Chapter 14
Emma
It’s difficult to wipe the smile off my face. I keep trying to look normal, but apparently I’m failing spectacularly.
“I love you and I’m very happy for you,” Christina says as we demolish our sandwiches in the back room, “but you need to tone that lovey-dovey smirk down. You’re making me jealous.
I need some action of my own.” She waves her crisps like a warning flag.
“I think it’s time to escalate my Bambi campaign. ”
I choke on my water. “Please don’t. He already hides behind the begonias when he sees you coming.”
“I’ll wear him down,” she says confidently. “Wait and see.”
The bell rings and she heads out to help two women fussing over potted lavender. I glance at the clock, still smiling like an idiot. Maybe fresh air will calm me down.
“Shall I grab some éclairs from Cherry Pie?” I ask, leaning through the doorway. “Give your retinas a break from my face.”
“Yes please,” she calls back. “Get the big caramel one. The indecently gooey one.”
I grab coins from the tip jar and step into the crisp afternoon.
The sky is a bright, summer blue. Even the pavement seems to have forgiven the usual Lake District rain.
The walk up the hill is short, and the thought of seeing Alex’s name pop up on my phone later sends my stomach into soft, ridiculous flips.
Or maybe he will pop over for a little repeat of last night?
The queue at the bakery spills onto the pavement. I join the end behind a couple in hiking gear, probably tourists. I’m just fishing my phone out to text Alex when a sharp snippet of conversation snaps my attention forward.
“Yes, I heard the rumours about Alex,” a woman two places ahead says, her voice pitched just loud enough to carry.
My whole body goes still.
“I mean, honestly, why’s he dating her?” she continues. “She’s so not his type. Do you remember his last girlfriend? The one from Kendal? Stunning.”
Her friend laughs, delighted. Something cold slides down my spine.
I duck slightly behind the tourists, pulse thudding in my ears.
“Veronica said she saw them at that new Arabic place,” the first woman goes on. “Apparently she ordered a whole table’s worth of food.”
Her friend snorts. “Well, she doesn’t need any extra, does she?”
They dissolve into giggles. A heat crawls across my chest and up my throat. I tug the hem of my top down, irrationally convinced they can see every inch of me they’re mocking.
“Honestly,” the woman says, lowering her voice, “either he’s on some sort of dare or he hit his head on a crag. She’s just… not right for him.”
The words hit like a clean punch to the ribs. My heart scrambles to hang on to the memory of last night. The way he looked at me. The softness in his voice. The way he made me feel chosen, for once.
But my mother’s voice slides in behind the women’s like it’s been waiting its moment.
No man wants to settle down with someone of your size. Don’t build illusions you can’t live in.
My stomach twists sharply. The tiny, brave part of me Alex keeps waking tries to speak up, but the doubt swallowing its edges is louder today. I can’t stand there a second longer.
I slip out of the queue and head back down the hill. The sunny street feels too bright, too exposed, like everyone can see the sudden crack running through me.
Christina looks up the moment I step inside the shop. Her expression shifts from curious to alarmed in half a second.
“What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I try to smile but my cheeks barely cooperate. “All fine. They’d run out of éclairs.”
She gives me a flat stare. “That is not a face people make about pastry.”
“I’m just tired,” I insist. “Would you mind if I take the afternoon off? Yesterday was… a lot. In a good way. I just need some air. A walk.”
Her worry sharpens, but I hold her gaze steadily, constructing the most plausible version of calm I can muster.
“Are you sure?” she asks gently.
“Yes. Honestly. I just need a reset.”
She hesitates, clearly unconvinced, but nods. “Go on, then. I’ve got things covered.”
“Thanks,” I say, already stepping back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I grab my bag and leave before she can ask any more questions.
As soon as the door closes behind me, the mask slips.
Inside, the battle is already raging: Alex’s kindness and certainty on one side, my mother’s words and the women’s laughter on the other.
I want to believe him. I want to hold on to the warmth he put in my chest. But the doubt is quick, practiced, and knows exactly where to strike.
Still… there’s a flicker. A stubborn little spark refusing to die.
I slip into my hiking boots the second I’m home.
No sitting. No thinking. Moving feels easier than letting the noise in my head win, so I lace up quickly and head straight for the little overlook above the village.
It’s technically the very start of the Ambleside Horseshoe, but really it’s just the low rise where locals eat sandwiches, sulk, or have a cry when life gets too loud.
