‘My new boss wants me to start sooner,’ I say, the words coming without me having planned them. They float there in the air between us, and her eyes narrow slightly. She puts down her mug, and gives me a gentle smile. It’s not the full wattage heartbreaker, but it’s enough to do some damage.
‘That’s not true is it, Brody?’ She sighs, and reaches out to take my hand in hers. ‘We promised each other honesty at the start of all this. Let’s finish that way too. Let’s not end this with a lie.’
I hold on to her fingers, and drop a quick kiss onto her palm. I break contact then, because this is hard enough already, without adding in the fact that every time I touch this woman I forget the rest of the world exists.
‘You’re right, Kate. I’m sorry.’
‘About what?’
‘About everything. I never intended to hurt you, you know that, right?’
‘I do,’ she assures me, maintaining that insanely calm voice. ‘And you’re not the bad guy here, Brody. Neither am I. We met, and something magical happened, and then it ended. I wanted more than you could give, but I need you to know that I don’t resent you for that. I always knew, deep down, that it couldn’t last – and I don’t regret a single moment of it.’
‘Really?’ I ask, feeling choked up by her words. ‘Even that first day on the train, when you spilled coffee on me like a complete klutz?’
She grins a little. ‘Not even that. And maybe I did it on purpose to get your attention.’
‘Did you?’
‘God no, like you said, I’m just a klutz! But it was the start, wasn’t it? The start of all of this. Moira’s master plan in action. And I wouldn’t change a thing, I promise you.’
Her hazel eyes are avoiding mine, and I can’t help thinking that she’s holding back. That she must have more to say, she must have some pain and frustration that she needs to vent. Or maybe I’m overestimating my importance, not for the first time.
‘You’re sure?’ I ask, part of me wanting her to make this more difficult. To fight for it – which is ironic, considering that I’m the one doing the walking.
‘I’m sure. I understand, Brody. I understand that you’re not ready. You didn’t ask for me to fall in love with you. That’s all on me, and again, I don’t even regret it – it was wonderful to feel that way, even if it didn’t work out. I will always treasure what we had here, but you don’t owe me anything at all. I wish you nothing but the best, I promise.’
This is too simple. Too easy. I don’t deserve this grace, this kindness. I deserve a slap across the face, a punch to the gut, a knee to the groin. I’ve broken what we had, and she is letting me go with a minimum of consequence. She’s trying to make me feel better about myself, for God’s sake!
I stare into her eyes, see the hint of a tear. Her smile falters, and I get a glimpse beneath the layers of serenity to the turmoil beneath. Does it make me an asshole that I’m glad? That I want her to be sad? Yeah. I think it does.
‘Please, Brody,’ she says, her voice now cracking with emotion. ‘Please leave it at this for now? We can speak again when you’re home. When we both feel less vulnerable. But for now, let’s end this the way we started it – with hope.’
I let out a long breath, and nod.
TWENTY-EIGHT
KATE
By the end of the day, he’s gone. I held it together, and I even helped him pack. We managed a few laughs as we did it, reminiscing about the times we’d shared, even enjoying one final walk on the beach. We saw the puffins, and I swear he teared up a little as he said goodbye to Peter and Polly and their puffin kin.
The weather seemed to vibe with our mood, an overcast day with occasional rays of sunshine bursting through the clouds to shimmer on the waves. ‘I’ll miss this,’ he said, taking my hand as we strolled. ‘All of it.’
I know he doesn’t just mean the views, or the birds, or the dolphins, or the bookshop. I know he means me, too. I understand that he’s capable of both missing me, and knowing that this is the right thing to do. He needs to leave, because ironically, he is too decent a man to stay under false pretences. Now he knows how I feel about him, he won’t allow himself to play with my heart. He’s too honourable for that.
I can’t help wondering how this might have turned out if I hadn’t said what I said. If I hadn’t accidentally revealed, to both of us, that I loved him. Would we have spent the rest of the summer in ignorant bliss? Would more time together have unlocked the parts of him that are holding him back? And whenwould I have finally realised that we’d created a whole new life together? I don’t suppose I will ever know.
I have had a few moments where I’ve felt weak, scared, tempted to tell him. When I woke up from my patchy sleep that first night back home, opening my eyes to see him sitting a vigil across from me in the chair. He looked so big, so solid, so incredibly reassuring. It would have been so easy to tell him about the baby, to let him comfort me and tell me that everything was going to be fine. Too easy, and I would never have trusted his reaction. I will tell him when we both have the space to handle it without either of us feeling obliged to the other.
Now, after a day of bittersweet pleasures, he is finally leaving. He’s put his luggage in his hire car, and is setting off for the airport in Aberdeen. He’ll fly to London, see Shannon in Oxford, then head back to Chicago. Back to his family, to his home, to his new job – his real life.
‘I fixed the broken wheel on your bag,’ he says, as we amble towards the doorway of the cottage.
‘Of course you did,’ I reply, smiling at the memory of our first day together, me bumping the silly thing along the cobbles until he was so annoyed he picked it up and carried it. So much has changed since then.
We stand together awkwardly, both reluctant to reach out. I’m scared that if I touch him, I’ll never be able to let him go.
‘Will you call me?’ he asks, his hand flickering out to make contact with mine. I grab hold of it, squeeze it tightly, and then let go.
