I feel my cheeks flush. There’s no use hiding it. “I think I do, Leith. I’ve never really loved someone before, not romantically, but with Rowan, it’s different. He challenges me, makes me happy, protects me—and, most importantly, he makes me feel special, like I actually have something to offer this world.”

  “That’s because you do.” He holds his hands out. “Look what you created. You are full of . . . potential—you just had to find where to funnel it.”

  I thank him but can’t help but wonder, What’s the point of creating something if I don’t have anyone to enjoy it with?

  Nerves eat away at me as I think about tomorrow, all the hard work I’ve put into the shop, and the possibility of it all failing. Of me failing once again.

  Dakota’s anger-flushed face flashes through my mind, followed by Rowan’s.

  Will they show up tomorrow?

  Despite our disagreements, will they still show up?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ROWAN

  Not doing it, not this fucking time.

  Don’t even ask.

  Not after everything that’s—

  Fucking fine . . .

  Anger level from 1 to 10, 10 being the highest: 123.

  There, happy?

  “Rowan, can I be honest with you?” Maw asks, setting a cup of tea next to me as I stare off at the red curtains decorated with gold damask. My parents’ rented London flat is certainly posh in comparison to their Corsekelly home.

  I’ve been here for the past two days, and Da has yet to speak to me. They went to an appointment yesterday, which I wasn’t allowed to attend, and came back looking more sullen than before. My easy guess: it wasn’t good news.

  “Oh, you want to be honest? That’s refreshing,” I deadpan.

  Maw sighs. “I suppose I deserve that.”

  I plow my hand through my hair, sticking it up on all ends. “What the hell were you thinking, not telling me?” I whisper-shout so Da can’t hear me. “I might not have the best relationship with Da, but that doesn’t give you two the right to keep me in the dark about his health.”

  “I understand.” Maw shifts uncomfortably. “You know I love you, Rowan, but I’ve spent the last few years of my life trying to mend the relationship between you and your father, attempting to be the peacemaker. I’m tired. I’m tired of the bickering, of seeing the two men left in my life go at each other every time they’re in the same room. It’s exhausting.” She wipes under her eye, and my heart lurches. I hate seeing my maw this distraught. “I know you want to be here, but I don’t think I can handle any more rows. It might be best if you leave.”

  “Leave? You really think I’m going to leave? When I just found out my da’s dying? I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Rowan, he doesn’t want you here. It might put more stress on him.”

  “Well, that’s too fucking bad.”

  My phone buzzes on the table, and before I can hide the name on the screen, Maw catches it.

  “Is that Bonnie?”

  “Seems so.” I stuff the phone in my pocket.

  “You know, Shona was telling me you two are an item.”

  “Shona needs to learn to mind her own business.”

  “Did something happen?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” I stand from my chair and pace the living room. “What did the doctor say yesterday?”

  “Rowan, the last thing I want to focus on right now is your father’s health; I want to forget—”

  “You can’t forget it, Maw. Just like you can’t forget about the fact that Callum died. Or that the coffee shop is dying, or that you’re spending your savings living here. You can’t just brush your problems under the rug, hoping they’ll disappear. This is life, and you have to face it. You have to deal with it, whether you want to or not. That’s why I’m here. Even though you neglected to tell me anything until a few days ago, I’m here because you are my family, what’s left of it, and I’ll be damned if I’m left out. I don’t want to be the goddamn black sheep anymore.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have wanted to leave this family years ago.” Da’s weak voice cuts through the living room. He shuffles in, using a cane, his body deteriorating faster than I ever expected. Maw quickly goes to him and helps him into a chair.

  She strokes his cheek lovingly, pain evident in her eyes. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Water, darling.”

  Maw goes to get it, but I stop her and nod toward the chair next to Da and get the water myself. The air needs to be cleared. We can’t go on like this anymore. It’s not only hurting my relationship with Da, but it’s hurting Maw too. And I’m seeing it. The exhaustion in her eyes, the weariness in her voice. Her husband is sick, and that’s enough to worry about.

  Fuck, am I really going to do this?

  I glance over my shoulder to where my parents sit, holding hands.

  A loving couple I grew up watching, admiring. There’s a light smile on my da’s lips as he looks at Maw. I remember when he used to smile at me. Those days spent in the kitchen, when he was proud of what I could do once he’d taught me the MacGregor way.

  Where did that all go?

  And why the hell has it been gone for so long?

  Time to find out.

  I bring two glasses of water over for my parents and set them down on the side table between them.

  Once they’ve both taken a sip, I clear my throat. “I never wanted to leave the family. I wanted a chance to explore, the chance to create something of my own, like you created with the coffee shop.” I look my da in the eyes. “It was never about the family, Da. It was about me trying to prove my worth.”

  “Your worth was with this family, with Corsekelly. But we weren’t good enough for you.”

  “I wasn’t good enough for you,” I admit, slapping my hand to my chest. “I wasn’t good enough for the town. Everyone had something. Callum was the baker—he took after you, Da. Leith and Lachlan were bound and determined to make something of themselves with personal training, and they have. Isla has built the bakeshop to a huge success, winning awards all over the country. My friends and family were all doing something, and I wanted to do the same. I wanted something of my own, something to make you proud.” I grip my forehead, trying not to get emotional over all this. “All I ever wanted was for you to look at me and my gift the way you looked at Callum, with unconditional pride and love.”

