Chapter 27
twenty-seven
LUCY
I’m in Knox’s loud kitchen, surrounded by people who love me. I’m here, but…not here.
Aidan said he’d call.
Not maybe. He said it like a promise, and stupid, hopeful me believed him. A full week of zero communication has settled in my stomach like a lead weight I can’t shake off, no matter how many times I try to tell myself I’m fine.
No call. No messages. Not even a simple “hey, talk soon” text. Just silence. Cold and loud and echoing in all the spaces he left behind.
I keep telling myself he’s busy. That it’s a rig, a godforsaken, floating tin can in the middle of the North Sea. Bad signal. Long shifts. Time slipping away easier out there. That’s all.
It doesn’t matter how hard I try to stay rational. The same dreaded thought keeps circling back.
What if he changed his mind?
What if all that tenderness, all that heat and honesty he poured into me that night, wasn’t what I thought it was? What if it was temporary? Convenient?
My stomach twists, that sour pit of doubt hollowing me out in quiet little bites. I hate how easily my mind goes there. How quickly I can go from trusting to spiraling. I don’t want to be that girl—the needy one, the overthinker, the one who’s too much. But I’m unraveling by the minute.
I pick up my phone again. No notifications. My fingers hover over his name, then retreat. What am I even supposed to say? Hey, just checking if you’ve ghosted me? Hope you’re well either way!
I shove my phone into the back pocket of my jeans with a frustrated huff. I’m being dramatic. Or…maybe I’m just scared. Because the truth is, I wanted this. Him. I let myself hope.
My skin prickles with awareness as I feel Callan’s gaze on me. His brow furrows and his lips twist downward as if he’s noticed something in me he doesn’t like. I try to smile, stretch my mouth into something close enough to pass for a grin, hoping he buys it.
He doesn’t.
My family’s everything to me, but I can’t handle any more teasing about my love life today.
I turn my focus back to pressing the dough into the tart pan, my fingers working mechanically, smoothing it down in practiced movements.
Normally, this is the part I look forward to—getting lost in the rhythm of baking and the way it calms me, with the kitchen filled with the comforting sounds of laughter and chatter in the next room.
But tonight, the dough is heavy, like a weight in my hands instead of something to shape.
Every press is a chore, and my mind spins in endless loops of thoughts I can’t seem to outrun.
I don’t even notice Bree until she’s right there, standing at my side. She leans against the counter, her blue eyes locked on me with that familiar intensity, piecing together the words I’m not saying.
“You know, Lou, if you keep frowning like that, your face might stay that way,” she teases.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I say with a dismissive wave. “It’s just…you know the cat I got? Marmalade? Total nightmare. Keeps knocking everything over in my flat at night. I haven’t slept properly in days.”
The lie tumbles out so easily I almost believe it myself, but instead of the expected chuckle, Bree steps closer, and her voice softens. “Hey, whatever’s going on, I’m here. So is Jules. You know that, right?”
I don’t have a lot of close friends. Bree and Juliette are really the only ones I trust to share what’s on my mind, to vent when it gets too heavy, or ask for advice when I’m unsure.
When I took over the café years ago, I threw myself into it and became the rock everyone else could lean on, the reliable hand in a world that felt like it was always spinning.
Somewhere along the way, I let my own support system slip through my fingers.
It felt easier to just take care of everyone else, to be the one with the answers, the one who always had it together.
Slowly, it became second nature to handle things on my own.
I take a breath and try to steady myself, not wanting to let the weight of it all spill out too quickly.
“I’m just…waiting,” I murmur, low enough that no one else can overhear.
“I’ve been seeing Aidan for the past few weeks.
He’s away at work, and he said he’d call, but it’s been a week. Not a word.”
The pressure in my chest builds again. I exhale, letting some of it go. “I feel like I’m stuck in limbo.” My voice cracks at the end, and I’m grateful it’s quiet enough that no one else can hear it.
Bree studies me with that knowing look people only earn the hard way. “You’re in deep, huh?”
“Mmhmm.” I focus back on the dough in my hands, my fingers pressing into it with more force than necessary.
She tilts her head. It’s her signature move right before she’s about to share some nugget of wisdom.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” she says, her voice dropping to a quieter, almost conspiratorial tone. “Men? They’re clueless sometimes. I mean, sure, they think they know what they’re doing, but half the time, they’re just not paying attention.”
I glance up at her, raising a brow, but she meets my gaze with that unshakable look of hers.
“Sometimes they need time to figure things out,” she continues.
“And sometimes they’re just not thinking at all.
You know, with everything going on in his world—his job, the stress, his daughter—he might not even realize that you’re sitting here, waiting for a call.
Or that you’re hurt because he hasn’t followed through like he said he would. ”
Her shoulders lift in a casual shrug, the motion somehow making it seem like maybe it’s not as complicated as I’m making it out to be.
I chew on her words, letting them settle slowly. I stare down at the tart I’m still trying to finish, my fingers still.
Bree doesn’t let the silence stretch too long. “Don’t be afraid to tell him what you want. Lay it out. Sometimes, it’s gotta be black and white, no gray area. Otherwise, you’re just setting yourself up for more of this…confusion.”
I nod. I’ve been so caught up in my own thoughts and fears that I haven’t considered the possibility that Aidan might be just as lost as I am.
“You’re right,” I say, looking over at her with a grateful smile. “I guess I’ve been expecting him to just…know.”
She grins, nudging my shoulder. “That’s your first mistake, Lou. Men aren’t exactly known for their psychic abilities.”
