Page 172 of The Cottage at Brambleton Hall

It seemed right – saying goodbye in the sunshine. They’d first met in the sun – back at that garden party – and they would part during this two-day heatwave; a hot plume of air circulating up from Spain.

Sammy stopped at his gate with the cushion tucked under her arm. She’d made it the night before. The stitching wasn’t perfect, but it would hold. The gate clicked shut and Nate immediately looked up from his book.

‘Hi.’

She held up the cushion. ‘For you.’

He took it, turning it once, his thumb brushing along a seam. ‘You made this.’

‘I did. I thought you might like a bit of creature comfort in that cell you call your cottage.’

He set it beside him, not making a show of it. ‘Come and sit down, I’ll go and get another chair.’

She did, the seat warm beneath her.

He slipped inside, returning with a second chair and glass, then poured a glass of wine for her.

For a while they sat without speaking. Sammy staring at the condensation on her glass.

A robin sang briefly from the hedge before falling silent. Further off, the hum of a machine in the orchard, harvesting the first cider apples.

Sammy steadied the glass against her knee. ‘I thought I could keep this goodbye simple,’ she said. ‘I can’t.’ She took a quick swallow of wine, as if it might brace her. ‘I love you . . . And I think you feel it too.’

Nate’s mouth had been on the cusp of a smile. It faded. His eyes dropped, then came back to her, sharper now, guarded. ‘You’re right,’ he said. His voice had lost its warmth. ‘But I know what that turns into.’ Sammy waited. ‘It starts like this,’ he said. ‘Simple. Then it becomes . . . expectations. Plans.’ He shook his head once. ‘I’m not doing that again.’

‘You don’t know what I want,’ she said.

He closed his eyes. ‘I know how it goes.’

‘No. You know how it went.’ She kept her voice steady. ‘You’re deciding how this ends before it’s even begun.’

‘I’m being careful.’

‘You’re not being careful.’ She shifted closer. ‘You’re controlling it.’

‘How?’

She set her glass down on the table beside his. ‘By deciding there’s only one way this ends.’

He opened his mouth, then stopped. The wind moved lightly through the leaves behind them. Nate looked down at his hands. ‘If I don’t . . .’

‘You are so determined not to let anyone take anything from you, you don’t give anything either.’

The quiet stretched between them. She sensed it then, clear and certain. She loved him. Just as he was.

‘I don’t know how to do this without it turning into that,’ he said.

‘I’m not asking you to know,’ she said. ‘I’m asking you to try this with me.’

Nate met her eyes. ‘I do want you,’ he said.

She held his gaze. Nothing had prepared her for hearing him say that.

On the day the owners returned, Brambleton Hall felt ready.

Windows were open, allowing the air to move. The scent of polish, and Sammy’s floral arrangements – the last yellow roses and the first chrysanthemums.

Coming out of the linen room with a stack of folded sheets in her arms, Sammy nearly bumped into Magnus with his pocket watch in his hands.