CORAL - Forever (A Romance Trilogy, Book 3) (33 page)

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

 

I’M
OUTSIDE ON THE SUN LOUNGER
, waiting for Tristan to come out of his
office. We are all packed up and ready to go. It feels very surreal. I can't
believe that in only a few hours time, I

ll
be on holiday, away from Brighton. I never been away from Brighton before – I
want to call myself a freak, but for the first time ever, I stop myself.

Tristan has called Dr Green to let her know I won

t be there on Friday for
my check-up, she has sent Nurse Terry over with a big bag of painkillers –
Yuck! – But at least the catheter is now out of my hand, it feels sore and is
bruised slightly, but I'm sure it will heal quickly. He also called George and
Gladys, who promised to tell Debs. I don't want her worrying with everything
she has going on – I can't help wondering if they

ve
come to a decision yet, whether they are staying or leaving?

And earlier, I spoke to Rob. Who is panicking because of the
wedding coming up, but agrees it

s
what I need, to get away – I feel guilty leaving my best friend like this – but
I need this, I know I really do, and Rob did tell me not to worry, that I haven

t upset him, or let him
down – He knows me so well!

There

s
still a lot to sort out here, my mother

s
burial, speaking to Susannah; and I need to find a job – but for now, I am not
going to worry. I am going to relax; give my body and my mind what it needs;
what it

s desperate
for – some serious R-n-R!


Hey
baby,

Tristan says
bounding over to me.

Do
you have a passport?


A
passport?

I laugh.


Yep.


I
thought you said Devon or Cornwall?


I
did.

He smiles,
shrugging his shoulders.


We

re flying?

I balk.


Yes.

Tristan cocks his head
to the side.

You

ve never been on a plane
before?

I swallow
hard and shake my head at him.

Ah
baby,

he coos,
kneeling down in front of me.

Look,
this is what I

ve
found. They had a cancelation.

Tristan passes me several pieces of printed A4 paper.

I

ve
booked it, and booked the flights; Heathrow to Newquay. It would have taken us
five hours plus to get there by car, but flying will only take a couple of
hours.

I look down at the paperwork. At the top it says

Porth Beach Villa Retreat

He

s rented a villa?
Of
course he has!
I want to roll my eyes, we couldn

t have just rented a cottage – of course not
– this is Tristan we are talking about!

I giggle at my own sarcasm and look at the images.
Hmm,
it looks fabulous.

Very modern, two bed villa, set back so it looks directly
over the sea and a beautiful white sandy beach, and it’s surrounded by Cornwall’s
rocky coast – It

s
breathtaking. I look down and read the description.

‘Porth is a quiet, stunning bay perfectly situated between
livelier Newquay and up-market Watergate Bay; with Jamie Oliver

s restaurant Fifteen, and
numerous other sandy beaches close by. The villa is located in a quiet
location, and is furnished in a contemporary, but comfortable style; offering
modern facilities all within a stones throw of the beach. Porth beach is a
quiet and sheltered beach with rock pools and a freshwater stream at low tide.
Enjoy a stroll to Lusty Glaze beach with it

s
adventure sports, just 500m away, or stroll along the coastal path to Watergate
Bay or Newquay. Only 3 miles from Newquay Airport, and less than a mile to
Newquay Train station.’

I look up at Tristan and smile.

Wow!

Is all I can say. I'm giddy with excitement, it

s
so beautiful. In fact it

s
making me re-think this place – I miss being so close to the water.


You
like it?

He asks.


I
love it Tristan.


Good.
Well we better get going or we

re
going to miss our flights.”

“But I don't have a passport ?” I squeak.


You
don't need one baby, not to fly inland; you just need some I.D. Have you got a
driving licence?

He
asks, smirking at me.


Yes.

I narrow my eyes at him

What is he laughing at?


That
will do.

He
chuckles to himself.


What?

I can't help smiling
back.


Nothing,
just remembering you having a hissy fit when you realised I was going to buy
you a car, that

s
all.

Hmm, two
can play that game!

I cross my arms and pout.

Well,
I have to say I was a little disappointed I didn

t
get an F-Type for my birthday,” I gripe petulantly.

Tristan

s
mouth pops open.

You...you
wanted one?

He
gasps in disbelief –
Oh dear!
I want to laugh, and I feel guilty for
winding him up, but it

s
just too good an opportunity to miss, so I slowly nod my head, looking forlorn.

You

re serious?

He chokes.

I look up at him and make my bottom lip quiver.


I
knew I should have got you one!

He says, castigating himself; he looks really mad. Trying not to laugh, I hold
my hands out to him; he gently pulls me to my feet.


So
you thought I was funny when I said no to you buying me a car?

I ask making
Tristan sigh. I can't
stand it anymore – A smile starts to creep across my face, then I start to
giggle, making Tristan frown even harder at me.


What?

e asks.


Just
getting you back...

I chuckle.

You
know...for thinking it was funny...I didn

t
really want a car for my birthday Tristan.

I say, trying so hard to stop the laughter.

He lets out a long breath and narrows his eyes at me; they
darken fractionally, and suddenly, he’s looking really intense as he stares
back at me –
Oh shit!


I
should put you over my knee for that.

He bites.

I inhale sharply, all humour gone.