  He tosses his arm up in the air. “Of course I love you.” He looks away, dismissing the proclamation as quickly as he made it.

  “Do you?” I ask, walking up to him and squatting in front of him. “Do you really love me? Or do you still blame me for Callum dying?”

  He looks down at his lap, and his shoulders sag, as if the question has completely defeated him.

  “I’m angry about Callum dying.” He looks up and meets my gaze. “I could have lost both of you that day.”

  I lean back, blinking as I catch the tears brimming in his eyes.

  “Every time I think about it, I get furious.” His fist tightens, and he tenses before falling into a coughing fit. Maw places her hand on his back and offers him his water. He takes a few sips and then meets my eyes again. “His death could have been avoided if you’d used your goddamn brains. If it were you who were dead and Callum who was alive, I would have treated him the same way. The choices you two made together just about wrecked your mother. You put a hole in my heart, and then filled it with worry. Worry that instead of losing one son, I could have lost two.” He pinches his brow and slowly rests his head against the chair.

  “Da, I . . . I had no idea. I thought—”

  “I know what you thought. And it might have been my fault for never correcting your way of thinking, but goddamn it, I’m still furious about it. And I’ll be furious until the day I die. Careless behavior with no thought for the people who love you.”

  “Da.” I reach up and slip my hand in his. He squeezes it tightly and, to my surprise, brings it to his mouth, kissing the back of my knuckles and then holding them close to his cheek.

  He lets out a strangled sob, and that’s all it takes. I break down as well, moving as close to him as I can.

  “I could have lost both of you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, bringing my forehead to his. I grip the nape of his neck and hold him there, not wanting to let go, not ever wanting to let go. “I’m so sorry, Da.”

  “I love you, Rowan.”

  I let out a sob, and tears stream down my cheeks. “I love you too, Da.”

  “Here, Da.” I place a bowl of soup in front of him and adjust the cardigan across his back, noticing how I can feel every bone in his shoulders. “Do you have everything you need, Maw?”

  She nods quietly and sips from her bowl of soup.

  Once they’re taken care of, I take a seat as well, and quietly we all tuck in. Together.

  The last few hours have been mentally exhausting. We cried for a good hour.

  Cried over the loss of time.

  The loss of Callum.

  The loss of a relationship with my da.

  The loss of those little, boring moments that make up a life.

  The end is near. It’s thick in the air, chilling and heartbreaking.

  Clearing my throat, I ask, “How much time is left?”

  Da doesn’t look up at me, and neither does Maw. Instead they keep their eyes on their bowls, but I watch as my da slowly reaches over and takes Maw’s hand in his. Her lip quivers, and a tear falls into her soup bowl.

  “It’s not good,” Da says.

  “I want to know. Don’t hide it from me. Please don’t hide it from me anymore.”

  Da slowly nods and looks me in the eyes. “It’s stage-four chondrosarcoma. There’s nothing they can do at this point. They offered a treatment plan to prolong life expectancy.”

  “Then let’s do that,” I say quickly. “What does it entail?”

  Da shakes his head. “It’s no way to live, son. I would have to stay here in London, it would cost more than I’m willing to pay, and I would be miserable—for what? A few more months?”

  “Yes,” I say, my voice panicky. “Yes, Da, a few more months. Months I haven’t had with you. Months I need with you.”

  His weathered eyes connect with mine. “Rowan, I don’t want to be in London. I want to be in Corsekelly, in my home, with the ones I love. And you can’t stay here either. The town needs you. Your maw needs the town for support.”

  “But . . . but what about the time we’ve lost? What about—?”

  “Whatever time I have left is yours, Rowan.”

  “How much time?” I ask, voice wavering, my throat tightening.

  He closes his eyes. “A month . . . maybe.”

  “A month?” I nearly choke on my words. “How long if you do the treatment?”

  “Three, maybe. But it’s not a promise, and I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my days in and out of hospital, being pumped with chemo. I’d rather spend it in the place I love, with the people I love.”

  I lean my forehead into my hand and blink back the fresh tears that threaten to fall. How can I possibly lose him? How can I ever forgive myself for letting this feud go on for so long? For never talking to him and letting years of stubbornness and pride fester between us?

  “Rowan.” I look up at him. “It’s going to be okay, lad. The life I’ve had has been beautiful. I’m a blessed man, and even though our time is short, I plan on making the most of it.” He reaches for my hand. “Take me back to Corsekelly. Please.”

  For the second time today, tears streak down my cheeks as I nod. At this point, there is nothing else I can do besides soak in the moments I have left with him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  BONNIE

  Broken heart: One . . . still.

  Times I’ve thrown up from nerves: Three.

  Texts and calls that have been returned: None.

  Amount of cake eaten to mask my feelings: Let’s just say I’ve had to make a lot of cherry cake this week.

  Today is the big day, and I’m not sure if I want to cry, smile, or go throw up again.

  Deep breaths.

