His Horizon - Con Riley Page 0,86

its built-in calendar for June, July and August.

Lou leaned forward. “Wait…. Doesn’t that mean…?”

“Yeah,” Rob said faintly, only standing because Jude braced him. “We’re fully booked for the whole summer.”

30

Later, slightly tipsy on terrible cognac they’d shared to toast the New Anchor’s bookings, Louise caught up with Jude as he washed the glasses in the kitchen. She wrapped her arms tight around his middle, her face pressed into his back, so her voice was muffled. “Leave the pans to soak. I’ll do them first thing tomorrow.”

“No need.” Jude couldn’t imagine ever sleeping. Not after watching their bookings spill over into September and October, the office phone ringing off the hook with hopeful enquiries that they might conjure more rooms out of nowhere. “Besides, I’ll be up before you. I want to catch Carl.” He’d already mentally run through what increased bookings meant to his fish order. At least now they could pay him market value.

“I’ll be up just as early,” she said, her tone dreamy, her head a dead weight between the blades of his shoulder, suggesting that might be wishful thinking until she added, “Marc’s got some canvasses arriving on the early train.”

“What does him getting up early have to do with you?” Jude teased until she landed a headbutt. “Ow! Okay, okay. You’re going to his place tonight. I get it.” He glanced over his shoulder where only the top of her hair was visible. Marc clearly saw something different to the unruly frizz she hated, if those images in his studio truly were of her, Jude remembered. Marc had painted it as shimmering and stunning. Of course she’d want to spend the night—this amazing night—with someone who saw her as special. This much joy and relief was meant to be shared with someone who mattered.

She read his mind. “Where’s Rob?”

“He went back to the office. Said something about making changes to that business plan of his.” Jude added more hot water to his sink of dishes, then stood, doing nothing except enjoy the weight of his sister leaning on him. She seemed relaxed for once, boneless and trusting that he’d stick around to support her for as long as she needed, maybe for the first time since he’d come back. Perhaps that was down to the booze he’d sipped while she gulped, gasping and laughing as she finally agreed that it did taste awful. No matter the reason, Jude also found it easier to set down his armour. He dropped a mental shield he’d held for too long and said exactly what he was thinking. “Did I tell you that you’re amazing?” She was, securing the Anchor’s transformation so much better than he ever could have during a crisis.

What had he done when he’d felt pressurised in this same place?

He’d put as much distance between him and home as he could manage. Fuck it; hadn’t he done that twice, running first to London before hiding out in the Aphrodite’s galley?

He could have come home so much sooner.

Should have.

Louise read his mind a second time in as many minutes. “You would have done the same if I hadn’t been here to keep the business running. And before that, you had other reasons not to be here. Understandable ones.” This time, the knock of her forehead against his shoulder blade was gentle. “I get that now.” She went quiet, perhaps recalling the postcard Jude had saved showing her until last. She said, “Anyway, I couldn’t have done what you did either. Any of it. Be seasick twenty-four-seven while on a hopeless search? No thanks.” Her voice was hoarse and her grip around his middle tightened. “I’m sorry you had to do that alone. It must have been so hard.”

They both stood in reflective silence while soapsuds in the sink clustered like the islands he’d scoured from shore to shore while searching. Each island of suds diminished, individual bubbles popping as Louise leaned and Jude let her, for once the quiet not loaded with secrets. Eventually, she unpeeled herself and brought him back to the present by saying, “We do need to talk about the bedroom situation, Jude. I bet I know which numbers Rob’s running, right now.”

Jude dried his hands and waited. If he’d learned one thing lately it was that tipsy or not, those two knew this business.

“The photos... the ones with the review? They made it look like Mum and Dad’s room was available to book. That’s what the majority of phone callers wanted. To book their