Rita blurted, brain disengaged, ‘Jago, I have moved on!’ But even she heard how hollow it sounded. And then, the killer blow. ‘But, it’s just… you do so remind me of him.’
‘Jesus, Rita!’ Jago dragged his hands through his floppy dark fringe. ‘That’s enough.’
His jaw tightened. He stood. ‘Maybe we need some space. I can’t do this if your heart isn’t in it.’
Rita shot upright, covers flying. ‘Space? Seriously? After what we did this morning?’
Hurt flashed bright across his features. ‘Yes. I need to know you’re here, with me and not with the memory of Archie. And that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to grieve him.’ His voice cracked. ‘Shit, this is so difficult. I miss him too but…’ He paced the room before spinning back to face her. ‘The truth is, I’ve been feeling unsettled about us lately, too.’
Rita’s breath caught. ‘Oh, darling, why didn’t you say something?’
‘In fact,’ he pushed on, his voice tightening, ‘I don’t know if you’re with me because you want me, or because I happened to be there.’
‘No, no way. You’re being unreasonable, now, Jago.’
‘In fact, sometimes it feels like you only ever let me so close.’
‘Jago.’ Rita’s voice softened. ‘You’re not thinking clearly now.’
He headed for the door. ‘I need some time to think. Just leave me alone for a bit.’ A tremor ran through his voice. ‘Please.’
Tears pricked Rita’s eyes. ‘We’ve got something good here. Really good.’
He swallowed hard. ‘I have to tend to the animals.’
‘You’re overreacting,’ she muttered.
He paused, turned back, tears glistening. ‘I love you, Rita. And the thought of you not feeling the same… I can’t bear it.’
When the door shut behind him, the farmhouse felt suddenly cavernous.
With shaking hands, Rita dressed. ‘Valentine’s Day is officially cursed,’ she whispered.
But deeper than that joke lay the creeping doubt.Have I really moved on from Archie?
Yes, she loved being with Jago. Buthadshe jumped too soon?
One slip of a name and suddenly everything felt fragile. She hated that her heart had jolted in fear when she saw that box, hated even more that Jago had seen it.
As she descended the stairs, another sting of tears rose. She could still see how wounded he’d looked.
‘God!’ she muttered, exhaling sharply. Why were matters of the heart so complicated, even in your forties? She tried to picture life without Jago and couldn’t. Archie was gone. Forever. Jago was here and now. It would be fine, she tried to convince herself. They’d had minor quarrels before. But shehadhad doubts, and Jago had seen her falter when she thought he was proposing. This time, she feared that this beautiful, stubborn, wonderful man might not find it quite so easy to come back.
ONE
Four weeks later Rita Jory stood in her kitchen, casually dressed in joggers and one of Jago’s oversized hoodies. Staring out over the orchard, she heard the wind whipping around the farmhouse, rattling the bare branches of the trees, and carrying a lonely whistle across the sombre grey sky. Outside looked cold, quiet, and a little miserable, not unlike she was feeling today.
She missed Jago. The laughter, the fun, the relief he offered from the monotony of everyday life.
Since Valentine’s Day they had exchanged only a handful of texts. They had seen each other in passing and, even then, barely spoken. Jago had been clear that he needed time. They both did. Time to work out what they really felt.
She knew he was right, but that did nothing to dull the ache.
Rita picked up her planner and forced herself to concentrate on her to-do list. It had been almost a year since she’d opened the Seahaven Bay Retreat. And what a rollercoaster of a year it had been. She’d made a firm decision last autumn: no organised retreats from January to March. It was simply too cold, wet and miserable for anyone to enjoy breathing exercises in the High Meadow or icy plunges in the sea. But with the extra cash now coming in, she’d been able to invest in transforming thetemporary marquee structure, previously known as the Snack Shack, into the Cosy Café, a place for eating, drinking, and reflection. Rita had also converted one of the larger outhouses into the Nook, a space for mindful creativity, and upgraded the shower and toilet block.
So, Christmas this year? Rain, snow, or shine, she was absolutely organising a festive retreat. It was her favourite time of year, full of twinkly lights, mulled wine, and the comforting chaos she secretly thrived on. And now they had more facilities, she could make everything just a little bit more magical and hopefully warmer!
In fact, this year was shaping up to be busier than ever. She wanted to work with the seasons. On her vision board were the Spring Awakening Retreat, a gentle Eastertime reset to coax everyone out of winter hibernation and into the blossom-bright new season. Summer would bring the Sun-Kissed Serenity Retreat, all long hazy days, sunset meditations, and barefoot yoga in the orchard. Autumn practically begged for the Halloween Hocus-PocusRetreat, where guests could fully unleash their woo-woo side, with moon-circle rituals and pumpkin-spiced everything. The Christmas Cosy-Up Escape would be a fireside haven of twinkling lights, hot-chocolate sound baths, and deeply indulgent self-care.
