Mia had taken him for a walk up Pen y Ddraig mountain.
“My grandmother was Welsh,” Bobby said. “I’ve always loved the place.” They were standing at the summit, Llyn Drych snaking along the valley below them. “It feels like coming home,” he sighed, and he wasn’t looking at the lake but at Mia, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining.
He’d called that evening on his way home. Mia could hardly hear him over the sound of the McLaren.
“This is going to sound crazy…” he’d said.
It was all crazy. From the way it began and the way it is now to the way it will be, as soon as they’re able to be together.
“Not much longer,” Bobby says now. Mia trusts him, and she can wait—she feels as though she’s already waited a lifetime for him—but he feels so far away right now.
“I wish you were coming next week.”
“Me too. But I’ve got a break in filming in a couple of weeks. We’ll go somewhere, yeah? Just me and you.” There’s a pause, then Bobby clears his throat. “Look, I hate to ask, but…”
“Ashleigh wants the lodge cleaned?”
“It’s too weird, isn’t it? I’ll tell her you can’t do it.”
“And have her pay someone else to do it? So not only do I have to spend the next week on my own, I can’t pay the rent—”
Mia’s teasing, but Bobby cuts in, horrified. “You can’t pay your rent? Why didn’t you say, babe? I’ll send you the cash.”
“Don’t you bloody dare. I’m not taking your money. Course I’ll clean the lodge.”
“Can you get the key from Rhys or Jonty? They’re going up next week, right?”
“I can, but I’m fully booked next week. It’s half-term, and the holiday rentals are hectic. I’ve got a couple of hours tomorrow, though. I’ll sort something out. Don’t worry.”
“Thanks, babe. I love you, you know.”
“I know.”
Huw Ellis is wearing pajama bottoms and slippers in the shape of Shrek’s head. He opens the door with a piece of cheese on toast in one hand and crumbs sticking to his T-shirt. On the floor in the hall, his work clothes are in a pile around his boots.
“Does Ffion know what she’s missing out on?” Mia says, taking in the scene.
“She collected more of her stuff today.” Huw ignores the jibe. “Waited till I was at work, of course.” He takes a bite of toast, talking through a mouthful of cheese. “Will you talk to her again?”
“Yeah, because that went well, didn’t it?”
A few weeks after Ffion and Huw split up, Mia—against her better judgment—had attempted to reconcile the couple. The result was her friend refusing to speak to Mia unless she promised to never again bring up the subject of Ffion’s love life.
“I came to cadge the keys to The Shore off you,” she says before Huw can ask again. “I’ve got to clean number three.”
Huw eyes her suspiciously. “How do you know I’ve got a set of keys?”
“Rumor has it you’re refusing to give them back till you’re paid.” Mia leans against the porch door. “Come on, Huw. I need to get my bunions into salt water.”
“I did not need that image in my head.” He leaves the front door open and walks through the hall to the kitchen. Mia follows, watching as Huw rummages in a drawer. Dirty dishes are piled in the sink, and the countertop is smeared with the traces of what might be Bolognese sauce.
“You should get a cleaner.”
“You offering?” He opens another drawer.
“Nope.”
“Some women would consider it an honor to pick my underwear off the bathroom floor, you know.”