“Just our mums?” I can hear my voice climbing. “Struan, theysawus. They know.”
“Aye, but...” He shrugs, still looking faintly bemused. “So what? They’re our mums. They’re hardly going to judge us for?—”
“Our mums love nothing better than gossiping at knitting club. You do realise that, right?” I’m pacing now, my hands twisting together. “How long do you think it’ll be before they let slip? I mean, what do you think they’re going to discuss at the Lighthouse Café? And their voices—God, their voices aren’t exactlyquiet. I wouldn’t be surprised if word’s spreading through the whole town in the next half hour.”
“Ainsley.” He steps towards me, reaching out. “Come on, you’re overthinking this?—”
“Don’t.” I jerk back before he can touch me. “Just... don’t.”
He stops, confusion creasing his features. “I don’t understand. Why is this such a big deal?”
Why is this such a big deal?
The question lands like a slap.
He doesn’t get it. Then again, he didn’t live through those weeks after everything with Danny came out—the whispers in the corner shop, the pitying glances at nursery drop-off, the way conversations stopped the moment I showed up anywhere. Struan didn’t feel the weight of an entire village knowing your deepest humiliation, picking over the bones of your failed relationship like it was entertainment.
I wanted things to be different here. Slow. Private.Controlled.I wanted to be the one who decided when and how and who knew what.
And now that’s gone. Ripped away before we’ve even had our first date.
“I wanted...” My voice cracks. I swallow hard and try again. “I wanted to take things slowly. To have time to figure out what this is before everyone else got involved. To have somecontrolover?—”
“Hey.” He reaches for me again, and this time his hands find my shoulders. Even through my sweater, his palms are warm. “Ainsley, it’s going to be fine. I’ll talk to Mum, make sure she keeps quiet?—”
“You heard them!” I pull away, and something in his expression flickers—hurt, maybe, or confusion. “I bet they’re already out there gossiping. And even if theytryto keep quiet, it’s bound to slip out.”
“Then... so what?” He spreads his hands, genuinely baffled. “We’re two single adults. We’ve not done anything wrong.”
He really, truly doesn’t get it. And maybe that’s not his fault. But right now, standing here with my pulse racing and my chest tight, I can’t explain it. Can’t find the words to make him see.
All I know is that I need to get out. I need space. I need tothink.
“I have to go.”
“What? Ainsley, wait?—”
But I’m already moving, hurrying down the stairs then out the front door and into the bright, unforgiving daylight.
The air hits my face, cool and sharp. I gulp it down but it doesn’t help. My chest won’t loosen, my thoughts keep spiralling.
I just want to be home. In my own space. Where I can close the door and shut out the world and try to make sense of this mess.
But my home isright there—literally next door, a low hedge away from Struan’s. That’s not far enough.
I go inside only to grab my car keys then head out again and into my car.
“Ainsley!” Struan’s voice. I see him emerging from his doorway, joggers and T-shirt now on. He raises a hand to stop me. “Ainsley, wait! Can we just talk about?—”
I turn the key in the ignition. The engine coughs to life.
“Ainsley!”
I pull away, not looking back, not slowing down, just driving.
I don’t know where I’m going.
I just know I can’t stay.