Excuse me?

I whisper, my eyes wide.

And as we stand staring at one another, something...something
passes between us that I can't quite put my finger on?


Let

s get going.

He says, ignoring me.

Or we’ll miss our flight.

He opens his hand out to
me, in a daze I place my hand in his and we head out to the car...

 

STUART
HAS DRIVEN US TO HEATHROW AIRPORT.
It has only taken an hour and a
half to get here. I am so excited to be flying, and I'm confident I

ll enjoy it because I
have Tristan by my side. We have checked our luggage; so we locate a bar while
we wait for our flight. Tristan is hungry again – I have butterflies racing
around my stomach, so I don't want to eat anything, just in-case. As Tristan peruses
the menu, I sit back, watching the people around me. Some look stressed and are
dashing about, other

s
look relaxed, like I feel; and I wonder if they are flying off on holiday too?

I turn and beam at Tristan.

Baby,
aren

t you going to
eat something?

He
asks.


No.

Tristan pulls a face.

I don't want to just
in-case I get sick on the flight. I

ll
eat when we land, ok?

Tristan smiles at me.

Ok,

he says taking my hand
in his – the one that had the catheter in it – and gently kisses me where the
needle was.
He is so sweet!

A male waiter comes over and asks us if we want to order.
Tristan asks for a Chicken salad sandwich and half a lager, then stops and
frowns at me.

I
don't mind Tristan. If you want a beer then have one, you deserve it.

He smiles his enigmatic
smile at me and nods to the waiter, who quickly scurries off.


You
really don't mind?

He says, squeezing my hand.


No,
I don't; not at all. Tristan, I

ve
not exactly made this easy on you, and if I could, I would join you. But I
can't, because I'm being good.

I say, smiling sweetly at him.


Yes,
you are,

he says.


Tristan,
why didn

t we just
drive?

I ask,
because I'm curious.


Five
hours of bumping up and down in a car?” He says, shaking his head at me. “I
didn

t want you to
go through that baby, I'm more worried about you than I'm letting on. At least
this way, we’ll be there in no time at all, which means we can both start
relaxing.

I swallow hard.
He really does care!


How
often do they fly from here to Newquay?” I ask.

“It changes.” Tristan answers, then narrows his eyes at me.
“Why?”

Damn it!
I hate being this easy to read.

“Ok, just hear me out,” I say, staring back at his wide
eyes. “Please?” I add in a whiny voice.

Tristan sighs. “Alright, fire away!” he says, waving his
hand at me.

“If, I feel better by Friday, and because it will be easy to
do, I think we should go to your function,’ Tristan goes to interrupt, so I
hold my finger up at him. “Only if I’m better. I won't lie to you Tristan. If I
don't feel well enough we won't go, but if I do because we’ve relaxed for a few
days, then I think we should.”

“Why are you so eager to go?” He questions.

“Because when you told me about it, you had this look in
your eye. You like this old guy, whoever he is. I know you want to go.” I say
with one eyebrow arched.

He cocks his head to the side, his eyes still narrowed. “You
caught that huh?”

“Yep. Which makes me think that even if I don't feel well
enough, you should go anyway.”

His eyes darken, his face going pale. “Absolutely not! I am
not leaving you alone. And don't even think about arguing that point, it’s not
happening Coral!”

Well that told me!

“Ok, you’re not going on your own, but if I feel well
enough’ – “We’ll fly that evening, stay in a hotel and fly back Saturday
morning,” he says, not looking too pleased.

“Why a hotel? Can't we stay at your place in London?”

“No.” He says, shaking his head.

“You don't want me to see it?” I question.

Tristan sighs, leans forward and takes my hand in his. “Coral...I’ve
already rented it out, besides, there’s too many memories there. My
folks...Olivia. It’s part of my past and I want to move on,” he says,
swallowing hard.

“Ok.” I say, leaning forward to kiss him and run my hands
through his hair. The waiter arrives with his food and beer, Tristan thanks him
and starts munching his sandwich. Even though I won't get to see his old place,
I can't help smiling.

“What are you smiling about?” He asks between mouthfuls.

“I just...I think it’ll be fun to go to the function-that’s
all!” I say, feeling triumphant. Tristan’s lips twitch, I know he’s trying not
to smile. “Go on,” I tease.

“Go on what?” He growls.

“Smile,” I say grinning broadly at him. He sighs heavily,
puts down his sandwich, and looks up at me, his face is still serious. His lips
twitch as he continues to stare broodingly at me, I start to giggle. He shakes
his head at me, then grins a wide, happy smile. ‘Frustrating woman’ he mouths
at me, then returns to his food....

 

HALF
AN HOUR LATER OUR FLIGHT IS CALLED
. The butterflies in my stomach
multiply a thousand fold. I swallow hard and try not to get too nervous.


Hey,
flying is cool baby.

Tristan says, beaming widely at me.

You
have nothing to worry about, ok?


Ok,

I squeak. I take his
outstretched hand and we walk over to the terminal. Only I'm surprised when we
don't go down one of those tunnels; like I

ve
seen them do in films – Instead, we are ushered outside onto the tarmac where
there

s a small
plane waiting – It

s
not a big jet like I was expecting, and says Flybe across the side of it – I
try not to panic.

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