But it was. ‘I don’t like being talked about. No one even noticed my suits in the City. Maybe I should get some new clothes for the rest of the summer.’
‘What on earth for?’ He sounded incredulous.
A wave of irritation swept over her. ‘To blend in. The last thing I want is to be noticed for anything but my work.’
‘People aren’t exactly staring at you as you walk down the street,’ Jonas pointed out. ‘Wait...’ He pulled his legs in and sat up, facing her. Blue eyes studied her face intently. ‘Is this why you were so stressed about what to bring on this trip? You wanted to blend in?’
‘There’s no reason to sound so judgmental.’ Lawrie could feel her face heating up, a prickly and uncomfortable warmth spreading down her neck and chest. ‘I’m not comfortable standing out from the crowd. No big deal.’
He was still looking at her. Looking into her, as if he could see her soul. As if he was unsure about what he was seeing there. It took every bit of self-control that she had not to squirm or pull away.
‘Is it, Law?’ he said softly ‘Is it just about blending in?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She wanted to pull away, look away, but it was as if his eyes had a hypnotic effect on her. She was paralysed, stuck to the spot, as he stared at her searchingly.
‘You didn’t sing in London. Not once in nine years.’
‘For goodness’ sake, Jonas, I was busy!’
‘What did you do? Apart from work.’
She tried to remember but it was all fog. It seemed like a lifetime ago. ‘We had dinner with friends. Went to the theatre, to museums and exhibitions. The usual things.’
‘Usual for who? West London professionals like you?’ His gaze sharpened. ‘You’re a tribal animal, aren’t you, Lawrie? You like to dress the part, act the part—whatever that part might be. What is it you really want? You like? Do you even know?’
‘What do you care?’ The words were torn from her. ‘As soon as my life diverged from yours you gave up on me. So don’t you dare be so damn superior—don’t act like I’m letting you down by trying to fit in.’
‘But you’re not.’ He looked surprised. ‘Why would you be letting me down? But are you letting yourself down, Lawrie? If you spend your whole life hiding your own needs and wants away can you ever be really happy?’
‘Happiness is not about things.’ The words snapped out of her, surprising her with their fierceness, their certainty. ‘Clothes, hobbies, food—they’re just trappings, Jonas. I don’t care about any of them. All I want—all I have ever wanted—is to be successful, to be independent. To stick to the plan.’
‘Is this the plan? To be here with me?’
It was like a punch straight to the stomach, winding her with its strength. ‘No,’ she said after a long pause. ‘No, this wasn’t in the plan. But I’m adaptable, Jonas. I’m strong. Don’t ever mistake a desire to fit in with weakness. Lions blend in with the Sahara, you know.’
He threw his head back and laughed. The sound jarred with her jangled nerves.
‘Weak is the last word I’d use to describe you. Lioness, on the other hand...’
It was his turn to duck as she threw a cushion at him.
‘I was just agreeing with you,’ he protested.
‘If you had lived with my mother you’d have learned to fit in as well,’ Lawrie said. She didn’t know why she was telling him this—why she needed him to understand. But she did. She needed him to know that she wasn’t shallow or weak. ‘One moment I’m living in Stockbrokerville in Surrey, learning French and pony-riding, the next we’re in a commune near Glastonbury and my mother is trying to make me answer to the name of Star. She changed completely, depending on who she was with, and she never went for the same type twice.’
‘I know,’ Jonas said, pity softening the keen eyes. ‘It was hard for you.’
Lawrie shook her head. ‘I don’t need you to feel sorry for me. I’m just explaining. What I wore, ate, did, the friends I had—they were interchangeable, dependent on her whims. If I had cared, had tried to hang on to things, it would have been unbearable. So I kept my head down, I worked hard, and I vowed that I would be so successful that I would never have to be dependent on anyone. And I’m not.’
‘Is that why you and the fiancé split? Because you didn’t need him?’
‘No.’ Of course it wasn’t. Hugo had liked her independence. Hadn’t he? ‘It was...complicated.’ That was one word for it. ‘Is that why you wanted out? Because I didn’t need you?’
‘Oh, Lawrie.’ There was no lightness in his voice, in his face, at all. ‘I was used to that. Not being needed. And, if you remember, in the end you were the one that walked away.’
‘Maybe...’ Her voice was low. ‘Maybe I was afraid that I did need you.’
‘Would that have been so bad?’ He examined her face, searching for answers behind the mask.
She shook her head and another lock of hair fell out of the loose ponytail, framing her face. ‘Bad? It would have been terrible. I was barely started on my path. Oxford, an internship at one of the best City firms... And I seriously, seriously considered giving it all up. For you. For a man. Just like my mother would have. Just like she did again and again. I had to leave, Jonas.’ She turned to him, eyes wide, pleading for understanding. ‘I had to hold on to me.’
And in doing so she had let go of him. Jonas closed his eyes for a second, seeing a flash of his heartbroken younger self frozen in time. He hadn’t wasted a single emotion on his parents’ rejection, pouring all that need, all his love, into the slight girl now sitting beside him. It had been far too much for someone so young to carry.
He reached out and cupped her cheek. Her skin was soft beneath his hand. ‘I guess I needed you to choose me. I needed somebody to choose me. I still needed validation back then. It was a lot to put on you. Too much.’
‘Maybe you were right. We were too young.’ Her eyes were filled with sadness and regret. ‘I didn’t want to agree with you, to prove all the I told you so right, but we had a lot of growing up to do. We weren’t ready for such a big step.’
He nodded. Suddenly he didn’t feel any anger or contempt towards her or towards their shared past. Just an underlying sadness for the idealistic kids they had once been. For their belief that love really was all they needed.
He was still touching her cheek. She leant into him trustingly and he turned his hand to run the back of it down the side of her face, learning once again the angle of her cheekbone, the contours of her chin, the smoothness of her skin.
Jonas had made some rules for himself before he came on this trip. No talking about the past, no flirting, and definitely, absolutely no touching.
But sometimes rules were meant to be broken.
Slowly, deliberately, he let his fingers trail further down her face, brushing her full mouth before dipping down to her chin. He let them linger there for one long, agonising moment, tilting her face towards him, giving her ample time to pull away, to stop him, before he leant in slowly—oh, so slowly.
It was a butterfly kiss. So light, so brief, their lips barely touching. Jonas pulled back, searching her face for consent. Her eyes were closed, her face angled towards his, lips slightly parted. Expectant. It was all the agreement he needed.
He shifted closer to her, closing the space between them as he slid one arm around her slender shoulders. The other hand moved from her chin to the sweet spot at the nape of her neck. She moved in too—an infinitesimal shift,