13. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Jon
T he countryside stretches ahead, the golden fields and stone walls of Yorkshire bathed in the late morning light. The cottage is already miles behind me, but my thoughts linger there, caught between the warmth of the past few weeks and the ache of leaving. My hands tighten on the steering wheel, and I focus on the road winding through the familiar landscape.
The car’s Bluetooth chimes, cutting through the quiet hum of the engine. My mother’s name flashes on the screen, and I sigh, already bracing myself.
“Mum,” I answer.
“Jon!” she exclaims. “Finally! I was beginning to think you’d gone completely off the grid.”
“I told you I was taking a break,” I remind her. “Needed some time to myself.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” she says, brushing that aside as she always does. “And Tom mentioned you love that charming little B&B. What’s it called? Sunshine Cottage?”
“That’s the one,” I reply cautiously, already sensing where this is heading .
“Well,” she continues, far too breezy to be innocent, “Tom also said there’s someone there—Abigail, the owner. He said you seemed... quite taken with her.”
I let out a long breath, keeping my eyes fixed on the road. “Tom needs to mind his own business.”
“Jon, I’m your mother,” she says, and I can practically see her raising an eyebrow in mock disapproval. “I’m allowed to ask questions. So? What’s she like?”
“She’s... nice,” I say vaguely. “Good with guests, runs a tight ship.”
“Nice? A tight ship?” Mum scoffs. “Really, that’s the best you can do? Tom said she has a daughter. Layla, was it?”
“She does,” I admit. “She’s six, full of questions, and definitely not shy.”
“She sounds delightful,” Mum says, her tone softening. “And Abigail? Tell me the truth, Jon.”
I grip the steering wheel a little tighter, trying to find the right words. “She’s... warm. Kind. Funny.”
“And?” Mum presses, her voice dipping into that knowing tone that only mothers seem to master.
“She’s wonderful,” I admit before I can stop myself. “And I’m leaving.”
The admission settles heavy in the car, and Mum doesn’t let the silence last long.
“Are you leaving because you have to, or because you’re scared?” she asks, her voice calm but pointed. What kind of question is that?
“It’s complicated,” I reply, my tone clipped, hoping she’ll drop it.
“Jon,” she sighs, that exasperated mum tone coming through. “It’s not complicated. You live in London, yes, but you don’t have to. That’s just geography, and geography can change.”
I frown, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “Mum, I work in London. My job is there.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she tuts. “Paediatricians are needed everywhere. Settle has a small hospital. Leyburn, too. Both are close enough to commute from that little B&B.”
I blink, startled by her response. “You’ve been researching Yorkshire hospitals?”
“Of course,” she says matter-of-factly. “I knew you’d use your job as an excuse, and I wanted to be prepared.”
A short laugh escapes me, though I don’t want it to. “You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” she replies, unapologetic. “And don’t think I won’t call Settle General myself if you keep being stubborn.”
“Mum,” I say, shaking my head, though I can’t help but smirk. “It’s not that simple. Abby and I only met three weeks ago. There’s no question of me uprooting my entire life for something that’s... so new.”
“And why not?” she counters immediately. “What’s stopping you?”
“Because it’s insane,” I say, my voice rising slightly. “You don’t just meet someone and change everything overnight.”
“Of course you do!” she replies with determination. “When it’s right, it’s right. Love doesn’t follow a schedule. Your father and I were engaged three months after we met. ”
“That’s different,” I argue, though a part of me knows it isn’t. “You weren’t leaving your entire life behind for someone.”
“No,” she agrees. “But I would have, without a second thought. And that’s the difference, Jon. When it’s right, you know.”
Her words sit with me, weaving their way into the quiet corners of my mind. I’ve spent days trying to convince myself that Abby and Layla are just a pleasant detour, a temporary distraction. But what if Mum is right? What if they’re not a detour, what if they’re a destination I hadn’t known I was looking for.
“Mum, I have to go,” I say, my voice quieter now, more measured.
“Sure," she replies before adding, “Just think about it, Jon. That’s all I ask.”
“I will,” I promise, though my chest tightens at the weight of what that might mean.
“Drive safely, darling,” she says.
The call disconnects, and the car’s interior settles into silence once more. The road stretches ahead of me, but my thoughts linger on the place I’ve just left. On Abby. On Layla. On the way she filled the empty spaces in my life without me even realising they were there.
Maybe Mum’s right. Maybe it’s not about how long you’ve known someone. Maybe it’s about how much they make you feel.
I’ve fallen for her. For Abby. For her little corner of sunshine in the Yorkshire Dales.
The only question now is, what am I going to do about it ?
Before I can think any further, I tap the steering wheel, instructing my phone to call Sunshine Cottage. The line connects, and after a couple of rings, Abby’s voice comes through, bright and professional.
“Sunshine Cottage, this is Abigail speaking.”
I grin, picturing her perched at her little reception desk, probably with a pencil tucked behind her ear. “Good evening. I’m calling to inquire about room availability for this weekend,” I say, dropping my voice into a polite, guest-like tone.
There’s a pause, and I can almost hear her brain catching up to the sound of my voice. “Well,” she starts slowly, before her tone shifts into playfulness, “according to my records, Mr Peterson, you’ve only just left us. Did you forget something?”
“No,” I say, “but I’m already missing the place. And the people.”
Another brief pause, and then, in a tone that’s almost shy, she replies, “I see. That’s quite a compliment. Unfortunately, we’re fully booked this weekend... unless—” She hesitates, then continues with a teasing lilt, “you don’t mind sharing a room. In which case, I could potentially put you up in mine.”
I chuckle, the sound filling the car. “Tempting,” I admit. “Very tempting.”
Her laugh joins mine, soft and warm. But as the moment stretches, I feel a shift, the playful edge giving way to something more serious. “I actually wanted to tell you something,” I begin, sobering my tone.
“Alright,” she says cautiously, her laughter fading.
“I had a call with my mum just now,” I start, debating how much to share. “She was asking questions. About you. About Layla. About... everything, really.”
“Everything?” she echoes, her voice quieter now, the vulnerability in it tugging at me.
“Yeah. She thinks I should stop hiding from how I feel.” I pause, taking a breath. “And she’s right, Abby. These three weeks... they’ve been more than I expected. You’ve been more than I expected.”
“Jon,” she starts, but I cut in gently.
“Let me finish, please,” I say, soft but firmly. “I don’t know what the future looks like. I can’t promise anything long-term right now. But what I do know is that I don’t want this to end. Not yet. So, I was thinking... maybe I could start coming up north more often. Weekends, whenever I can get away. To see you. To see where this is going. What do you think?”
The silence stretches, and I hold my breath, waiting for her answer.
“I think...” she starts, “that you should know we’re not exactly an easy package, Jon. It’s me, it’s Layla, it’s the B&B, and everything that comes with it.”
“I know,” I say firmly. “I know what I’m signing up for.”
Her exhale is shaky, but there’s a smile in her voice when she finally replies. “In that case, Mr Peterson, I think weekends sound perfect.”
A weight I didn’t even realise I was carrying lifts from my chest, and I smile, letting her words settle in. “Good,” I smile, my voice quiet but full of meaning. “Good.”
“Drive safe. And call me when you get home, please,” she says softly, and I can picture her smile, the one that’s made me feel at home since the moment I walked into Sunshine Cottage.
“I will. Talk later, Abby.”
“Talk later,” she echoes, and the line goes dead.
This is a beginning, not an ending. And it’s all because of her. Because of Abby.