The Lie

“Call me sentimental,” he explains, unlocking my side and flipping down the seat so Winter can hop in the back. “I rarely use it anymore but I thought it might be nice to go for a spin.”

I totally agree. I get in and we’re off, zipping through the city and then onto the motorway, heading in who knows what direction. I don’t really care where we’re going and I don’t ask. The radio plays the oldies, some good old soul, and I’ve got the wind in my hair. The weather is absolutely perfect for a drive and though the air has a chill these days, the sun has never felt better on my face.

“So how is our date going so far?” Brigs asks randomly as he brings the car onto the A2.

“Date?” I ask, glancing at him.

He shrugs and shoots me his trademark grin. “Well, I thought we ought to make it official don’t you? None of this screwing here and there, even though that’s a given at this point. I mean, well, sorry to sound old fashioned but I’m rather fond of you and I’d like us to be, you know…a couple.”

“A couple?” I repeat. Silly me kind of thought we already were.

“Aye. I want to do things properly with you now,” he explains. “I’m going to woo the hell out of you.”

I laugh. “Believe me, you’re already wooing the hell out of me.”

“Good, good,” he says, nodding. He glances at me. “But you know, you’re something close to magic, Natasha. I’m not going to treat you like you’re anything less. You deserve to be wooed and wined and dined.”

“And fucked,” I add, feeling a bit embarrassed at his proclamations. I don’t think I’ve ever been called magic before.

“And fucked, of course,” he concedes.

And loved I add in my head but my mouth doesn’t dare mutter the words. It’s much too soon for that, even though the longer I’m with him, the more that I’m sucked into this heady vortex of feelings I can barely describe. It’s not that I believe I deserve his love but, god damn it, I want it more than anything.

“Well, Professor Brigs,” I tell him. “Feel free to wine and dine me and do whatever you want. I’m game for whatever you have planned.”

And then what? The thought floats into my head. Where is this going?

But the thing is, there’s only one place for it to go. We’re starting from square one and we might be “dating” but as far as I can tell, we’re already “all in.”

A couple of hours later, we end up near the seaside town of Broadstairs before we’re pulling into a parking lot at a place called Botany Bay.

“Ever been here before?” Brigs asks me as I stare out the window at the wide stretch of sandy beach beyond a row of sea grass.

“Never,” I tell him. “I barely made it to the seaside. Only Brighton.”

“I haven’t been here either,” he says. “I honestly did one of those point at the map things at home. Well, then I googled the hell out it. But I thought that might make it fun.”

We get out of the car, with Winter staying in the backseat for now, and he opens the hatchback, taking out a picnic basket. For a moment I’m reminded of the time I tried to have a solo picnic in the Princes Street Gardens and how lovesick I was and how much I wanted him to be with me. I also remember seeing him and Hamish and Miranda walking past, seemingly so happy, and the memories are kind of killing me as I stand there staring at him.

It’s like there was an implosion and the dust is settling and I’m amazed to see we’re still alive.

“Are you okay?” he asks, closing the hatchback and resting the basket on the ground.

I nod, trying to swallow. I shake my shoulders quickly, as if to loosen the shame and dust from my shoulders. But even though I can’t see his eyes underneath his glasses, I know how good he is at reading me.

“Should we go back?” he asks quietly and I can hear the hurt in his voice.

“No,” I say quickly. “No, I’m fine. Really. I just…I was remembering something.”

He nods sharply. “Aye. You know you can tell me.”

“I know. It’s fine. It’s nothing.” The last thing I want to do is ruin the mood.

He watches me for a few moments, his brows pulled together. “All right. Do you want to get Winter and I’ll handle this?”

I nod, happy for a distraction. I put Winter on his leash and we head down a sandy path between waving grass until we’re down on the beach. It’s strangely desolate here, not even a pier or a boardwalk or a single café, and there isn’t a person in sight either, though I’m sure in summer it would be a completely different story.

“All to ourselves,” Brigs comments as we stroll down to the end of the beach where giant white cliffs jut out from the sea. A few of the chalky cliffs stand alone, like white soldiers overlooking the sand and with the tide being out, it appears you can wander between them.

But we stop closer to the dunes and Brigs lays out the picnic. I take Winter off the leash since there’s no one around and he immediately starts running around, chasing seagulls.