Michael Taylor was sure- he was in love with Lydia Saunders, even if she was engaged to someone else. He had been for years and no one else came close. Not until that kiss happened.
Suddenly, Lyanna Saunders- the woman he vowed to hate forever- was...
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When Kit first suggested coming to Cowes for the weekend, I was delighted. I'm very close to his family, especially his parents, and I couldn't wait to see them again but as the week went on, coming to Cowes began to represent something different to me. An escape from my real life.
I've known for years that I'm a disappointment to my father; coming home from university lugging a baby that no one knew about came as a huge shock to my parents, more so my father. I had once been his little girl, his favourite, but Max was one betrayal that he couldn't forgive. He thought I had thrown my life away and made damn well sure that his feelings were made clear as day. He took pity on me and gave me a job at his firm so that I'd have an income to support my child, yet beyond that, Dad had very little interest in what I did and he treated Max like the black sheep of the family.
Dinner parties with the Taylor's, which were a regular occurrence, went ahead as planned only that Dad made sure to hire a babysitter for Max; he didn't want people to know that I was a single mother to a bastard boy, a phrase I overheard him utter to Mum one year just before Christmas. The week after, on Christmas Eve, I made sure to pack a bag for myself and for Max and hot-footed it to the Isle of Wight where we would spend the festive season with Kit and his family.
Susannah and Jeff were warm and welcoming, sensing that my family were the complete opposite. They invited me into their home and doted on Max and me, making sure that I was made to feel as much a part of their family as Max was. That Christmas, Susannah took me under her wing, taught me how to make the infamous Casek Christmas Pudding, and even let me put the star on top of the tree, a tradition usually reserved for either Kit or his sister, Natasha.
Since then, they've always encouraged me to visit them, even if I didn't bring Max with me. Last summer, Kit took Max to Canada for a few weeks and I booked a long weekend off work so I could spend it with Susannah and Jeff before the boys came back for Cowes Week. Sailing was something that Max was obsessed with, thanks to his grandfather's influence, and he wouldn't have missed that week for the world. On the other hand, I wasn't a fan so Natasha and I decided to book a spa break, jetting off to Ibiza for the weeklong getaway.
"I've heard some great things about this spa in Iceland," Natasha says, nudging me in the side. We were currently bundled up as we sat in the conservatory of the Casek's house, watching as Storm Emma battered the coast. There was something majestic yet terrifying about watching Mother Nature at her most fierce. Natasha rolled her eyes when I didn't seem overly interested in her suggestion. "C'mon, El, this is our annual Girls Getaway! Why aren't you excited?"
