The room falls quiet.
The sea outside.
The faint creak of the house.
His hand around mine.
I hold his gaze.
“I’m coming back because I want my life back,” I say quietly. “The version that feels like mine.”
His fingers tighten.
“And I want you in it.”
Mark closes his eyes for a second.
When he opens them, the relief there is enough to make my throat tighten.
He shifts closer until our foreheads rest together.
After a while he murmurs, “So what now?”
I let out a slow breath.
“I resigned.”
Mark leans back enough to look at me properly.
“You already resigned?”
I nod.
“A month ago.”
Something like surprise flickers across his face.
“You did all that before coming here?”
“Yes.”
“I thought this was an impulsive breakdown.”
“It was an organised breakdown.”
That earns me the faintest curve of his mouth.
I continue.
“I’ve got enough savings that I’m not about to starve, before you start looking alarmed. And Luke insisted on staying with me, which gives me one bestselling author and a reliable source of stress from day one.”
Mark lets out a quiet laugh.
“That sounds about right.”
“I’ll freelance,” I say. “Editing, author management, whatever shape it settles into. Smaller list. Authors I actually want to spend my time on.”
Mark studies me.
