For a while, it’s easy to forget who I am outside this place — the man with deadlines, with pressure, with a reputation for keeping people at arm’s length.
But Matilda sees right through all that.
She doesn’t push, doesn’t pry — she justsees me.And that’s far more dangerous than anything else.
Later, she agrees to a hike — reluctantly. I promise her it’ll be worth it. Halfway in, she’s panting and muttering curses under her breath, which makes me laugh.
“My legs don’t work anymore,” she groans. “Go on without me.”
“We’ve only walked four miles,” I tease.
“Exactly! Four miles is insane. I’m dying.”
I laugh and press a kiss to her head. “Ten more minutes and there’s a bottle of Chardonnay waiting for you.”
She perks up instantly. “Oh, thank the heavens.”
“Good to know what motivates you.”
“Wine and a hot bath and I’m yours,” she fires back.
I grin, catching her hand and spinning her around to face me. “So you’re not mine already?”
Her breath catches. For a moment, she doesn’t answer — her eyes wide, searching mine like she’s trying to read the truth there. The air between us shifts, heavier, realer.
She opens her mouth to speak, but I brush a strand of hair behind her ear before she can — my usual escape when things start feeling too real.
“Come on,” I say softly. “Let’s get you back. I’ll run you that bath.”
I lace my fingers through hers as we walk the last stretch back to the cabin, and for once, I don’t want to let go.
Forty
Henry
Evening settles around the cabin, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the heaviness in my chest.
It’s been one of the best weekends of my life — maybethebest — but the thought of leaving tomorrow gnaws at me. Being here with Matilda, away from everything else, has shown me what my lifecouldbe. Peaceful. Simple. Whole.
I could have this every day, if things weren’t so damn complicated.
I’m not naive. The fact that Matilda is my assistant isn’t something HR — or anyone else — will take lightly. Even though I sign their paycheques, I’m not above scrutiny. And with her now up for a promotion, it’s a bloody nightmare waiting to happen. If she gets the role, everyone will assume I handed it to her — that she didn’t earn it. Which couldn’t be further from the truth.
She’s perfect for the job. I wish she’d just let megiveit to her, but I know she won’t. She needs to prove it to herself — to know she’s enough.
And the awful part? I didn’t help those insecurities. I see that now. I held her back, dismissed her ideas, made her feel small without even realising it. Too wrapped up in my own selfish chaos to see what was right in front of me.
She’s always gone above and beyond, and I never truly acknowledged it. Now, I want to make it right. I want to show her how much she means to me — because, Christ, she meanseverything.
She got this old, closed-off heart of mine beating again, after I’d buried it years ago and thrown away the key.
“Hey,” Matilda’s voice breaks through my thoughts. She’s standing behind me, peeking over my shoulder as I plate up the food. “What’s all this?”
“I thought we could eat outside by the firepit,” I say, arranging the last few things on the wooden board. “Just some things to pick at. That okay?”
Her face lights up. “That sounds great.” She leans in to inspect the platter and lets out a laugh. “Somethings to pick at? Henry, this looks incredible.”
I glance down at the spread — dips, olives, cured meats, fresh bread, about five types of cheese — and wince. Okay, maybe I got carried away.