  In through the nose, out through the mouth.

  Everything is going to be okay.

  In one two three, out one two three.

  Tamping down the threatening nausea, I glance around the coffee shop one last time. One minute to open, and I don’t feel ready—despite burying my head in work the last few days.

  I’ve baked, practiced drinks, perfected every last detail when it comes to the shop, and made sure to collect pamphlets from everyone around town so I can promote all the special points of Corsekelly to tourists. Even with all that, I don’t feel ready, and I think I know why: I don’t have my two rocks next to me.

  I haven’t heard anything from Rowan or Dakota, and it’s slowly eating away at me. My only hope is that they show up today and let me apologize profusely in person, which will lead to us hugging it out and everything going back to normal.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I quickly pull it out to see the alarm I set for myself. Opening day.

  With one more deep breath, I go to the front door, reach out my shaky hand, and open it. Expecting to see a few smiling faces, I put on a smile myself and step outside, where I’m greeted by . . . no one.

  My smile fades, and my heart sinks. I glance around and look down the street, off toward the Hairy Coo Footpath, but . . . nothing. Not one soul.

  Not one friend.

  Not one boyfriend.

  Absolutely no one.

  Trying not to get upset—I just opened, after all—I place the OPEN flag in its holster, prop the door open completely, and then step back into the coffee shop, where I try to busy myself.

  I move around the counter, straightening mugs for the tenth time this morning. Then I check to make sure everything is stocked up, confirm that there are plenty of butteries, scones, and cake in the pastry case. I tuck in the napkins to be sure they’re not crooked. All set, just like it was a half hour ago.

  Tables are clean.

  Vases have fresh flowers.

  Drinks are ready to be made.

  There’s nothing else I can do.

  I glance down at my phone. Ten thirty.

  My heart sinks.

  I can’t believe that not one person has shown up. But, most importantly, I can’t believe Rowan and Dakota aren’t here. Did I hurt them so badly that they won’t be here for me? Are they so angry they refuse to come support me?

  Dakota and I have fought before, but never at this level. She knows how hard I’ve been working. She knows how important this is to me. Is she really not going to show up?

  Feeling distraught, I sit down in the chair behind the counter and bounce my legs up and down.

  Please don’t fail.

  Please don’t fail.

  I’m not sure what will happen to my self-esteem if this doesn’t work out, if I once again fail to pull it together to make something of myself. To make something of my life.

  Time passes.

  Ten minutes.

  Twenty.

  An hour.

  And no one.

  Not one tour bus. Not one customer.

  I sink deeper and deeper into my chair, tears streaking down my cheeks, depression starting to sink in.

  When the clock hits one in the afternoon, I crumble to the floor and lean against the wall, my heart shattering into a million pieces.

  Not a single soul has come to the shop.

  No texts.

  No phone calls.

  I’m not sure what hurts more—that Rowan and Dakota never showed up, or that I’ve failed. I pick at a piece of lint on my leggings as I consider it. There is no doubt in my mind which one hurts more.

  Dakota and Rowan.

  “Hello?” a voice calls out.

  Shit.

  I wipe at my face and stand from the floor as Leith walks up to the counter. “Hell, I’m sorry it took me so long to come in.” He thumbs toward the door. “A tour bus got stuck in a ditch just outside of town, and we all went out to help.”

  “We?” I ask, just as Lachlan comes through the door, huffing.

  “Are there butteries left?” he asks in a panic.

  “Och, Fergus, out of the way,” Shona says as she steps into the coffee house, followed closely by Hamish, Alasdair, and . . . Isla.

  “There’s still butteries!” Leith shouts down the line.

  The little line cheers, and—God help me—I start bawling like a baby.

  The community has shown up for me. At least there are some people out there who appreciate the hard work I’ve put in.

  “Lass, you okay?” Leith asks.

  I nod and wipe at my eyes. “Yes, sorry.” I take a deep breath. “Just . . . no one came in, and I just thought . . .”

  “Aye, we’ve been legs deep in mud all morning. There was a landslide just outside of town, and a tour bus got stuck. All the other tour buses had to divert for the day, but we’re all cleaned up now, and the road is good to go. Trust me, I would have been here sooner after yesterday’s buttery.” He pats his stomach. “We might be personal trainers, but we don’t mind a little buttery on the bones.”

  He winks as Lachlan slings an arm around his neck. “And butteries aren’t the only things we’ll shred.”

  “Well, thank you,” I say, smiling through tears. “Would you like a drink too?”

  “Tea, please. Earl Grey.” Leith nods to one of the tables. “Gotta grab a table before Shona can.”

  “Och, that’s very gentlemanly of you,” Shona calls out.

  They all laugh, and so do I as I prepare their orders, which I spend the next few moments filling. Hamish cleaned me out of the tattie scones, said he was going to take them to the locals who helped with the cleanup.

  By the time Isla comes to the counter, I have two butteries left and a few slices of cake. She smiles kindly and reaches out to take my hand. “You did a great job, Bonnie.”

  “Thank you,” I say, returning a sad smile while the elephant in the room practically chokes all the air out of my lungs. “How’s . . . Dakota?”