For one thing, he had a spot of prime real estate on Beesley-on Sea’s main promenade. For another, the shop’s sign was basically an enormous Italian flag. It stood out amongst the cobbled streets, to say the least. Laura smirked as she entered the cafe’s propped-open door. God, he was so annoying. He wasn’t even that Italian.
And why was she thinking about him like that? As if she knew him? As if it had been a week since they’d last spoken instead of fifteen years? She couldn’t let herself get too comfortable, regardless of their history. Getting comfortable with men usually ended in tears.
Laura’s hand drifted down to cup her stomach as she wandered toward the cafe’s counter. There was a woman standing there, tapping at the till. If Laura was her old self, Daniel’s Laura, she’d say that the woman’s over-bleached hair looked like straw and the turquoise eyeliner bleeding into her crow’s feet was giving off Braveheart vibes. But Laura was herself now, not some pathetic, wounded creature lashing out at anyone who passed by, wielding preemptive cruelty as a shield. She’d come here to get her shit together and become mother material. So she should think instead that the woman’s French braid was cute, and that her fuchsia lipstick made her teeth look whiter.
Actually, Laura shouldn’t think anything at all. She shouldn’t be here. She should be taking long, scenic walks through the town’s wooded trails, or booking back-to-back spa appointments with the town’s only beautician, or reading the literal mountain of self-help books still sitting in the Range Rover’s boot. Sensible things, in short, that didn’t involve gallivanting around after men. Right?
Right. Definitely. In fact, the siren song of boring behaviour grew so strong that she actually turned to leave.
And almost walked right into Samir.
Oh, Christ. Samir.
If she’d seen him last night, even just a little bit, she’d have known him in seconds. How could she not, when he was still so beautiful? Amber skin, chaotic, midnight hair, eyes dark and warm as hot chocolate. When they were young, she’d been an inch taller than him. Now he towered over her, and he was broader, too. He might even be bigger than Daniel.
But she wouldn’t think about Daniel.
There were other differences. His face had been finer, almost delicate, before, but now it teetered between lush and brutish. His nose was crooked, but his mouth was soft and wide as ever. And when he grinned… oh, there was nothing different about that. His smile was a slice of sunshine. It was the sort of smile that promised he’d give you anything, do anything for you, just to make you happy. That he’d be happy to do it. He was that kind of guy.
“Damn,” he said, his gaze raking over her body. For a moment, Laura felt this odd, tingling flush that she hadn’t felt in forever, the sort that lit her up like a power surge. But then he said, “You really are pregnant,” and the power winked out with a pop.
“That’s what they tell me,” she said cheerfully, while her brain melted through sheer embarrassment. Of course, he hadn’t been looking at her like that. Why would he? And if he had, she would’ve been outraged, anyway. Horrified. Disgusted! She might even have slapped him. Gently, but still. The sentiment would’ve been there.
The woman behind the counter took her pen out from between her teeth and gave a dramatic gasp. “Samir Bianchi,” she snapped, eyes narrowing until they were just glints of blue. “What did you just say to this poor girl?”
“What?” Samir gave the woman a look of confusion. “What did I do now?”
“You called her pregnant,” the woman said, as if he’d actually called Laura ugly or demented or French.
“She is pregnant, Kelly.”
Would anyone notice if Laura just quietly ran away?
Probably. She let her face fall into her hands, instead.
“You’re not supposed to say so, you bloody idiot. You’re supposed to say she’s barely showing! You’re supposed to say you can’t tell at all! Good Lord. Men!”
The woman—Kelly—seemed to have completed her speech. After a moment, Laura peeked through her fingers, just to check if the floor was making any progress on the whole opening up to swallow her thing.
Sadly, it was not.
“Hey,” Samir said, catching one of her wrists. He tugged her hand gently away from her face and murmured, “Sorry. That’s Kelly. She’s nosy.”
“I can hear you, you know.”
He grinned, but didn’t look in the direction of the voice. “I only keep