Page 46 of Crossed Paths
I don’t wait for a reply.
I turn and walk out, heart pounding, jaw tight.
And all I can think about as I push back into the corridor is Alex.
The silence from her this week. The unanswered texts. The space between us that I thought was just busyness—normal life.
She thinks I did this.
Of course she does.
She thinks I stood in her pub, kissed her like she was the only thing in the world, and then walked away and gutted her staff when she needed them most. And she hasn’t said a word because she’s too proud. Because she’s Alex. She just got on with it.
My stomach twists.
“Hunter,” Peter calls behind me, catching up fast. “What the hell are you doing?”
I ignore him for a beat and pull out my phone. Thumb scrolling, voice tight.
“Rupert,” I say when the call connects to my Operations Manager. “Silvia overstepped. I don’t have time to explain, but I want you to keep an eye on everything she’s touching this weekend. Staff, vendors, guest lists,everything. I’ll talk to you Monday.”
“Wait—what’s going on?” he tries to stop me but I’m already ending the call and turning to Peter.
“You want to know what I’m doing? Why the hell are you down here shouting at me instead of up at the pub helping your sister?” I snap.
Peter’s expression darkens, his jaw squaring as he steps in.
“I came to deal with you—”
“I get that,” I bite back. “But while you’re down here posturing like some big brother out of a soap opera, she’sprobably juggling the kitchen, the floor, the guest list, and God knows what else with a skeleton crew. Don’t you think she needs you more than she needs a dramatic showdown in front of the sodding Afternoon Tea crowd?”
His hands curl into fists, and for one stupid second, I think we’re actually going to come to blows.
But then I catch myself. The fire in my gut fizzles just long enough for my brain to catch up.
I drag in a breath. “I’m sorry. Fuck! I am sorry, Pete. I’m angry. Not at you. At myself.”
He looks at me warily. “So, what now?”
I meet his eyes, steady.
“We go,” I say.
Peter frowns. “Go where?”
“To the pub,” I say, already moving. “She’s holding the whole thing together on her own. The least we can do is show up.”
Peter grabs my arm, slowing me just enough.
“Not sure she wants to see you right now, mate,” he says, cautious. “Let me go first. I’ll smooth things over, explain it wasn’t you—”
“No,” I cut in, shaking my head. “Absolutely not.”
His brow furrows.
“This happened on my watch,” I say firmly. “Whether I knew about it or not. Silvia works for me. Tom’s wearing my uniform. That makes it my fault.”
I meet his eyes dead-on.
