Page 22 of Love in the Air at The Cornish Bakery

‘Yes, it was. I’ve spent so long hating you for what I thought you’d done and...’

‘Thanks!’

‘No, you know what I mean. I thought you’d cheated on me, and it’s taken me to run into you again after all these years to begin facing the possibility that just maybe it was a bit of self-sabotage too.’

‘You were trying to protect yourself? I understand that. It must have been difficult with Samantha there telling you stuff, but I honestly did not send her any messages or go for dinner with her.’

Nina nodded. She believed him. Looking away, she focused on the orange flames of the fire and followed the dance of the flames. She’d wasted all of this time. She’d thrown a good relationship away. By trying to protect herself from lies, she’d shaped her future by listening to them.

‘Are you okay?’

Turning back to him, she grinned. ‘Just warm.’

‘I knew it wouldn’t take long to warm the place up.’ Rowan chuckled.

Pulling her jumper over her head, Nina smoothed down her hair and folded her jumper, laying it on the bar.

‘Ouch. What happened there?’ Rowan pointed to her arm.

Looking down, Nina sighed. How long would it take her to remember she had that scar? She closed her eyes before opening them again and focusing on a bottle of gin on a shelf on the wall behind the bar. ‘I had a run-in with a burglar.’

‘What?’

‘Just that. I woke up and realised I was being burgled. Got up to get out of the house and he ran into me, knocking me against that vase my gran kept in the hallway.’

Rowan rubbed the palm of his hand over his face. ‘I’m so sorry that happened to you. How long ago was it?’

‘A couple of months, which is another reason I’m here, to hopefully get a good night’s sleep.’ She laughed, the hollow tone sounding anything but joyful.

‘Oh, Nina. That’s awful. I wish I’d been there for you.’

‘What’s done is done.’ Or it would be if she could just stop reliving the incident every time she tried to fall asleep. She glanced across at him. He was still looking at her. ‘What?’

‘I was just thinking about how different our lives would be if we hadn’t broken up.’ He trailed his finger around the edge of her scar.

She grimaced. ‘We’ve spoken about that; the kids or the travelling.’

‘No, I mean really. I’ve missed you.’

‘Yeah right.’ She shifted on the bar stool.

‘Didn’t you miss me?’

She blinked. He knew the answer. From the way he was looking into her eyes, he knew the answer. ‘I...’

Moving his hand up to her face, he ran the pad of his index finger across her cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Covering his hand with hers, she lowered them to the bar, their fingers entwining. She’d missed his touch, the warmth of his skin against hers. He’d always been there for her, he’d always been her cheerleader. They’d been each other’s. The perfect relationship. Or it would have been if Nina hadn’t let her insecurities get the better of her. What had she done? She’d thrown away something so good. Tossed it aside on the say-so of another person. She covered his thumbnail with her finger, the jagged edge telling her he still chewed his nails. It wasn’t her fault. She knew that. Deep down, she knew that she couldn’t have helped the way she was feeling. Not back then. Since, she’d learned that not every relationship was the same as her parents. Since, she’d begun to trust her own instincts more, but back then, four years and three months ago...

‘What are you thinking?’

‘Just... I’m sorry I threw everything away. I really believed Samantha. I thought... I guess...’

‘You were protecting yourself. Anyone would have done the same given your past.’

Why did he have to be so understanding? Leaning forward, it was her turn to bring her hands to his face. She cupped his cheeks with her palms and leaned forward, pausing an inch away from him. Searching his eyes. Is this really wanted he wanted? Before she could question herself any further, he leaned in, closing the small gap between them. Closing her eyes, she focused on his lips against hers. It felt right. She felt at home again.

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