Safe ground. Familiar ground. Today it feels like the only place I won’t completely unravel.
The incline hits straight away. Fellside doesn’t bother warming you up; you walk twenty steps and suddenly you’re climbing to Mordor. Within minutes I’m sweating, my breath coming shorter than I’d like, and my thighs are already complaining. Brilliant. Emotional turmoil with bonus cardio.
I keep going.
My thoughts chase me as the path steepens. Those women from the bakery have built themselves a cosy little home inside my skull, replaying their smug laughter over and over. But there’s that spark inside me too. Small. Stubborn. Refusing to lie down.
Alex showed up at the shop because he wanted to see me.
Alex asked me out again before I could talk myself into believing he didn’t mean it.
Alex built shelves because I mentioned a dream for the shop.
Alex kissed me under the stars. Slow. Careful.
Like I mattered. Like he wanted me. Not a consolation prize. Not a joke. Me.
I huff as loose gravel skitters under my boots. “That’s at least six solid points,” I mutter to myself. “Maybe seven.”
My brain fires back anyway. He’s handsome. Confident. Loved around here. You’re… you. Mum said so. Those women said so. Guys like him wake up one morning and realise they can do better.
I stop and rest my hands on my knees, partly because my lungs feel like they’re on fire, partly because that last thought hits far too close to home. My cheeks are burning and not just from the climb.
“This is ridiculous,” I tell the hillside. “He planned an entire date just to make me happy.”
I straighten and walk again, pushing my legs up the slope even though they complain bitterly. The village shrinks behind me, the rooftops dipping into soft greens and stone greys. The air tastes cleaner up here. It helps. A little.
Right. Pros list. He listens. Properly listens.
He looks at me like I’m something worth looking at.
He remembers details. He notices things without making a fuss.
He made me feel safe enough to kiss him back.
Safe enough to let go in a way I never have with anyone.
He didn’t flinch at my body. He wanted me. All of me. No hesitation.
The cons list tries to drag me back. People talk. They always have. Men change. Mum’s voice slithers through my memory, telling me that men like Alex don’t marry women my size. That I should be grateful for scraps. That people like me shouldn’t reach too high because the fall hurts more.
I stop again and shut my eyes. The breeze brushes over my face, cool and steady, and I let myself breathe.
“No,” I say quietly, surprising myself. “Not this time.”
I start walking again, slower but steadier.
My boots scuff over the uneven ground, and the sky stretches wide above me.
I’m still tired. Still conflicted. And still carrying all the things people have drilled into me for years.
But something inside me is pushing back.
Not loud, not confident, but present. Growing.
Alex makes me feel seen. Properly seen. And I’m not ready to throw that away because two bored women in a bakery needed entertainment.
It takes a moment for the unease to register. I slow down, turn a small circle, and feel my stomach drop through the floor. I’m much higher than I meant to be. The little overlook should be somewhere behind me, but nothing looks familiar. I can’t see the path. At all.
“Brilliant,” I mutter, a cold ripple sliding down my spine.
I look uphill. The ridge ahead is half hidden behind dark clouds rolling in quicker than seems reasonable. The wind pushes at my clothes, nudging me sideways, and for the first time today I feel properly unsettled.
Fine. Turn around. Go back down.
Except… when I do, my breath catches. The slope is far steeper than I realised.
What felt like a a harmless climb now looks like a mistake waiting to happen.
I scan the hillside desperately for any hint of a path, but all I see is rough grass, scattered rocks and a drop I really don’t fancy testing.
“Okay. Stay calm,” I whisper to myself, even though the wobble in my voice gives me away.
I try one slow step downward. Gravel shifts beneath my boot, sliding downwards. My legs lock instantly. Another step. Worse. Every inch of my body feels exposed, as if the wind could shove me off balance with the slightest move.
I try to breathe through it. Look for landmarks. Anything. But the cloud keeps sinking, swallowing the hillside until everything looks like smudged charcoal shapes.
“I shouldn’t have come this far,” I say through clenched teeth, heart thudding hard enough that I feel it in my palms.
I angle sideways, hoping for a kinder line. The ground only gets rougher. A rock shifts under my foot and a sharp spike of panic shoots up my spine. Instinct takes over and I drop into a crouch, fingers digging into the damp grass as if the earth might steady me.
I don’t know where I am.
And I can’t see a path back.
The cloud sweeps in fully, thick and cold against my face. Visibility plummets. My breath turns shaky. The hillside vanishes into grey.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Today, life is trying to test me.