I’m truly . . . sad. And I don’t think it’s because he didn’t show up today. I don’t think it’s because he’s not calling.
I think it’s because I accomplished something. I proved my worth, I created a vibe, I brought something to life, and the one person I wanted to share this with won’t return my phone calls and my texts, and it’s all my fault.
I think it’s because for the first time in my life, I fell in love, and the man I’ve fallen in love with doesn’t love me back.
And that’s more painful than anything.
I bite my bottom lip as I trudge through town, the magic of the stone-paved road losing a bit of its luster. Everything seems to have dulled around me, and I know it’s because I love Rowan. I love him so much, and if he doesn’t love me back, then how on earth am I supposed to stay here, in the smallest town I’ve ever visited, and act like everything is normal?
Surprisingly, I didn’t fail when it came to my job this time—I thrived.
But failure still rests heavy on my heart.
The snap of a twig pulls my attention from the ground to a dark figure passing by.
Wait.
Is that . . .
Is that Rowan?
He’s home? And he didn’t let me know?
I quickly hop around the corner of the Mill Market and poke my head around, eyes trained on him as my heart tumbles into a pit of despair. I can’t believe he wouldn’t tell me he’s here. Then again, it’s really all my fault. I pushed him and pushed him and drove him away.
As he steps inside the pub, I consider going back to the cottage but realize I’ll just cry to myself in my bed, so I opt for the coffee shop. As I approach, I have to blink a few more times. Finella is standing at the open doorway. She looks stunned, with her hands to her heart and mouth agape. Another twig snaps, this time under my foot, and she jumps, her eyes connecting with mine.
Oh God.
She’s home early.
I wasn’t prepared for her return.
Does she hate what we’ve done?
I haven’t had a chance to prepare her.
I clear my throat. “Finella, you’re back from vacation. I thought you’d be gone for six months.”
“That was the plan, but Stuart wanted to come back.”
“Oh.” I twist my hands together.
She turns toward the coffee shop and then looks back at me. I gulp, wondering if she likes the changes or if she wishes she’d never brought Dakota and me into the mix.
“Shona told me you’ve been working hard, Bonnie, but I never expected to come back to this.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “This is more than working hard—this is a complete transformation.”
“Do you . . . do you like it?” I ask, my heart hammering for so many reasons at this point.
“I love it.”
Relief washes over me as she steps closer and pulls me into a hug.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
It’s my undoing. I wrap my arms around her and sob onto her shoulder.
Rowan.
Home.
His complete and total silence.
Feeling like I no longer belong.
Experiencing success, but having it overshadowed by my own faults.
It all crashes together. She holds me tightly, and her embrace feels like a long-lost hug from my mom, something I haven’t received in too many years.
“Shh,” she says, stroking my hair. “’Tis okay, lass.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to gain control of my emotions but failing miserably. Pulling away, I wipe my face and take a deep breath. “Okay, sorry about that.”
Head tilted, she studies me. “About Rowan—”
I hold up my hand. “Please, Finella, I really don’t want to talk about it. How about I just show you around the coffee shop, get you familiar with everything? We’ve made quite a few changes.”
“All right, dear,” she says, resigned.
For the next half hour, I show Finella around the coffee shop, listening to her appreciation of the hairy coo pictures. She fawns over the new tables and enjoys every bite of the buttery I serve her. She’s grateful for everything I show her, even the small things, like the power-washed floors. And even though her excitement should be contagious, it’s not. All I feel is a sense of finality.
My job here is done.
Dakota is happy.
Finella is thrilled.
There’s nothing really keeping me here, especially if Rowan has moved on as well. There’s only one thing left for me to do, and that’s . . . call my parents.
It’s time to go home.