“Da, please don’t apologize.”
“I need to. I need you to know I’m ashamed of my behavior, and I would be honored . . .” His voice cracks, and my throat tightens. “I would be honored if you would make my urn.”
“Da . . .” Tears fill my eyes. “I can’t—”
“Do this for me, Rowan. Please. Make my urn. It would mean so much to me.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Please.”
Wiping a tear from my eye, I nod. “It would be my honor, Da.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
BONNIE
Cake slices consumed: One full Dundee cake, courtesy of Isla.
Tattie scones consumed: Two; one was burnt, courtesy of Dakota.
Cake batter consumed: At least one cup, courtesy of my fingers, which couldn’t stop scooping up gobs. Don’t worry, I used the batter for my own cake. Which brings me to . . .
Box cake consumed: A measly half of one, thanks to my dippy fingers.
All of the above is because I’m headed home without my best friend and with something new: a broken heart.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dakota asks as I wipe down the coffee shop counter, my flight back home tomorrow looming over me.
“No, but I think it’s what I have to do. I can’t stay here. Not now that Rowan’s back. It’s too painful.”
“But, Bonnie, don’t you see what you’ve done?” Dakota motions to the now-empty coffee shop that was bustling all day. “You made something of this place. You created an environment, not only for tourists but for the locals too. You saw Hamish and Alasdair—they were here for an hour, just talking and enjoying some tattie scones. You brought this place back to life.” Dakota shakes my shoulders. “You, Bonnie. You did that. No one else.”
“I had help,” I say, flushing as I allow myself a moment to feel proud of what I’ve created. I glance around the shop, my heart completely invested in these four walls.
Find yourself in Scotland.
I found myself . . . and so much more.
“You had help, but we just executed your vision. The success of the coffee shop rests in your hands. You’re just going to leave that?”
“Would you be able to stay here if Isla wasn’t talking to you?”
“I would at least try to talk to her before I left. Why don’t you talk to him?”
“And say what?” I toss my cleaning rag into the laundry basket we keep under the counter.
“That you’re sorry?”
“I’ve tried to do that. You should have seen the look on his face at the Mill Market. There was nothing there other than the desire to retreat as quickly as possible.” I work my way around the counter and start lifting the chairs off the floor and onto the tables. “I can’t stay here.”
“So you’re going to go back home . . . to your parents?” Dakota follows closely behind me but doesn’t help.
“Yup, can’t wait to hear them tell me ‘I told you so’ multiple times, every day, until they die.”
“Bonnie, there has to be something we can do. Maybe you can find another town out here.”
“And what? Work? Pretty sure I need some kind of work visa for that, and I don’t think they’re going to provide one to someone who just came from working at a coffee shop. Face it, Dakota, I’m bound for California, and there is nothing you can do.”
I’ve finished up with the chairs and have started to move toward the counter when Dakota stops me.
“I’ll come with you, and we can figure something out.”
“We’ve been over this. You are not coming with me, not when you have Isla here.”
“You can’t go back to your parents—you’ll be miserable.”
“Not as miserable as I would be staying here and seeing Rowan all the time, working for his mom.”
Dakota looks off to the side. “But you love working here.”
I walk back over to the counter, where I hoist myself up and scan the space one more time. Regret fills me. I don’t want to leave this, not even a little, not when I feel like I’ve found my purpose, what I’m good at. “Yeah, I know. Today was so amazing with all the tour buses pouring in. I can’t believe we sold out by noon. Just the kind of send-off I needed.”
Dakota is silent for a second, and then she turns to me, a serious expression on her face. “What am I going to do without you, Bonnie? I can barely keep it together around Isla. I need you here.”
“You don’t need me. You’re so much stronger than you think you are, and when you do feel weak, Isla is there to build you up. I don’t think I could have picked someone better for you. She’s perfect, and when you two get married one day—because I know it’s going to happen—and you’re standing hand in hand, both of you wearing beautiful white dresses that blow in the breeze, I’ll remember the day you showed me the ad for two coffee shop employees and know it was the best decision we ever made.”