Page 148 of Rough Around the Hedges

He’d signed the contract, sold the land, and didn’t want me to know he’d done it. Did he think he could keep it a secret forever? Did he think I’d never find out? Or that maybe I’d only discover the truth when bulldozers rolled in to level the place?

Did it even matter?

I knew from the start. I knew he didn’t care, knew he wouldn’t change his mind, knew he had a whole life somewhere else that was a million miles away from Hanbury. No matter how many sweet words he whispered in my ears about there only being one world, that wasn’t true.

Maybe this was for the best. If the contract was signed and he was leaving like he was supposed to, then I wouldn’t have to end things with him. Our weird, undefined relationship would fizzle out like it’d never even existed at all, and we could both move on with our lives.

Well, he could.

I would always have a huge hole in mine.

I laughed to myself. I was such an idiot. I’d even said to Eleanor that one day I would be the one hurting, and here I was, hurting. I had nobody to blame but myself. For all my bravado and insistence that I’d end things with him, the truth was that I couldn’t.

Because I loved him.

Even now, as my heart was breaking and the dull ache in my stomach intensified, I loved him.

I loved him so very much that I couldn’t even bring myself to hate him even as he ripped away the place I adored.

That pissed me off the most. How could that be possible? How could I love him so much that I couldn’t even hate him? Even if I forced myself, I just couldn’t. The resentment I thought I would find deep within me was gone, completely dead and buried, as if it’d never even bloomed within me.

All there was, was his smile, his touch, his laugh, and that playful look he got in his blue eyes when he messed with me and said things he knew would rile me up.

It was the feeling I’d get when he’d swallow my anger with a kiss, giving way for a whole other wave of heat. It was those moments when we were alone in the cottage, hidden away from everyone else, pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist.

His tired mumbles.

His steady heartbeat.

His repetitive drawing of tiny circles on my side.

That momentary comfort of knowing he was there, that he wasn’t leaving, that I could finally let my guard down.

And Oliver… he’d ripped that all away with one stroke of his pen.

I should have confronted him. I should have stormed into his office and demanded to know what the hell he was doing, why he’d deal with the fallout later. I should have screamed at him that he was horrible, that I hated him. I should have insisted he tell me why he’d done and said all those sweet things with me if he was just going to tear my world apart anyway.

The Rose Matthews of three months ago would have.

But now, today, I was simply tired. Exhausted from a fight I was never destined to win. Shattered from having my heart broken beyond repair.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and called Isa. She answered on the second ring with a, “You? Calling me? Are you ill?”

“Mm,” I replied, trying to keep the sadness out of my tone. “Can you do me a favour?”

“That depends on how chaotic the favour is.”

“Can you cancel the meeting for me tonight?”

“Cancel it?” Her tone rose a few octaves. “What do you mean, cancel it?”

“The contract is signed.” My voice broke. “I overheard him in his office this morning. It’s done, Isa.”

The line crackled as she exhaled. “Oh, babe. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said thickly. “You aren’t the one who did this, are you?”

“I know, but I’m still sorry. You tried your best, Rose.”

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