Chapter 21 Ashes in the Gingerbread Hearth #2
“There were certain memories attached to each of the desserts. They were about a woman named Isadora.” She tapped on the title page.
“The first one came with a happy memory, about her and her husband. But after that, they became progressively sadder and sadder, until the last memory was the saddest of all. She was left by her husband because they couldn’t have children together.
” A tear slipped from Eliza’s eye. “Isadora’s the reason this cottage is cursed.
She cursed it when he left. She even made Puffcake because of it, too.
She’s the reason we can’t leave here unless we’re together. ”
He grabbed Eliza’s hand from across the table. “I should personally thank her for her sorcery, then. It’s because of her that we were brought together.”
She bit her cheek, looking down at their conjoined hands.
The soft ticking of the grandfather clock was the only sound between them.
It reminded Eliza of one of the last memories in the cookbook, where Isadora was sitting all alone—in this very spot—with her palms buried in her face as she wept, the letter from her husband before her.
The feeling was so overwhelming, she had to look away. She felt sick to her stomach as she pulled her hand back.
His brows furrowed. “Eliza? Are you alright?”
“I guess I’m just trying to figure out what happens next,” she said carefully. “After tomorrow, when all the magic fades.”
“What do you mean?” He blinked.
She blew out a frustrated breath. “I mean, we’ve been living in a little enchanted bubble these past few days.
Baking, skating, sleigh rides, flour fights .
.. whatever this is,” she gestured between the two of them.
“But what happens when all this is over? What happens when we leave here and we drive our separate ways, leave these gingerbread walls behind?”
“We’ll visit each other,” he reassured her. There was so much confidence in his tone that Eliza almost believed him. He made it seem so easy.
“You live in another region, Lachlan,” she reminded him. “I’m in London. You’re in Littlehampton. You’ve got a career. I’m going to be building mine from scratch again, probably working insane hours just to make ends meet.”
Lachlan shrugged, like he already had it figured out. “Five and a half hours is nothing. I could even pick up homes in the London area, and I’ll help you out—”
“Yeah, and rely on you for funds? No thanks. I’m not asking for your help. Can you just cut the good guy act for two seconds?”
Lachlan looked taken aback. “You think I’m acting?”
Eliza met his eyes. “That isn’t what I meant—”
“No, I think that’s exactly what you meant.” He rose from the chair, running a hand through his hair.
“I just meant that—I just think you might decide you find a better offer somewhere else, and then you’ll be done with me. I’ll go back to trying to rebuild what I lost, and pretending that I’m okay.”
Lachlan went entirely still. Only his jaw popped in and out a few times before he spoke again. “You seriously think I would do that?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. After everything she’d recently been through, she’d just opened her heart again. She wouldn’t be able to stand it if Lachlan decided to walk away, too. She shrugged. “I barely know you.”
She saw the way the words landed, and she instantly regretted saying them.
She wished for a rewind button, one where she could take it all back.
What was she trying to do, exactly? Was she doing the classic “push him away to see if he’ll only lean in closer” tactic?
Because if so, she felt kind of pathetic in doing so. That doesn’t happen in real life.
But there he was, still there. Still leaning on the kitchen counter across from her, trying to listen. Looking incredibly wounded, but still listening.
Her phone buzzed on the island, and she picked it up to check it.
Laurie
Would you want aisle seating or window? Merry early Christmas ;)
Booked you a train back early tomorrow. You deserve to end your awkward gingerbread house sabbatical on a high note.
Eliza simply stared at the messages. She didn’t know a Laurie. And her phone case wasn’t black—it was pink. And it wasn’t her phone. It was Lachlan’s.
“When were you going to tell me you were leaving?” Her hands shook as she twisted the phone around for him to see. She could barely get the words out. Betrayal laced around her heart like cold winter air. It felt like it had sunk into her lungs and weighed her down.
“What?” He knitted his brows together.
She tapped on the message, lighting up the screen once more. “Your sister. She texted you. Booked you a train, apparently. For tomorrow morning. So you don’t have to stay.”
Lachlan reached for the phone, reading the texts off for himself. He looked genuinely caught off guard. “She mentioned that the day after I got here, but I didn’t think it was still a thing.”
Eliza searched his eyes for any clues that he may be lying, not ready to give in so easily. “But you didn’t tell her to cancel it earlier.”
“I–I didn’t think I needed to.” He held his hands up in defense. “She mentioned it the first day I came here, but I reassured her it would work itself out and we’d get settled in different cottages.”
“But when we didn’t, you decided to ask her to book the first train ride you could out of here?” she asked.
He ran his hands through his hair, taking in a deep breath, before shrugging. “No. It wasn’t a part of my agenda for my sister to book me anything.”
Eliza thought of Davis and all of his schemes.
