But in two days, they’d be gone from here. She couldn’t shake that part of the deal, either. And with Isadora’s cookbook laying out, paired with the random arrival of her ex, it further drove the statement home that happy endings were rare.
There was a lot for her to think about today. A lot of questions that needed answering. There was no resolution with Isadora or her story. Did she ever find love again? Were they somehow able to start a family together, or had her new significant other loved her regardless of her ability to give him children? Or was that the point of all this happening, that it was to show Eliza that, despite her efforts, any love kindled here always was extinguished?
“Just thinking, I suppose,” she added..
Lachlan raised a brow, suspicious. “You know, you don’t normally think this hard when there’s sugar and coffee involved. What’s going on, Snow?”
She hesitated before setting her mug down. She needed to tell him. She’d been keeping the secret of Isadora from him for too long. “I’ve been baking all week … ” she started.
Lachlan snorted. “Gained a few pounds to prove it. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Well, I’ve sort of been … waiting to bake some things when you and Puffcake go to sleep,” she confessed.
Lachlan cut his eyes at her, feigning a look of offense. “You mean you save some things for yourself?” He shook his head. “Even for you, that’s cold, Snow.”
She stopped him. “They were from this recipe book. It revealed itself to me the first night we came here. Just literally fell onto the floor behind me. It was like it was wanting me to pick it up from the shelf, and so that’s what I did. I baked them while you and Puffcake were asleep.
“There were certainmemoriesattached to each of the desserts. They were about a woman named Isadora.” She tapped on the title page. “The first one came with a happy memory, about her and her husband. But after that, they became progressively sadder and sadder, until the last memory was the saddest of all. She was left by her husband because they couldn’t have children together.” A tear slipped from Eliza’s eye. “Isadora’s the reason this cottage is cursed. She cursed it when he left. She even made Puffcake because of it, too. She’s the reason we can’t leave here unless we’re together.”
He grabbed Eliza’s hand from across the table. “I should personally thank her for her sorcery, then. It’s because of her that we were brought together.”
She bit her cheek, looking down at their conjoined hands. The soft ticking of the grandfather clock was the only soundbetween them. It reminded Eliza of one of the last memories in the cookbook, where Isadora was sitting all alone—in this very spot—with her palms buried in her face as she wept, the letter from her husband before her.
The feeling was so overwhelming, she had to look away. She felt sick to her stomach as she pulled her hand back.
His brows furrowed. “Eliza? Are you alright?”
“I guess I’m just trying to figure out what happens next,” she said carefully. “After tomorrow, when all the magic fades.”
“What do you mean?” He blinked.
She blew out a frustrated breath. “Imean, we’ve been living in a little enchanted bubble these past few days. Baking, skating, sleigh rides, flour fights ... whateverthisis,” she gestured between the two of them. “But what happens when all this is over? What happens when we leave here and we drive our separate ways, leave these gingerbread walls behind?”
“We’ll visit each other,” he reassured her. There was so much confidence in his tone that Eliza almost believed him. He made it seem so easy.
“You live in another region, Lachlan,” she reminded him. “I’m in London. You’re in Littlehampton. You’ve got a career. I’m going to be building mine from scratch again, probably working insane hours just to make ends meet.”
Lachlan shrugged, like he already had it figured out. “Five and a half hours is nothing. I could even pick up homes in the London area, and I’ll help you out?—”
“Yeah, and rely on you for funds? No thanks. I’m not asking for your help. Can you just cut the good guy act for two seconds?”
Lachlan looked taken aback. “You think I’macting?”
Eliza met his eyes. “That isn’t what I meant?—”
“No, I think that’s exactly what you meant.” He rose from the chair, running a hand through his hair.
“I just meant that—I just think you might decide you find a better offer somewhere else, and then you’ll be done with me. I’ll go back to trying to rebuild what I lost, and pretending that I’m okay.”
Lachlan went entirely still. Only his jaw popped in and out a few times before he spoke again. “You seriously think I would do that?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. After everything she’d recently been through, she’d just opened her heart again. She wouldn’t be able to stand it if Lachlan decided to walk away, too. She shrugged. “I barely know you.”
She saw the way the words landed, and she instantly regretted saying them. She wished for a rewind button, one where she could take it all back. What was she trying to do, exactly? Was she doing the classic “push him away to see if he’ll only lean in closer” tactic? Because if so, she felt kind of pathetic in doing so. That doesn’t happen in real life.
But there he was, still there. Still leaning on the kitchen counter across from her, trying to listen. Looking incredibly wounded, but still listening.
Her phone buzzed on the island, and she picked it up to check it.
