“The more you try to stop crying, the harder it makes it. You just need to let it out.”
“I’m so embarrassed. I was having such a nice evening. I don’t want to be crying in the toilets. I’m such a mess.”
“You’re a bit of a mess,” he agreed with a sad smile. “But there’s no need to be embarrassed about it. Of course you’re upset after what happened with your mum. Today must have been difficult.”
She dabbed furiously at her cheeks, but her eyes continued to fill with tears. “I spend so much time pretending I’m fine for Ellie … you’d think I could pretend in a restaurant full of people.”
“It’s okay.”
“I thought I’d be spending today with Mum.” Her chest heaved as she fought for breath. “But I’ll never spend another day with her again and it hurts so much.”
“I know.” Gently, he collected her in his arms while blinking back his own tears and wishing he didn’t know just how much it hurt.
“I miss her,” she sobbed, her voice muffled by grief and by his shoulder.
He held her tighter, pressing his cheek against her hair so the sweet scent of flowery shampoo tickled his nostrils. It took a couple of minutes for her to calm down, and then a few more tissues to dry her cheeks, but her tear ducts finally called it a day.
“Better?” he asked, rubbing her back again while she tried to remove the mascara smudges from under her eyes.
“Yes. Thank you.” She straightened her spine. “I don’t think I can face going back into the restaurant. I made such a show of myself.”
“You didn’t, but if you want, you can wait outside while I get our stuff and pay the bill.”
“Do you mind?”
“Of course not.” He rocked forwards, intent on kissing the side of her head before realising he barely knew her. When someone spent five minutes crying on your shoulder, the lines blurred quickly. “I’ll meet you out the front.”
Five minutes later, he caught up to her outside the main entrance. She had her arms wrapped around her waist and he held out her jacket for her to put her arms into.
“Thank you.” She took her handbag from him. “I’d actually intended to pay for dinner.”
“It’s your birthday,” he said, offering her his arm, “so that was never going to happen.”
“Thanks.” She held his arm tighter on the cobblestones. “You don’t really go in for street lights around here, do you?”
“No, it’s part of the charm of island life.”
“Are broken ankles considered charming?” she asked, watching her footing.
“The moon is pretty full tonight, there’s plenty of light.”
Her laugh cut through the silence. “It’s pitch black.”
“I know the island like the back of my hand. Stick with me and you’ll be fine.” His over-the-top fake stumble drew more laughter from her, the sound wonderfully melodic.
Walking through the town, she continued to cling to his arm. The warmth of her body against his felt completely natural. As did the silence between them. The emotional evening left Trystan thinking about his dad, and he was lost in thought when Beth spoke again.
“Could we walk along the beach?”
He blinked a couple of times, not having noticed that they were already reaching Old Town Bay. Veering off the lane, they carefully navigated the couple of wooden steps onto the sand, where Beth used his arm to balance while she slipped her sandals off.
“Have you been to any islands other than St Mary’s?” he asked as they ambled along.
“No. Mum had talked about going to Tresco and Bryher, but I haven’t been able to face much exploring without her. It felt easier to stay around here.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry I’m so depressing this evening.”
He shook his head, gazing at the moonlight flickering on the surface of the water. “My dad drowned.” The words were out before he knew he was going to say them.
She pulled on his arm to stop him and the moonlight reflected in her eyes as she looked up at him.