He reaches for one of my hands, enveloping it between both of his. “I had a meeting with the city today. They didn’t pass my permit requests to turn the Village into a year-round amusement park. They drew it out and made me wait like the money-hungry bastards they are. I plan to appeal in the new year, but for now…well…” He clears his throat again, shifting around in his seat. “For now I’ll be returning to Scotland.”
“Scotland,” I say faintly. “Oh.” I always knew this was a possibility, but I held out hope for a miracle. Or at the very least, I’d hoped Hugh would stay in Canada regardless and attend to some of his other business.
“I’d planned to stay,” he says, making me wonder briefly if I accidentally spoke my thoughts aloud. “I’d thought if the worst happened and I didn’t get the permits, I’d at least stay through Christmas and New Year’s. But my sister called me the other night to tell me she’s engaged and she wants us to be together as a family for Christmas. She laid it on thick, as she’s known to do, talking about how our parents can’t be here and what a special time it is.” He’s got a faraway look in his eyes. A wistful, affectionate smile ghosts over his lips. “I was still debating what to do, but then after today…”
“You’re going home,” I say. “You have to go. She’s your sister, and you have hardly any family left.”
“Exactly.” His shoulders slump slightly, like he’s relieved. “Thank you for understanding that.”
A bittersweet smile twists my lips. On an intellectual level, I understand. My heart, however, is a different matter. “When do you leave?”
He swallows hard. “There’s a staff party on the twenty-third, the day after the Village closes. I’ll likely fly out late that night or the next morning.”
My lungs seize, as if all the air has been knocked out of me. The twenty-third. That only gives us a little more than a week together before he goes, and we’ll both be working almost non-stop between now and then. I nod, unable to form words and afraid if I do I’ll start crying.
“I’m sorry, Ivy,” he says. “I truly am. I was hoping things would work out with the Village and I’d be able to stay. I could return after New Year’s, but I have business to attend to in Scotland, so it would mean traveling back and forth.”
“Right. It makes more sense to just stay there.” My voice is flat, lifeless. I can hardly look at Hugh’s tortured expression. His hands are wrapped so tightly around mine, I think he’s squeezed all the blood out of it. “W-we agreed not to get too serious. We always knew this was a possibility.” I don’t add that I ignored my own rule and went ahead and started to fall for him anyway. It’s my own fault.
After a long pause, Hugh frees one of his hands and lifts my chin so I’ll meet his gaze. His eyes search mine. “You know I care for you, right? And I’d stay if I could.”
“Of course,” I say. “And I care for you too. We’re just not meant to be. At least not right now.”
He winces. “I know I said I didn’t want to do long distance, but—”
“No.” I hold up a hand to cut him off. “No, I think you were right. We haven’t known each other that long, and we’ve kept things casual. It would be foolish to put that kind of strain on a budding relationship.”
I can’t read his expression. Finally, he nods slowly. “I do agree it seems like a lot of pressure when we haven’t even officially entered a relationship. Maybe we can agree to put things on pause for now. I won’t be gone forever, after all.”
“On pause,” I say, attempting to smile. “But we need to promise each other if something happens—if either of us meets someone else, or if you decide you’re not coming back—we need to be honest with each other. Deal?” I can’t imagine dating anyone else anytime soon, so I say this mostly for his benefit. His puppy-dog eyes—searching for understanding, wanting to make this right—are twisting the knife in my heart. I can’t make this harder for him by begging him to stay or making demands.
“Deal.” He squeezes my hand. Strained silence falls over the table. I miss his easy smile and the laughter we’ve shared all evening. It’s been such a fun night; I don’t want this uncomfortable, guilt-ridden fog to settle over us now.
“How would you feel about getting dessert to go?” I suggest. “We can take it back to my place and…” I trail off, unsure how to finish that sentence.
He doesn’t respond for a moment. Then, with his eyes never leaving mine, he lifts his free hand to motion for Don. “Sounds perfect.”
