bike and lifted the seat to get a bottle of water. It didn’t take a rocket
scientist
to see that he was angry as he slammed the seat back down and marched towards her, holding the bottle out, with a face like thunder. She looked past him at the bike. He hadn’t even asked if she was feeling better, and she fought to keep the tears inside. She’d never seen him lose his temper like that. He was usually so cool and collected, but she had to remind herself that he was only human. He’d have to get angry at some point; it was inevitable. It was just a shame it had to happen on their honeymoon. The last thing she wanted was to argue, especially when the day had got off to such a great start.

‘I knew what I was doing, Effie. You didn’t have to freak out.’

‘Well
you
didn’t have to go so close to the edge,’ she muttered, snatching the bottle.

‘It was either that or drive over those potholes, which would’ve been a lot worse.

She looked away and took a sip of the lukewarm water. There was no denying there were a lot of potholes, but to her mind that should have meant driving slower, not trying to become the next Valentino Rossi.

‘I was in control. There was no need to second-guess me. You either trust me or you don’t.’

She’d asked a billion times for him to slow down, to stay away from the edge and not to brake too hard, but he hadn’t listened. She looked up at him as he stood with his hands on his hips. His eyebrows were pulled tightly together, and his mouth was set into a furious scowl.

‘You know I do.’

‘Good.’ His face softened, and he held out a hand to help her up. ‘We’ve not got long to go now anyway.’

She took his hand and slowly walked back to the bike. Maybe he was right. Maybe she had overreacted. When he sat back down on the bike and looked up at her, she took a deep breath.

‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled, passing the bottle of water from one hand to the other.

He shook his head. ‘It’s fine. Just try to relax, okay?’

Effie nodded and climbed on behind him, willing her nerves to stay calm. Twenty minutes later, Oliver parked up and took her hand, leading her to the lookout point. She held on to him as tightly as she could and breathed a sigh of relief when they stopped a few feet from the edge. Thanks to her being sick, they’d missed the
sunset
, but the sky was still cast with a warm, orange glow. Oliver sat on the ground and pulled her down with him before kissing her shoulder.

‘Are you feeling better?’

Effie nodded and blushed. ‘I’m sorry about earlier. I totally overreacted.’

‘What happened back there?’

‘I just hate heights. Always have.’ She sighed, replaying the way she’d leapt from the bike in her head.

‘But you sat on a plane for twelve hours at thirty-five tho
usand feet
.’

‘Yeah, and I also drank enough wine to send me to sleep for most of it.’ She gave him a wry smile, and a frown flickered across his face,

‘I’m sorry.’ He kissed her knuckles. ‘I had no idea. I didn’t even think I was going that fast – I just wanted to get here for the sunset. I wanted everything to be perfect.’

Effie looked at the rueful smile on his lips. He’d tried to give her the perfect day, and she’d ruined it. She shook her head and kissed his cheek.

‘It has been. I’m sorry we missed the sunset.’

He turned her head to face him and kissed her tenderly, as if she were made of something precious, and she let herself relax. What had happened earlier was just a small blip. He hadn’t known that she hated heights, and she trusted him to the ends of the earth and back. It was a trust that was warranted when he drove with extra care as they descended the mountain, and Effie couldn’t help but smile as he stuck to the middle of the road.