“I’ve fallen in love with Rhys, and I think—I know—he wants me to stay in London, to not go back to Michigan.He thinks we belong together.”
“But he hasn’t proposed?”
Cat shook her head.
“And he hasn’t come up with a plan to win Jillian over?”Cara added.
Cat shook her head again.“But maybe he would if I gave him a chance.Maybe if I told him I wanted to stay… but how do I do that?And then there is my life in Michigan.”
“The life you either dismantle, or the life you rebuild.”
“I need time to handle things there.And Rhys needs time for his girls to mature.I love that he’s such a devoted father.But the girls are going through things, and I can’t just barge in and take over.”
“I would think he’d understand.”
“He thinks I’m rejecting him.”
“Are you?”
“It won’t work right now, not the way Jillian is feeling.”
“So right guy, wrong time.”
“Pretty much.”
Cara leaned back.“Then maybe the best thing you can do is go home.Catch your breath.Remember what your own life looks like without him in it.”
Cat looked out the window.The rolling lawn a ghostly white.“That sounds sensible,” she said quietly, rising.“And incredibly painful.”
Cara stood and gave Cat a hug.“Please stay in touch,” she said, “and let me know what happens.”
*
Cat walked brisklyback to the cottage, wrapping her navy scarf tighter, her breath little clouds on the air.Her job here was done.The girls would be back in school soon.Tomorrow, the Harmon house in London would fill with noise and laughter, and the professional wonderful Charlotte who knew how to manage everything would return two days later.
Cat needed to go home.Not to London, but to Michigan.To the life she’d put on pause after her grandmother died, when she’d buried herself in work and travel and distractions that looked like purpose.She wouldn’t beat herself up for it.Grief had its own timeline.But it was time to live again.To find that job, that future, a future that belonged entirely to her.
Entering the cottage, she nearly tripped over a row of suitcases standing by the front door.She glanced into the sitting room and discovered Rhys at the hearth, putting out the fire.
“They’re flying back from St.Barts,” he said, his voice rough.“The girls wanted to celebrate New Year’s Eve with me, and they’ll be coming over for dinner once they land.”
Cat nodded.It was all she could manage.
Rhys shifted, his tone softening.“I’ll take you back to London with me.Drop you off at your place.Can you be ready soon?”
Cat’s gaze swept the room, from the decorated tree to the mantle with the tall pillar candles and clove studded oranges.“What about everything here?”
“I’ve spoken to Mr.Trimble.His grandson is visiting from Manchester and is going to take the tree and decorations down and empty the refrigerator for me.”
“That’s nice of him.”
“I think he’s looking forward to the forty quid.”
Cat tried to smile but couldn’t.She ran upstairs to pack, and it didn’t take long.When she came down Rhys was already by the door, phone in hand, his coat buttoned.
“I’ve called ahead,” he said.“The roads are clear enough now.We’ll make good time.”
She nodded, lifting the handle of her suitcase.“All right.”
