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“That’s quick,” he says. “You’ll smash it.”

“I hope so.” I watch his profile instead of the snow.

His fingers still on the steering wheel. Only for a second. Then they start tapping again.

“They mentioned a staff writer position. In New York. If the piece goes well, they’d be interested. Which is good because my old job isn’t exactly safe right now.”

The car crawls forward another few feet. He checks his mirrors. Signals. It’s all very calm and controlled.

“That’s great news.” He glances at me and smiles. “I’m pleased for you.”

“Thank you.”

It takes another two hours of slow but steady driving, before we reach the north part of the county.

The countryside is flatter and wider than I expected. The bushes fall away into long stretches of open marshland dusted in white. We take a left onto a narrow road, only one car’s width, with passing points every hundred yards or so.

“We’re almost there,” Theo says, quieter than before.

We crest a gentle rise and I catch my first glimpse of wrought iron gates in the distance, black against the whitewash of snow. Beyond them, I can make out the faint outline of a house set far back from the road.

As we get closer, Ravensmere rises out of the light dusting of snow like it’s been waiting for us. It’s built of honey-colored Georgian stone, the tall sash windows lined in disciplined rows. Two long wings stretch out on either side, as if the house has squared its shoulders against the wind.

And in the distance I can see an expanse of open water. It looks dark and foreboding, nothing like the British seaside image I’ve held in my head.

“What ocean is that?” I ask.

“The North Sea. If you get in a boat, eventually you’ll hit the Netherlands. A bit farther north is Norway.”

He doesn’t look at me as he says it. Just drives slowly across the gravel before we come to a stop in front of what looks like abandoned stables. He puts the car into park and shuts off the engine, letting out a long breath.

A moment later he climbs out of the car, the wind whipping his hair up as he walks over to my side and opens the door. I step out, my breath stolen by the wind and view, thick snowflakes clinging to my coat as my hair dances around my face.

“This all belongs to your family?” I gesture vaguely at the grounds, the endless stretch of coastline beyond.

His mouth curves, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Technically, it’s my father’s. Then it will be Alex’s. But one day…” He shrugs. “You know the drill.”

Yes, I do know that. It’ll be his or his children’s.

Barking cuts through the air. A whole pack of dogs run toward us, launching themselves at Theo. They surround him, their tails thumping against him and each other, panting loudly at the sight of the prodigal son who’s returned home.

“At least they’re glad to see me,” he says, leaning down to rub their heads.

The front door opens and a couple step out. Theo looks up, his face relaxing into a smile. “Come and meet Mike and Barbara,” he tells me. “I’ll get our luggage in a bit.”

“Mike and Barbara?” I ask, unsure if they’re related to him or family friends.

“They run the place. Have for years.” He takes my hand and leads me up toward the house. The dogs bounce and pant around us as we head up the stairs. Theo steps forward and hugs Barbara, the tiny woman fitting under his arm perfectly. Then he and Mike shake hands, and the way they both smile back at him makes it clear that Theo means more to them than simply being their boss’ son.

“Georgia, this is Barbara and Mike,” Theo says, rubbing his hand against my back.

“Hi, it’s great to meet you both.” I hold my hand out. Mike shakes it. But Barbara pulls me into a hug. And I’m here for it. She’s soft and warm and gives great cuddles.

“You’re beautiful,” she says when she lets me go. She looks happier to see me than Theo’s mom did at Harrods. “I’m so glad Theo brought you here to meet us.”

Nobody else is here to greet us. Not a single member of his family has rushed down to hug him. Not that I’m bothered, but I think Theo might be.

“Hurry up and come in,” Barbara says. “It’s freezing out there. If you hang around here you’ll catch your deaths.” She squeezes my hand tightly, all but pulling me inside. “I’ll put the kettle on,” she tells me. “And make us all a nice cup of tea.”