‘I can shave if you like,’ he offers.
‘I’ll take you however you come,’ I reply.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
By the time we get around to eating, breakfast has become brunch. Ash is at the hob, making an omelette; I’m to his right, slicing bread for toast.
I arm-bump him, pretending to jostle for space. He nudges me in return, firmly, so my other side is squished against the counter.
‘Argh, Ash!’
The sound of his low chuckle as he drops his arm makes me feel so light, it’s as though I’ve swallowed a helium balloon.
I turn to face him, leaning my back against the counter.
‘See? Thereisroom for two in this kitchen,’ I say with a cheeky grin.
His responding smile is not as broad as I was expecting.
And when we’re at the table, tucking into our food, Ash’s mood takes a downturn. He’s finished his meal and is sitting with his elbow on the table, his body turned away from me, staring broodingly across the room.
Eventually I can stand it no longer. I put down my knife and fork and push my plate to one side, reaching over to squeeze his arm. His muscles tighten beneath my palm.
‘What’s happened?’ I ask. ‘You’ve retreated back into your shell.’
He sighs and shakes his head. Then he gets up and takes our plates to the sink, proceeding to wash them.
‘Ash?’ I get out from behind the table and walk a few paces towards him.
‘Why are we doing this?’ He turns around to face me, shaking off his wet hands. ‘I have nothing to offer you.’
‘You haveeverythingto offer me,’ I say fervently.
‘My car has been sitting in that shed for six months because I can’t afford to replace the turbo. Everything I kept for myself, I spent on this place.’ He drops his gaze to the floor. ‘I barely have enough to get by.’
I frown. ‘I don’t care what you have, I’m more than capable of looking after myself. But what happened to the rest of the money from the house sale?’ I’m confused. It must have amounted to millions.
‘I put some in a trust fund for the workers – they’ll never have to pay rent on the cottages or the cabin – and I gave a chunk to my mother to see her get by comfortably. The rest I donated to the National Trust.’
I stare at him, reeling. He shifts on his feet self-consciously.
My eyes well up and I walk straight into his chest. His body is hard and unmoving as I slip my arms around his waist and rest my cheek on his shoulder. But after only a few seconds, his hands come around my back and his body softens against mine.
‘I’m so proud of you,’ I whisper.
I feel him draw in a long, shaky breath and exhale just as jaggedly.
Late that afternoon, we walk out to the edge of the forest with a blanket, two camping mugs and a bottle of wine. Ash says that he wants to show me something, and I have no idea what.
Once we’re seated on our blanket, he opens the bottle and pours some wine into my mug, followed by his own. We knock them together and take a sip.
I smile up at the sky. ‘It’s beautiful here.’
‘So peaceful.’
‘Apart from the birds.’ They’re still making a racket in the trees.
He chuckles. ‘I find that sound peaceful too.’