His initial love bombing. She felt like she was being blindsided with the truth all over again.
For two years, everyone had seen his red flags but her, apparently.
She hadn’t noticed any with Lachlan, but what if that’s because she was purposefully choosing not to, the same way she once had?
She wanted to believe Lachlan, but she didn’t want to be played for a fool. Not again.
If it weren’t for the house keeping him here, maybe he would’ve left sooner.
It was her fault for thinking he wasn’t here just because he was being held here against his will.
It was her fault she assumed that he was actually growing to like her company and develop feelings, and not just convenient ones.
It was her fault she allowed him to get so close.
He was planning on leaving. He was always going to leave. Because he never had any real intentions of staying. Lachlan took a slow step toward her, like the floor was ice and at any second, he would hit a thin patch and fall into the freezing pond.
“Eliza.” He took another step forward. “I know you’ve been hurt before.
I know you’re pushing me away because this between us is all so new and honestly a little terrifying.
And yeah, that text from my sister certainly didn’t help.
But I—” He stopped just shy of touching her, dragging another hand through his hair in frustration.
“I care for you, Eliza. More than I expected to. Embarrassingly, more than I should after less than a week’s time.
And I don’t have any plans on disappearing.
You’ve taken me by complete surprise. You and your wonderful baking, and your brilliant heart.
I see a girl who’s been hurt and had her heart broken by a prick who wouldn’t step up and be the man she needed him to be.
But I stayed. I showed up. I helped. I believed in you even when you didn’t believe in yourself.
That’s what it would be like, even outside of here.
I wouldn’t give you a reason to doubt us.
But if you did, Eliza, I’d be here to remind you. ”
“I’m not asking you to fix me, Lachlan.” Her cheeks burned scarlet.
A lot of that just sounded like codependency.
She didn’t need to hop from one relationship to the next.
She needed to save herself from getting hurt again.
She needed to protect her own heart, not give it away to Lachlan for him to have the power to shatter.
“I’m not trying to fix you. This is me trying to be there for you.”
She stood, making her way over to the island, needing a second to cool down, to think clearly about what she wanted. What she actually wanted, and not what this stupid week-long retreat made her feel.
If she was being honest with herself, she wanted Lachlan. She wanted a shot at it with him. But things were never as simple as the magic let on.
She looked for Puffcake, missing his comforting warmth on her shoulder. He was nowhere to be seen, except for the tiniest sliver of his tail peeking out from underneath an upside-down mixing bowl. She couldn’t help but feel grateful that he was giving them at least a little privacy.
“That’s what scares me.”
“What scares you?” he asked.
“You say you don’t have any plans on leaving, and maybe you don’t. Not now, anyways. But what if one day you do? Maybe not next week, or even next year, but a couple from now. What if you realize I’m too complicated, too annoying, too much, or not enough?”
As if on cue, the front door popped open on an invisible flurry of wind. Snowflakes spiraled inside and melted on the warm cottage floor, even though the fire inside the hearth was dying.
A thump sounded on the sofa. Eliza looked over to see Lachlan’s bag and all of his things zipped up in his luggage. His eyes were wide, seemingly just as surprised as she was.
Because even the house knew. Lachlan wanted to leave. Why else would it be giving him an out?
Eliza looked at him, her eyes glistening. “That was not me,” Lachlan’s own eyes pleaded with her. They were so big and full, and like molten chocolate. She stared deeply into them. She wanted to believe him. She really did.
But that was the problem.
Even he was too good to be true. Too kind. Too handsome. Too good. Isadora believed she had a good thing until she was left alone with nothing but a note and an abandoned home the very next day.
Maybe Isadora hadn’t seen the signs, either, but they were there. But once she finally did, it had been too late. Ernest was already gone.
A happy ending wasn’t how this ended for Lachlan and her. The gingerbread house was cursed, after all. Maybe Isadora was right in trying to protect future women from the same fate.
“It’s been fun, Lachlan.” She breathed at last. “But even the house knows what’s for the best.”
“Eliza—” He started, but she backed away from him.
“Go.” She swallowed back the tears. “Please.”
She blinked, and a tear fell. Lachlan blew out a frustrated breath, but he didn’t object. Didn’t say a word. Just crossed the room to grab his things.
He stopped at the door and turned. One last chance for Eliza to take it all back if she wanted—and she almost did. The words were on the very edge of her lips, ready to slip by.
But he slipped through the door quicker than she could speak. The lock clicked into place; one final note, the ending to some old, sad song.
She heard the engine of his rented Land Rover flare to life, and the house didn’t protest as the wheels crunched through the freshly fallen snow and down the long driveway.
The record player scratched to life, the slow drawl of “I’ll be home for Christmas” piping from the disc.
The magic was still here. But Lachlan was gone.