I can’t help but laugh, a weight lifting off my shoulders, the knot in my stomach loosening just a bit. “I guess I’ve been afraid of pushing too hard, you know? I don’t want to scare him off.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s affection in the gesture. “If he’s worth your time, he’ll listen. And if he doesn’t step up, well, there are plenty of other grumpy men on oil rigs.”
I laugh again, shaking my head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I actually like this one. Thank you, though,” I continue. “For talking through that with me.”
Bree snorts, crossing her arms and leaning back against the counter. “Girl, I’m going to be pissed if you keep holding stuff back like this. Juliette’s already going to be mad that we had no idea you were dating the guy.”
“Aye,” I laugh. “Noted.”
Her finger jabs the air in my direction. “And next time,” she continues, shaking her finger for emphasis, “don’t make me play referee, okay? You’ve got to give us more of a heads-up before you go all ‘silent sufferer’ mode.”
Just then, Knox pokes his head into the kitchen. “Hey, you two gossiping hens, are we eating tonight or what?”
“Keep your kilt on!” Bree quips, winking at me. “We’re almost done here.”
Just as I slide the tart into the oven, my phone buzzes in the back pocket of my jeans.
My fingers are suddenly useless as I fumble for it, nearly knocking the oven mitt to the floor in my scramble, but when I glance at the screen, my heart skips.
I look up, breath caught in my throat. Bree’s brows lift in question, but she reads the answer on my face before I say a word.
Her expression softens. She nudges the oven shut behind me and gives a little wave of her hand. “Go,” she mouths. “Take it.”
I dart into the hallway, heart kicking up as the kitchen noise fades behind me. Relief hits first, like I can finally breathe, but it tangles with a rush of nerves and a flicker of excitement that makes my steps too fast. I answer the second I’m out of earshot.
“Hello?” My voice comes out in a whisper.
There’s a beat of silence. A quiet exhale. Then, “Hey, Lucy.”
It’s only two words, but the sound of his voice knocks the air right out of me. Deep, rough, and achingly familiar. My eyes sting, stupidly, my body finally catching up to everything my heart’s been holding in.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Things got complicated out here. I didn’t mean to go quiet.”
I lean back against the wall, my free hand fidgeting with the hem of my shirt, the fabric twisting between my fingers. Bree’s words echo in my mind, urging me to be direct, to stop letting things fester in silence.
“I was worried,” I admit softly.
The silence on the other end drags. When he finally speaks, his voice is remorseful. “I should’ve called sooner.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “I just…I started to wonder if you’d changed your mind. If I’d made all of it up in my head.” My lungs squeeze, the words catching. “Mostly, I didn’t know if you were safe.”
“No, Lucy. God, no.” His response is immediate, adamant. “I’m okay, and you haven’t misread a thing.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Okay.”
“I’m so fucking bad at this,” he continues, the frustration in his tone clear now. “Especially when I’m out here. I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I didn’t mean to make you doubt that.”
I close my eyes, letting those words settle.
“I missed your voice,” I admit.
He groans. “Don’t say that unless you want me on the next damn chopper off this rig.”
A soft laugh escapes me. “I happen to know of two ladies who wouldn’t complain.”
“Don’t tempt me,” he grumbles, but there’s a hint of a smile in it now. “I’d jump into the North Sea if it got me home faster.”
I huff out a laugh, pressing my palm against my chest as if I can suppress the fluttering inside. We can joke all we want, but the fact is, we still have a lot of important stuff to talk about.
“Aidan?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m here.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, mulling over my words. “I don’t need constant texts or hour-long calls. I know you’re busy out there, but if we’re doing this—whatever this is—we need to talk when you get back. Like, really talk. About what we want, or if we’re even trying for something here.”
Wow. Go me. I actually said it.
Sure, I know I’m going to replay this conversation in my mind a thousand times and second-guess every word and every pause, wondering if I sounded too eager or too cold, too forward or not enough.
What I do know, though, is I can actually breathe without feeling like I’m suffocating on my own thoughts.
“Aye. You’re right,” he says, his voice low and earnest. “But Lucy? That night with you… It wasn’t nothing. And I’m so fucking sorry I made you feel like it was.”
Relief floods through me, easing the raw edges of my nerves.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d been holding on to until his words allowed me to exhale.
He’s not exactly the type to bare his feelings easily, so hearing him say that is a surprise in the best possible way.
My heart’s pounding so loudly in my chest, I swear it’s echoing down the hallway.
“Wow,” I say, blinking up at the ceiling like it might help hold back the sudden rush of tears. “Sounds like you might actually…miss me or something.”
There’s a pause, and then he groans. “Jesus, you’re gonna make me say it?”
A grin tugs at my lips. “Say what?”
“I miss you,” he mutters. “I’ve been missing you every damn day since I left.”
I bite down on my smile. “I’m glad you called. I needed to hear that.”
He pauses for a beat before he responds. “I’m glad you’re okay, Lucy.”
I feel so much lighter now. Then, a thought strikes me.
“You know, I’m always happy to take Isla for a little adventure while you’re gone,” I suggest. “Maybe go for a walk in the park or hit up the zoo. Give your mum a bit of a break.”
There’s a brief pause on the other end. “She’d love that,” he says. “And Mum, too. She’s been doing a lot. More than I probably realize.”
“Just say the word,” I tell him. “No pressure. I’ll make it something good.”
“I’ll message my mum tomorrow,” he says. “I should go. We’ve got a situation with one of the pumps that needs sorting.”
“Of course,” I say quickly. “Go. Be safe.”
“I will. And Lucy?”
“Hm?”
“I’ll call again. Soon. I promise.”
This time, I know he’ll be calling.