Page 263 of Delicious

“Shit, I am so sorry…” The voice had been deep, accented with the unmistakable refined lilt of Scottish nobility. I had looked up, heart hammering, to find a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark auburn hair and piercing blue eyes staring at me in horror.

David McCraig.

"It's honestly fine," I'd smiled with a sigh, wiping the cuff of my already ruined shirt across the front of my brand new textbook, wiping the remnants of my black coffee away from its front cover.

"I'll replace that, I swear," he'd said passionately, like some knight from an older time swearing a solemn vow. "Oh dear, look at your shirt! We should really get you out of that."

I'd choked back a laugh. "Normally I'd say you could at least offer to take me for a coffee first, but I'm afraid of getting even more soaked."

He'd blushed a deep scarlet red at his words and my following insinuations before clearing his throat. "Well yes, I would in fact…" he coughed some more, "like to take you… you know… out for tea?"

I'd looked at his handsome face, the nervousness etched on his features, and had known with a level of certainty that this man would spell disaster for me. By the end of that year, I had fallen hopelessly, irrevocably in love with him.

Ashley whistles low as we crest a hill, and the estate comes fully into view. “Holy shit,” he mutters. “This place is massive.” I nod but say nothing. Words won’t come. It’s been over a year since I last saw this house, and even longer since I felt like I belonged in it.

I'd overheard Carrick and Lucinda arguing with Liam in his study, their voices sharp and cutting. Carrick had demanded that Liam put a stop to my marriage with David. He had said that if David chose to stay with me, he would make sure his son never saw a penny of his inheritance. The tension had boiled over, the argument turning heated. And then, I'd heard a crash. I peered around the corner into the study and watched in horror. Liam had collapsed.

That night, I sat alone in our apartment, staring at the walls that had once felt like home. My thoughts raced, looping through every moment of the argument I had overheard. Carrick’s voice had been sharp, slicing through the air like a blade.

"David will never see a penny if he stays with him. You need to put an end to this, Father. You need to think about the family."

I had heard Liam stand his ground, his voice unwavering despite his age. "David is my grandson. You will not dictate who he loves." But the stress of the confrontation had been too much. The moment Liam clutched his chest, his face twisting in pain, everything else had ceased to matter. Carrick had called for an ambulance, Lucinda had gasped in horror, but all I could do was stand there, frozen, knowing that I had been the reason this had happened.

I should have told David. I should have explained everything. But the words wouldn't come.

Instead, I had sat there in our bedroom that night, listening to the steady rhythm of David’s breathing as he slept beside me, oblivious to the war raging inside my head. He hadn’t known that I had already made my decision. By morning, I had packed my bags. I'd stood by the door, watching him stir from sleep, his hair still mussed from the pillow, his eyes squinting against the morning light. He'd looked so soft in that moment, so completely unaware that his entire world was about to shatter.

"I can't do this anymore." The words had tasted like poison on my tongue.

David had sat up, confusion knitting his brows. "What?"

"Us. This. It’s not working." My voice had been steady, even as my heart cracked inside my chest.

He'd swung his legs over the bed, the drowsiness slipping away as something sharper took its place. "Where the hell is this coming from?"

I'd swallowed, my hands clenching into fists. "We were never going to work, David. Your family hates me. You keep pretending that doesn't matter, but it does. It always has."

His jaw had tightened. "That’s bullshit."

"Is it?" I'd forced a bitter laugh. "You think your father’s going to stop? He’s going to make your life hell, David. And what if he does cut you off? What if he follows through on everything he threatened? I won’t be the reason you lose all of this."

David had shot to his feet, anger radiating off him. "That’s not your decision to make."

"It is when I’m the reason you’re caught in the middle."

A thick silence had stretched between us. David’s gaze had searched mine, desperate for something, some crack in my resolve, some sign that I was lying.

I had never been a good liar, but for him, I'd forced myself to be.

"I’m leaving."

His throat had bobbed as he'd swallowed hard, his voice quieter when he finally spoke. "Do you still love me?"

For a single, devastating moment, I'd almost told the truth. Instead, I'd looked away. "No."

The silence that had followed was the worst kind, the kind where I'd known I had just broken something beyond repair. I had expected him to fight. To argue. To demand an explanation. But he hadn’t. He'd just stood there, staring at me, and I knew he'd believed me.

That had been the moment that hurt the most. I'd walked out before I could change my mind.

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