‘Not yet.’ Her own eyes glistened now. ‘I’m scared of things changing if I let this happen. I need you to be a hundred, no, a thousand percent serious about this, Stru.’
‘What about a million?’ She scoffed, but he wasn’t joking. He didn’t know how to prove justhowserious he was about Rae. Didn’t know how to explain that, for the first time in his life, he’d found a certainty, a home, and he had no intention of ever letting it go.
‘I don’t intend to fuck this up,’ he vowed. ‘She’s all I want. I know it’s scary. I know she’s your best friend. I wouldn’t dream of ruining that. I just… I can’t stop loving her. I don’t want to, either. Even if you were never okay with it, even if I had to avoid her for all of time, even if it hurt like fuck for the rest of my bloody life, I wouldn’t want to stop. She’s part of me. The best part of me, probably.’
‘Well, shite.’ Martha leaned her head back against the tree trunk, whistling through her teeth. ‘You’re down bad.’
He should have been embarrassed, but the burning in his cheeks was sincerity, nothing else. He wasn’t ashamed to love her loudly, especially not if it was the only way to convince Martha he was worthy.
‘Aye, I am.’
‘Good. You should be.’ She rose from the ground, palm covering their etching as she used the trunk for support. ‘If I wasn’t also very in love, I’d be vomiting right now, by the way.’
‘We make quite the pair of heartsick lumps, don’t we?’
‘Hm.’
Fuck, he couldn’t wait to see Rae. He was already dreaming about what he’d say, how he’d say it. How he’d put his hands on her hips and squeeze. How her face would crease with that soft, gorgeous smile, and how she’d taste like berries when he kissed her.
How this time he wouldn’t have to let her go. They could have days, weeks, months, in each other’s arms. Years, even. He’d spend a lifetime memorising her body and her sounds and her touch. He’d look for her in every room and always find her.
He’d marry her, if she let him.
They’d build their own version of a life, on the farm or in the mountains or across restaurants and cities. Whatever she wanted, needed, he’d be there, because allheneeded was her.
Finally, Martha broke her silence. ‘It’s going to take me a minute to get used to all this. I’ll try to be normal about it by the time you get home, okay?’ She jabbed a finger at him. ‘Just don’t make me regret this. I mean it.’
‘I won’t.’ He couldn’t keep from beaming as that future finally yawned out in front of him. He wished he was back in Belbarrow now. Spending the next two weeks without her would be torture.
‘And’, Martha continued pointedly, ‘maybe just wait to tell her in person. She has enough on her plate as it is, and I know a lot of it’s my fault. I just want to make it right first and get her through all the chaos.’
‘She’s okay, though?’ He was already rising from the bed like something was tugging him forward, back to her. If she was struggling—
‘She’s fine. Putting on a brave face.’
He knew just how brave that face could be, but also how devastating the inevitable explosion might turn out. He thought of her that night in the cupboard, shuddering and hollow.
‘I’m taking care of her. We all are,’ Martha promised, her feet slapping soil as she walked. Her words didn’t provide nearly enough comfort, part of him still teetering on the edge of a decision. ‘I’ll call you again later this week.’
‘Just tell me if something changes. If she needs me, or something happens with Doug—’
‘I will. Promise.’
He settled back down into the crisp bedsheets.
Rae would be fine, he convinced himself. She always was. She didn’t need him.
It was him who needed her. Always had been.
Likely, always would be.
37
Rae stood on the porch overlooking the fields of fruits and families, her grip on the wooden railing extra tight. Somehow, she’d done it – not without an entire village supporting her through it, of course. The fair had only begun an hour ago, and already Sweetbriar overflowed with crowds lining up to pick their own berries and splurge at the countless stalls, with a few fairground rides, bouncy castles, and even a face painter entertaining the younger children by the river. She’d worried that the free entry price wouldn’t be enough to earn back the outgoing costs, but if business continued like this even for another few hours, she had every faith that a profit would be made soon enough.
Her jams and chutneys were going down a treat, Myra offering out samples of Rae’s special ‘Sweet Raeberry Jam’ – a blend of tayberry, apple, dark chocolate and a refreshing dash of mint. She’d only come up with it because she hadn’t been able to sleep over the last few nights, and instead of getting lost in her head, she had found herself gravitating back towards the kitchen like old times. She’d also distracted herself by baking with Gran, strawberry shortcake, fruit tarts, and – Granddad’s favourite – traditional cranachan stocked alongside ice cream and sorbets in the farm shop’s new fridge and freezer.She hadn’t had nearly enough time to experiment yet, but she looked forward to getting her fingers sticky once everything calmed.
Beside her stood Gran with her hands on her hips, turquoise linen shirt rolled up to her elbows. ‘We’ll never have a peaceful summer after this,’ she grumbled.
