But the kiss was broken up by the absolute silence at foot level. And where Joe Cockatoo was concerned, silence was the most concerning sound he could make. Trent pulled away and dropped his gaze to the red and white checked blanket.
Joe froze mid-lunge, his open beak hovering over a cubed piece of cheese as though someone had suddenly cast him in stone.
“Don’t you dare,” Trent said in his most authoritative voice.
There was a tense standoff as time slowed down, then the bird made his move. He snatched the cheese and scuttled across the blanket, knocking over a punnet of strawberries in his great escape before flapping his wings and launching himself into the air. He settled in a tree at the side of the yard, gloating over his prize.
“Bloody bird,” Trent muttered.
But Cora watched the exchange with pure and utter joy, her blue eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed with happiness. “You leave my Joe alone. He’s doing what’s required to survive.”
For some reason, the words struck him as more than an observation about a greedy, scavenging bird. But Trent would not be deterred from sharing his feelings with Cora. Too many times in his life he’d stayed quiet—the years after he found out the secret of his birth, all the times he’d suspected Rochelle was cheating on him but didn’t want to confront her. Every time someone called him the town charmer, not knowing it was a fabrication.
He smiled and shrugged it off as a joke, hid behind his charming smile and flippant tone no matter how much he was hurting.
Yet being with Cora made him feel like, for the first time in his life, maybe he didn’t have to censor himself. The way she wrote, with such passion and honesty, had inspired him to speak his own truth.
“What’s all this for?” she asked, taking a step back and surveying his work. “I thought we were going to grill some sausages and have a quiet night in, since we’ve got a big party tomorrow.”
The cricket team had wanted to send Cora off in style—with beers and Aussie staples like parmas and chips at the White Crest. They’d also invited Trent’s siblings and partners, the staff at Just One More Chapter, and everyone else whom Cora had befriended during her holiday. But Trent was hoping it was going to be more of a surprise party than a send-off: Surprise! Cora isn’t leaving after all.
Or, more realistically, maybe she’d be leaving for a short while and then coming back with more than one suitcase. Was it crazy to ask a person to upend her life? To take such a big chance on something so fresh and new?
But Trent had reasoned that Cora was miserable in Manhattan. She worked a job that didn’t fulfill her, had a broken relationship with her parents, no partner or pets waiting for her return. After all, she came here looking for an escape.
Their life could be amazing. Building a house together while she focused on writing her book. Building a life that healed them both from the past.
“I wanted to do something special,” he said, taking her hand.
“You’re not going to make me cry, are you?” Her brows pinched. “To be honest, if there was a way for me to slink off without saying anything, I would. I’m terrible at goodbyes.”
Trent tried to ignore the stone settling in the pit of his stomach. There was no point being scared. All he had to do was man up and say it.
Don’t chicken out now—you know she’s one of a kind. This is one of a kind.
“So don’t say goodbye.” Each syllable was like digging a spoon into his chest and scooping out chunks of his heart.
Yeah, it sounded a bit gross. But that’s exactly how it felt.
Cora blinked, shaking her head. “You really think I should have left without saying anything?”
“No, not that.” Ugh, so much for being smooth. How had his famous charm deserted him now? “I mean, there’s no need to say goodbye if you don’t go. So…don’t go.”
She opened and closed her mouth for a second, like a stunned goldfish. A cuter than hell stunned goldfish. “I…”
“Stay.” He filled the gap with his desire. With his wish.
“Here, in Australia?”
“Well, I was hoping specifically in Patterson’s Bluff.” He raked a hand through his hair, desperate to do something with his hands. He’d always been better with his hands than with words. “With me.”