‘This evening? And then when? You said yourself that your father monopolises your time back in Paris. How long has it been since you even visited for Christmas? I can’t trust that you’d find time for me in your life.’
‘We have found time—’
‘You’ve been on holiday, Olivier, and even that he’s curtailing.’ Her voice rose and she stopped herself. She didn’t want to sound hysterical. ‘I couldn’t rely on you to call me or to visit and I…I just can’t cope with that. Not from another person. Not from you.’
‘Ashleigh.’ His voice was so soft and disappointed, but he would get over it. Just like he had last time when he gave her his number and she hadn’t called him. ‘I…’ He nodded. ‘I understand.’
She needed to leave. Turn around and walk back up the hill to her house because this was over. Before it had even started. It was so true what she’d said. Every time she kidded herself that they could be more than friends, something literally got in the way. She’d never been one for believing in signs, but this was less of a sign and more of a flashing neon billboard saying:Get over it, Ash, it’s never going to happen.And if it did, it would end up breaking your heart.
‘Will I see you before I go?’ he asked, coming around the counter to her side.
She shrugged again and stepped back. ‘I expect so. I’m only next door aren’t I?’
He frowned and opened his mouth to say something else but she turned and headed back out through the shop.
Run away. Run away,her mind whispered, but no. She was never the one who ran away. That was everyone else and she was always the one who got left behind.
