I turn around.
“She loves you. And you love her.”
He gives me a sad smile.
“Don’t screw this up.”
I walk inside the cottage.
It’s still empty.
My gaze lands on a folded piece of paper left on the table.
My name is written across it in Mary’s quick, familiar handwriting.
I pick it up and unfold it.
Thank you for these past few weeks. It could’ve been real. — M.
Could’ve been.
Past tense.
Because for her, this is over.
The way she summarizes everything in one sentence completely shatters me.
It could’ve been real.
But I never gave it the chance.
I never gave us the chance.
Suddenly, I hear movement outside.
My heart slams violently against my ribs, and before I can think, I’m already heading for the door.
“Mary?”
I swing it open.
But it isn’t Mary standing there.
It’s Ragnar.
The sheep walks inside without hesitation, crosses the room, and settles beside the table.
Then he lifts his head and fixes those dark, intelligent eyes on me.
And there we are.
One broken man.
One sheep as his only friend.
Honestly, it’s pathetic.
CHAPTER 30
