Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Breakfast was quiet but not strained. We sat at Brianna’s small kitchen table, both of us nursing our mugs while the soft winter light crept through the window. She made eggs on toast; I chopped the fruit; neither of us talked about flights or the future.
We didn’t need to. Not yet.
Every now and then, our knees brushed under the table.
Every now and then, her gaze flicked up and met mine, a fleeting spark of last night, of warmth and wanting before she looked away again, cheeks colouring faintly.
When she finally stood to grab her coat for the bakery, I helped her pull it on without thinking.
She stiffened for just a second, then relaxed, letting me smooth the collar down gently.
“I’ll see you later?” I asked.
She hesitated… but nodded. “Yeah. Later.”
I didn’t kiss her. I didn’t push. I just watched her walk downstairs toward the bakery, snow crunching under her boots, auburn hair catching the pale sunrise. And God help me… I wanted her in ways I hadn’t let myself want anything in years.
Back at the hotel, the hallway was blissfully empty.
No curious locals. No Mrs. Fraser waiting with a knowing smile.
Just the quiet creak of the old staircase and the smell of pine polish.
I changed into warmer clothes, a thick jumper, darker coat, scarf tucked neatly at my neck then picked up my phone before I could second-guess myself.
Claire answered on the second ring. “Oliver? I was just about to call you with your itinerary for—”
“Don’t book the flight,” I said gently.
A pause. “I… I’m sorry? Your flight for tomorrow morning?”
“Cancel it.”
“Sir, with respect, your family—”
“Let me deal with my family,” I said, softer this time. “I’m staying a little longer. There’s more here I need to sort out, and I’ll arrange my own flight when I’m ready.”
Claire wasn’t one to pry, but even she sounded hesitant. “Oliver… this is not like you.”
“I know.”
Another beat.
“All right,” she said finally. “I’ll cancel it. Just keep me posted on what you’d like to do next.”
“Thank you, I will be in touch.”
I barely had time to set the phone down before it buzzed again, this time with a name that made my jaw tighten. Mara. Of course. I braced myself and answered.
“Oliver,” she snapped before I could speak, “why on earth am I hearing from Claire that you’ve cancelled your flight? Mum is upset. Christmas is nearly here. You said you’d be back well over two weeks ago!”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Mara—”
“And the uncle Jeff is furious,” she continued, her voice lowering in that pointed way she used when she didn’t want Mum to overhear.
“He’s saying you’re dragging your feet. That you’re being emotional.
That Grandad’s…” Her voice softened. “That Grandad’s passing has clearly affected you more than you’re letting on. ”
Of course they’d blame sentimentality. Of course they wouldn’t understand.
“I’m not dragging my feet,” I said. “I’m making sure things are done properly.”
“You mean you’re not planning to sell.”
I didn’t respond.
“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” she whispered. “You’re thinking about keeping the properties.”
“I’m thinking,” I corrected, “about doing the right thing. For the people here. For Grandad. For myself.”
“That’s not what the family wants.”
“I don’t care what the uncles want. This is what Grandad wanted, what he put me in charge to do.”
The silence that followed was long and heavy. Finally, she sighed. A tired, worn sound.
“Mum just wants you home for Christmas.”
“I’ll be there,” I promised. “But not tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Just… don’t do anything stupid. You know how this family gets when money’s involved.”
“I know.”
We hung up, and I stood there for a long moment, staring at the old wallpaper pattern opposite my room, listening to the radiator hum.
The truth was simple: I wasn’t selling anything. Not the bakery. Not the cottages. Not the shop fronts. Pine Hollow wasn’t a ‘profitable asset.’ It was a community. A living one.
And Brianna… Brianna was its heartbeat.
The only challenge left was figuring out how to make this decision, my decision, stick.
How to protect her bakery. How to give people security for decades to come.
How to honour my grandfather properly. And somewhere under all of that…
How to keep whatever fragile, beautiful thing Brianna and I had begun from slipping through my fingers.
I wasn’t ready to leave. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not until this was done right.