Page 265 of Delicious

I let out a dry laugh. “That’s rich, coming from you. Grandfather wanted him here.”

My father stands abruptly, his jaw tightening. “My father wasn’t in his right mind toward the end. He was sentimental. He made mistakes.”

I shake my head, anger rising. “No, he didn’t. He knew exactly what he was doing. You just hate that you can’t control it.”

Bertie clears his throat, stepping in before my father can respond. “Perhaps we should wait until the reading, shall we?”

The tension remains thick, but I don’t push further. Instead, I turn on my heel and leave the study. I need air. I need space. I step outside onto the stone terrace, breathing in the crisp Scottish air. The sky is turning grey, clouds rolling in over the hills. The scent of damp earth and the distant smell of pine settles around me, grounding me. Realising almost immediately I need to see Kelly and find out exactly what he thinks he's doing, bringing his new boyfriend here, I march across the stone, heading straight for the quad bike parked near the stables. My parents’ voices are still echoing in my head, but I don’t let them take root. I kick the engine into life, the familiar growl vibrating through my bones as I tear off through the estate. The wind whips against my face, cold and sharp, but I welcome it. As the fields blur past, I remember another ride, one from years ago.

My grandmother, Moira, had mounted one of the horses and taken off after my grandfather following an argument in which she had disagreed with him about the sale of a herd of Highland cows to a neighbouring competitor. She had used some quite fierce language when she had discovered he'd gone ahead with the sale against her wishes. She had not been privy to the fact that the family were on the brink of financial ruin, and that the income they would get from the herd would save their family's struggling business. With guilt in her mind, she had made his favourite dish, Rumbledethumps, as a peace offering, the way she always did when words weren’t enough. Later that evening, they had come back together, riding the same horse, my grandfather pressing a kiss to her temple as they entered the kitchen.

I remember sitting at the small wooden table as my grandfather ruffled my hair and said, “Get yourself someone who knows the small things about you as well as the big things. Your grandmother knows the way through to my heart is through my belly, and her Rumbledethumps is like Cupid’s arrow straight to my heart. I look at this dish, and I know that she loves me.”

I’d never forgotten those words.

The quad bike slows as I near the guest cottage. There’s warm light spilling from the windows, a stark contrast to the cold creeping into my bones. I kill the engine, swing my leg over the seat, and take a breath before knocking on the door. A very cute guy answers. He’s got sharp cheekbones, dark hair, and an easy smirk. My heart lurches, but I keep my face unreadable.

“Is he here?” I ask.

The guy glances back, then steps aside. “Yeah. Come in.”

I move past him, my pulse hammering in my ears. Kelly steps into the room, looking just as thrown as I feel. We stand there in awkward silence for a beat too long before Kelly clears his throat. “David… how have you been?”

I let out a sharp breath. “My grandfather died.”

He nods, his expression softening. “I know. I’m really sorry, David. I know how much he meant to you.”

I’m about to respond when something else spills from my mouth instead. “It’s only been a year. I guess it’s okay that you’ve moved on. But bringing your boyfriend here and flaunting him in my face? That’s not something I thought you’d do.”

Before Kelly can respond, the guy from earlier, Ashley, I think, pokes his head out from the kitchen. “Ewww, no thank you. We are not together. He could never get someone as hot as me.” He taps Kelly on the shoulder with an exaggerated grin. “Love you, babe, but you’re so not my type.”

Ashley waves before heading toward the door. “I’m going to explore for a bit. You two… work out whatever this is.”

Kelly exhales, running a hand through his hair. Then he steps back, holding the door open. “Come in.” I hesitate, but then I do. And just like that, we are alone.

ChapterFour

Kelly

The cottage is quiet after Ashley leaves, the warmth from the fire crackling in the background. I should feel uneasy having David here after so long, but I don’t. Not really. If I’m being honest with myself, and that’s something I don’t like to do often, I’m more than a little pleased at how jealous he was at the thought of me with someone else.

David McCraig has always been a master at keeping his emotions locked up tight, his face unreadable. But tonight, when he thought Ashley was my boyfriend, it had been written all over his face. The tensed jaw, the clipped words, the way his fingers curled into fists before he could stop himself. I’d seen him like that only a few times before. One of the occasions was in a bakery in London when he had gone to the counter to order me a poppyseed muffin, and a rather attractive man had sidled over to me and asked me for my number. I’d politely declined his request and pointed towards my husband at the counter whose face was like thunder, shooting daggers out of his eyes at the muscled Adonis. If nothing else, it’s proof that I’m not the only one still haunted by the past.

I clear my throat and move toward the kitchen. “I’ll make us both some tea, shall I?”

David doesn’t protest, so I take that as agreement. I retrieve a metal teapot from the cabinet and place it on a floral tray with a silver pot containing sugar with an intricately designed spoon and a small jug of milk. I collect two cups from the neighbouring cabinet which completes the tray. As the kettle hums, I take a steadying breath, trying to collect myself. It’s been over a year since I last saw him, and yet, sitting across from him now, it feels as if no time has passed at all. Which is ridiculous. Timehaspassed. We are no longer the people we were. And yet, here he is. And here I am, making him tea, like this is just another quiet night between us.

I bring the tray into the lounge, setting it down on the wooden coffee table. The fire bathes the room in a golden glow, the shadows flickering along the stone walls. I press play on my phone, and the familiar strum of an old folk song fills the space. Something soft, something easy. We need easy right now.

David takes the tea with a quiet nod, settling back into the armchair across from me. We sit in silence for a moment, the tension from earlier still lingering, but not as sharp.

"So, what do you do these days?" he asks, finally breaking the silence.

I take a sip of my tea before answering. "Mostly large animal vet work. A lot of farm visits, emergency call-outs. It’s not glamorous, but I love it."

He nods, as if he'd expected that. "Still in Yorkshire?"

"Yeah. Filey’s still home," I say, then add with a smirk, "though you wouldn’t last a week there."

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