‘What for?’
‘Just being here when I needed someone. And making me laugh. It’s been a while.’
‘For you and me both. I’ll be over at the lighthouse, looking at all the displayed clocks, when you’ve finished.’
Pippa exhaled. ‘Thanks.’ She noticed the awning was open outside The Café on the Coast, with a dry bench underneath, and she took a seat. Thankfully, there was no one else around. She FaceTimed Rob and he picked up immediately.
‘I didn’t think you were going to ring back.’
For a moment, his face lit with something– maybe hope? Relief?– but it faded just as quickly when she didn’t smile.
He looked tired and a little rumpled.
Pippa took a breath and launched in. ‘I’d like to apologise for running from the wedding. It wasn’t kind, and I should have spoken up about my doubts sooner. But I was scared, and I just kept hoping things would get better.’
He leaned forwards. ‘So that’s it? You’re giving up?’
‘I think we were trying to make something work that never really fitted in the first place.’
Rob shook his head. ‘That’s not true. We were happy.’
‘Were we truly happy?’
He looked at her like she’d slapped him. ‘We had plans.’
‘Rob, I couldn’t be myself with you.’
‘That’s not fair.’
‘Isn’t it?’ she said gently. ‘I couldn’t even have the wedding I wanted. Girls dream of their wedding day, and a ceremony in a hotel and a golf honeymoon in Portugal… they’re just not my thing. Clocks are my thing. They always have been and you… you never really cared.’
‘They’re just clocks, Pippa. You act like they mean more to you than I do,’ he said defensively.
‘You’ve never even asked why I love horology, or what I’m working on. I felt like I had to shrink parts of myself just to keep the peace.’
Rob looked away.
‘I walked on eggshells,’ she went on. ‘I never felt fully seen or understood.’
He swallowed. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.’
‘I know. I wanted to be enough for you, but I think deep down we both knew I wasn’t what you really wanted either.’
Rob’s eyes glistened. ‘That’s not true.’
She gave him a small, sad smile. ‘Isn’t it?’
He pressed his palms to his forehead. ‘I’m scared, Pippa.’
She was scared too. She’d never pictured herself single, having to set up home all by herself, but underneath the nerves, there was a thrill. No more pretending, no more holding back– she could finally, fully, unapologetically just be herself.
He continued. ‘I’m scared of being alone… of not having someone. You were the constant. The plan. The person I told people I’d grow old with and now…’ He broke off. ‘Now I don’t know what comes next.’
Pippa’s heart clenched, because she understood that fear. She’d lived in it for months. But staying because of fear wasn’t love. It was survival, and that wasn’t enough.
‘I hear you,’ she said quietly. ‘But you don’t want to be with someone who’s only half-present. Who’s constantly second-guessing everything. Who ran away on your wedding day.’
They sat looking at each other in silence again. From the corner of her eye, Pippa saw Betty, the café owner, bustling towards her. Her expression was apologetic, her apron dusted with flour. She clasped her hands together as she stood at the side of the bench.
