The Secret Path by Karen Swan (summer beach reads TXT) 📕

‘. . . I didn’t know if you’d be here today,’ he said finally, looking out at the crowd and then back at her again. Leaning on the crutches brought him down almost to her height. He looked hesitant, almost nervous, and she realized he didn’t remember that she had sat with him for the three days before she’d had to return. Internal injuries had meant he had been sedated and largely unconscious at the hospital. He must have thought she’d just . . . gone.

‘How could I miss it? This is the big day,’ she said, watching him trying to read her for sarcasm or rebuke. ‘Are you pleased?’

‘That you’re back?’

She smiled. ‘That the handover’s happened.’

‘Oh.’ He nodded, looking embarrassed. ‘Yeah. I am.’

‘Me too.’ Her eyes roamed his face. It was so good even just to see him again. She longed to reach over and stroke the curve of his cheek, to trace the contours of his profile, to smell his hair, to nuzzle in the crook of his neck and tickle him, to make real what hadn’t yet been said between them.

He looked down at the ground and back at her. ‘You know, I was going to come back to London the second they cleared me to fly.’

She paused for a moment, seeing the desperation in his eyes. ‘Well, that would have been unfortunate.’ Her own eyes sparkled. ‘If I’d been over here only to find you’d gone over there.’

He gave a squint of confusion. ‘. . . You over here?’

‘I had to go back to work my notice and . . . see through some processes. But I would have been pretty hacked off to do all that and get back here, only to find you’d gone.’

Emotions ran behind his eyes, fast and light. ‘Ta, are you saying . . .?’ His voice thickened and he cleared his throat. ‘Are you saying you forgive me?’

She remembered the sight of him standing in the path of the mudslide, endangering himself to check she was safe. ‘I’m saying, no more apologies,’ she nodded.

He seemed unable to speak for several seconds. He stared at the ground, at her painted toenails in her backless sandals. He looked back at her. ‘You’ve really worked your notice?’

‘I’ve got a clinic here that needs me more.’

‘Not just the clinic.’ His eyes burned into her and the embers that forever smouldered between them ignited into small flames. ‘But what about—?’

‘Rory moved out within a week,’ she said simply.

‘He did?’ Alex looked surprised.

‘He said he’d heard all he needed to hear.’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘Apparently someone left the “speak” button on and he heard every single word of our conversation. As well as the bits where we . . . weren’t speaking.’

She watched as his lips parted. Busted. No excuses. ‘Well . . . all’s fair,’ he said finally, that familiar gleam coming back into his eyes. ‘What did he expect? That I wouldn’t fight for you?’

His hand, his good one, reached for her, pulling her closer. They stared at one another for several long, languid moments before he leaned forward and kissed her, right there.

Someone – they both knew who – whooped from the crowd as they pulled apart with shy laughs.

‘Finally. I get to do that again,’ he whispered.

‘You do.’ She watched his gaze fall to her lips again, and she felt their magnetism draw them in close, closer to one another, everyone else forgotten. They succumbed to another kiss, just the first of many, they already knew. Holly whooped again. ‘. . . What?’ She saw his eyes had narrowed with curiosity.

‘What did she say to you just now?’

‘Who? Hols?’

‘Yeah. She whispered something as I was coming over.’

‘Yes. Because it’s a secret,’ she smiled coyly.

He shook his head faintly, pinning her with those light green eyes. ‘There’s no secrets between you and me. Never again.’

She felt the goosebumps ripple up and down her skin as his eyebrow arched quizzically, just a little, drawing it – everything – from her. ‘She’s eight weeks pregnant.’

His eyes widened with surprise. ‘Really?’ he smiled. ‘Well, that’s pretty great.’

‘Yeah. Conceived in Costa Rica, in fact. I’m so happy for them.’

He was still watching her. ‘. . . And?’ he prompted, still watching her closely. ‘What else did she say?’

‘How do you know there’s more?’

‘There’s always more with Holly.’

She caught her breath and looked away, but he turned her back to face him again. ‘Tell me.’

She shook her head. ‘No.’

He leaned in closer, his gaze drawing her into him. ‘Tell me.’

‘. . . She said we could catch them up.’

Time refracted like a cat stretch, arching its back, moving through space. ‘Well, she’s right. We could.’ A smile drew slowly across his lips. ‘Although we’d need to get practising. There’s not a minute to lose.’

‘How? You’re broken,’ she grinned. ‘Literally broken.’

‘Not everywhere. A couple of broken tibias, a fibula, a few ribs . . . Everyone knows ribs heal quickly. You’re a doctor. You should know that.’ He reached forward and kissed her again and this time she felt the crowd fall away completely. She didn’t care who saw. It was just the two of them, just as it had been during those long dark nights in London.

He pulled back eventually, both of them yearning for more. His eyes shone with a smile that began to play on his lips. ‘Thing is, though, I’m a pretty conservative guy,’ he said. ‘I had an unconventional childhood, as you know, and I would want our baby . . .’

Our baby. Our baby. The words glittered like they’d been cut from diamonds.

‘. . . to have more security than I had. I would want him – or her – to have my name.’ His eyes were sparkling, a mischief she could see. ‘But I wouldn’t want you to, y’know, agree. Just to be polite.’

She had to suppress the bubble of laughter rising up in her. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said contrarily. ‘What would I be agreeing to?’

‘Marrying me.’

‘You want me to marry you?’

‘I wanted it then. I’ve wanted it ever since . . . Will you, Tara, marry me?’

She stared back at him for a moment, as long as she could manage, before stepping into him and wrapping her arms around his neck. ‘Absolutely,’