He didn’t speak right away, he just sat beside me, shoulders angled toward mine.
“I’m not surprised they’ve been keeping track of the weather reports and airports.” he asked softly.
I swallowed and a silence settled, it felt heavy and filled with tension. Or perhaps, that was just me as he flicked through his phone, there must have been other messages.
“I knew you’d have to leave eventually,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. “I told myself I was prepared for it. But seeing it… seeing the actual words…” My throat tightened. “It hit me harder than I expected.”
Oliver exhaled slowly, setting his mug on the table. “Come here.”
I hesitated, then allowed him to take my hand and guide me closer. He didn’t pull me against him, didn’t try to fix what couldn’t be fixed in a single breath. He simply sat with me, grounding me, thumb stroking along the side of my palm.
“You’re not wrong to feel this,” he said quietly. “Any of it.”
“I shouldn’t have read it,” I insisted. “I feel awful about that.”
“I don’t mind,” he said gently. “Honestly. I’d rather you know than wonder.”
That made something in my chest ache even more.
“I didn’t expect it to hurt this much,” I whispered.
His jaw tightened, but his voice stayed calm. “I’m still here. I’m not leaving this minute. And last night didn’t change because of a plane ticket.”
“It didn’t?” My voice cracked, humiliatingly soft.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Of course not. Last night meant something. Every moment of it.”
I stared at our joined hands, fragile and warm and frighteningly precious.
“I don’t want to lose what I have here,” I whispered. “My home, my bakery… and now maybe you. It feels like everything in my life is hanging by a thread.”
He shifted closer, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Then let me hold one of the threads.”
I let out a shaky laugh that wasn’t really a laugh at all. “I don’t know how to believe in this when everything else is falling apart.”
His thumb brushed the back of my hand again. “Then we’ll take it one day at a time. No promises you’re not ready for. No pressure. Just… us. Trying.”
I closed my eyes, letting those words settle. Trying. That I could handle, that I could breathe through. But the bakery…The impending decisions…The future…Those still loomed. And I wasn’t ready to pretend they didn’t. When I finally opened my eyes, Oliver was watching me.
“I need a little space to think,” I whispered.
He nodded without hesitation. “Take whatever you need. I meant it, Bri. I’m not going anywhere today.” He paused, something firmer flickering beneath the gentleness. “And the flight tomorrow…” He shook his head. “That can wait. I’m not ready to leave. And I don’t enjoy being ordered around by anyone, family or not.”
And I believed him. Even if tomorrow remained uncertain.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Breakfast was quiet but not strained. We sat at Brianna’s small kitchen table, both of us nursing our mugs while the soft winter light crept through the window. She made eggs on toast; I chopped the fruit; neither of us talked about flights or the future.
We didn’t need to. Not yet.
Every now and then, our knees brushed under the table. Every now and then, her gaze flicked up and met mine, a fleeting spark of last night, of warmth and wanting before she looked away again, cheeks colouring faintly. When she finally stood to grab her coat for the bakery, I helped her pull it on without thinking. She stiffened for just a second, then relaxed, letting me smooth the collar down gently.
“I’ll see you later?” I asked.
She hesitated… but nodded. “Yeah. Later.”
I didn’t kiss her. I didn’t push. I just watched her walk downstairs toward the bakery, snow crunching under her boots, auburn hair catching the pale sunrise. And God help me… I wanted her in ways I hadn’t let myself want anything in years.
