Page 80 of The Clifftop Cottage

They sat at the table near the hearth, steam rising between them. Gabriel pulled a folded sheet from his jacket.

“My pal at the museum’s been digging,” he said. “Turns out there were whispers about Isobel long before the accusations. A child born out of wedlock. A lover who vanished once things got complicated.”

“They buried her story,” Erica murmured.

“Most of the stories were. But this one … I don’t know. It feels unfinished. Like she’s slipping through the cracks even now.”

“Or maybe because it’s familiar,” she said softly, before she could stop herself.

He looked at her properly then.

“What happened to the child?” she asked.

“No record.”

Of course.

Gabriel leaned forward. “Is everything okay, Erica? You seem … I don’t know. Like something’s slipping.”

She could have smiled. Lied. Reassured him.

Instead she said, “I’m not used to people showing up when things are messy.”

“Maybe that’s when it matters.”

Silence settled between them. Not heavy. Just close.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. Warm. Careful.

She leaned in first.

The kiss was soft, tentative. He deepened it slightly, his hand settling at the nape of her neck. There was warmth in it. Want, held carefully in check.

And then something inside her recoiled.

She pulled back.

“Wait.” Her voice trembled. “I thought I could. I wanted to. But this isn’t right. Not now.”

He stilled instantly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t⁠—”

“It’s not you.” She was already standing. “I can’t. I can’t do this.”

She winced the moment she'd said them.

He stepped back, colour rising faintly in his face. “Of course.”

She saw it then. The flicker of embarrassment. Hope folding in on itself.

“I shouldn’t have come,” he said quietly.

She said nothing.

He crossed to the door, slower this time, as if giving her space to stop him. His hand rested on the handle but he didn’t turn it straight away.

For a moment she thought she might speak. Apologise. Ask him to stay. Something hovered at the back of her throat – fragile, unformed.

She let it die there.