Why would Sadie or Amanda recommend coming here to Emily? It’s true, he does love the island, always has done ever since Caro brought him here the first time they went away together, but he’d rather have gone somewhere different, somewhere where there was no ghost of Caro looking on. Now he’ll feel on edge for two weeks, worried he’ll upset Emily by letting something slip about being here with Caro.
‘I’m sorry again about the song cock-up. I really don’t have any idea how it happened.’
‘It’s fine, Rupert. Just a silly mistake.’ Emily closes her eyes for a moment. ‘I’d rather not think about it anymore, to be honest. Let’s concentrate on now, on being happy and making the most of our beautiful honeymoon together.’
‘As long as you are happy, Mrs Milligan.’ Rupert scoots to the end of the bed to kiss her, worried that the look on her face means she isn’t happy.
‘Of course I am.’ Emily gives him a smile, and turns to the mirror, her hands going back to fiddle with her hair again. ‘Now, are you going down to the restaurant like that, or are you going to get dressed?’
The restaurant is quiet when they arrive for their meal. Theirs is one of the tables on the edge of the restaurant floor, closest to the sea. There are no walls or windows, just a space that opens out onto the sand. A warm breeze ruffles Rupert’s hair as they wait to be seated. Tiny lights are strung across the ceiling and it is the perfect setting for romance. Rupert blinks away the vision of Caro sitting in a restaurant very like this one, just before they took a stroll onto the beach and Rupert went down on one knee in the sand, under a full moon. There is a pain, somewhere close to his heart. He still misses her, even though things weren’t perfect between them. He must be careful this evening, he thinks, not to let anything slip that will let Emily know that he’s been here before. He could kill whoever it was who recommended Barbados – why not let Emily make up her own mind about their destination?
‘Mr Milligan? How lovely to see you again.’ The maître d’ appears beside him, and Rupert recognizes him from the last time he was here, his heart leaping into his throat. He glances towards Emily, who is gazing out towards the ocean and doesn’t seem to have heard. ‘Let me show you to your table.’
Emily looks amazing this evening. She’s wearing a semi-sheer, off-the-shoulder Diane Von Fürstenberg dress in shades of green that accentuates the colour of her eyes. Rupert almost feels underdressed in his cargo shorts and pale blue Ralph Lauren polo shirt. He watches as several other guests turn to look at the pair of them as they cross the room to their table, feeling a little burst of pride that Emily, the woman all the other men in the restaurant wish was with them, is with him.
‘Have you been here before?’ Emily eyes him closely as Rupert takes his seat opposite her.
‘Errr… no, I don’t think so.’ He makes a big deal of fussing with his napkin, adjusting his cutlery so it sits dead straight on the pristine tablecloth.
‘I thought he said it was lovely to see you again?’ Emily’s brows are knitted together, and she doesn’t take her eyes off him.
‘You know how these places are, Em, they welcome you like an old friend, and then you spend more money with them. He’ll probably ply us with wine all evening.’ He feels a bead of sweat gather at the corner of his temple. Why hadn’t he just told Emily they were going somewhere else for their honeymoon, or even just confessed that he’d been there with Caro and let Emily make up her own mind? It’s too late now. He changes the subject, keen to avoid any confrontation. ‘Hungry?’
‘A little.’ Emily’s voice is quiet. She’s been subdued since they got on the plane yesterday morning, the morning after the wedding. Rupert had thought that perhaps she was hungover, that’s why she’d been so quiet, but now it’s two days since the wedding. No hangover lasts that long, and surely she can’t still be annoyed about the mistake with their first dance song, can she? After all, it was only the first few bars of music, and none of the other guests even seemed to notice it.
‘Maybe we should start with a cocktail?’ Rupert suggests, waving over a waiter and ordering two rum punches before Emily can respond. ‘We are on holiday after all.’
‘Rupert…’ Emily starts to speak, before the waiter returns with menus, giving them both a run-down on what the specials are. Rupert orders for them both – salted cod – and when the waiter finally leaves, he waits for Emily to speak. She looks a little pale under her tan, but that might just be the lighting; Rupert isn’t sure. He feels a tiny wave of panic rise in his chest. Is she about to tell him they’ve both made a terrible mistake? He can’t let her go, not now, not after he’s finally found what he’s been looking for.
‘Rupert—’ Emily clears her throat, then sips at her cocktail, wincing at the burn of rum on her tongue. ‘There’s something I should probably tell you. I wanted to wait until after the wedding…’
‘What is it?’ Rupert puts his cocktail down and leans across the table, avoiding the
