‘And what’s next for you on that path?’ she asked, her voice steadier now, though her heartbeat wasn’t.
Oliver exhaled, leaning back slightly. ‘A year in the States. I’ve got a job reporting on some of the best chefs in New York, San Francisco and everywhere in between. It’s an incredible opportunity, a dream, really.’
Clemmie managed a smile, but inside, a dull ache was beginning to spread through her chest. ‘That sounds amazing,’ she said, meaning it. She was happy for him, truly, but the thought of him leaving so soon after the baking competition ended made her stomach twist.
‘It is,’ Oliver said, though his tone carried a touch of hesitation. ‘It’s everything I’ve worked for.’
Clemmie nodded, forcing herself to look excited for him. ‘You’ll be incredible, you’re perfect for it. I can already imagine you charming your way into every Michelin-starred kitchen in America.’
He chuckled softly, but there was a sadness in his eyes. ‘It’ll be an adventure, that’s for sure.’
‘And a long one,’ Clemmie added, trying to keep her tone light.
Oliver nodded, his gaze dropping to the table. ‘Yeah. I’ll be gone for a while.’
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound Clemmie could hear was her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
She wanted to say something–anything– to break the silence, to chase away the looming reality of his departure. But what could she say? That she didn’t want him to go? That she hated the idea of him being on the other side of the world, out of reach, when she had only just begun to feel like they were finding their way back to each other?
Instead, she said nothing, her fingers tightening slightly around her champagne flute.
‘It’s only a year.’ He gave her a small, almost shy smile.
‘You’ll be amazing, and just think of all the opportunities that will open up. You’ll be either reporting for the most famous food magazine in the States or presenting a cooking show on TV.’ Her voice trembled slightly as she said, ‘This is your dream.’
‘It is.’
‘I’m happy for you,’ she said. The words came out steady, but inside, her emotions were swirling like a storm. ‘I really am. You deserve this.’
‘Can we keep in touch this time?’
Clemmie nodded, a small, almost automatic gesture, but her heart was already breaking in two again. As much as she tried to play it cool, as much as she had pretended his arrival on Puffin Island was no big deal, deep down, she had been thrilled. His presence had awakened a hope she thought she had buried for good, a hope for something more.
But now? Now he was leaving again. The dull ache in her chest intensified as the reality sank in. She understood why he had to go– this opportunity was huge, a career-defining moment for him– and she was proud of him, truly, but that pride was tangled with an ache she couldn’t ignore.
She forced a smile, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her glass. ‘Of course we can. You’ll have to keep me updated on all the fancy Michelin-starred meals and celebrity chefs you meet.’
Oliver grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘You’ll be the first to know. Though I’ll probably bore you with details about every soufflé and scallop.’
She laughed softly and tried to imagine what it would be like to hear his stories from afar, to read his texts or emails, to listen to his voice over the phone, knowing he was on the other side of the world. And worse, knowing hewas living an incredible life, meeting new people, making new memories… without her.
The thought unsettled her. As much as she wanted to be supportive, she wasn’t sure if she could handle hearing aboutall the amazing things he’d be doing without her. Would she be happy for him? Or would each story be a reminder of what she couldn’t have?
Oliver looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against hers. The touch sent a jolt through her, but she didn’t pull away.
Oliver stood, holding out a hand. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s go grab a nightcap at the bar. Weareon the Royal Yacht, after all. Let’s make some more memories.’
She smiled, placing her napkin on the table. There was no doubt this night would be a cherished memory, one she’d tell her grandchildren about, but seeing him again like this, having these moments while knowing he was leaving, it felt almost cruel. Every smile and glance only served as a reminder of what they couldn’t have. She told herself that keeping her distance would be the smart choice, the sensible thing to do. If she let herself get closer, it would only make saying goodbye harder. Could she really go through that again? They walked towards the bar, her thoughts tumbling over each other. Maybe if she blocked out her real feelings, she could cope. Pretend that this was nothing more than a pleasant evening between old friends, that the weight pressing against her ribs wasn’t longing but nostalgia. But even as she tried to convince herself, she knew the truth: her heart had never quite let him go. And here, on the Royal Yacht, the flickering candlelight reflecting in his eyes, the chemistry between them was undeniable. Off the scale.
They sat down at a table and Oliver took hold of Clemmie’s hands. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Of course.’ What was the point in telling him how she felt? It wouldn’t change anything. The situation remained the same as it always had been: her life was here and his was elsewhere. Being honest with Oliver would only stir up emotions neither of themcould afford to entertain. So she swallowed the words, buried them deep and forced herself to meet his gaze with a smile that felt steady, even if she didn’t.
Whatever this night was turning into, whether it was a rekindling of something lost, the start of something new or just a fleeting moment in an extraordinary setting, she wasn’t ready for it to end just yet.
Chapter Eleven
The kitchen of The Café on the Coast hummed with a lively mix of excitement and nerves on the day of the competition. Sunlight streamed through the windows and the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the aromas of buttered toast, crispy bacon and scrambled eggs. Betty flitted about, placing jars of homemade jam and a pot of golden honey on the table while Clemmie, Amelia and Dilly settled in for a chat.
