‘You can’t.’
‘Come now.’ He held out his hand to her.
‘Bastien, pants on please?’
‘Let us spend the day together.’
Amelia sighed. ‘Bastien, you’re a very nice man and I had a great time last night, but I really can’t see you today.’
Sheepishly, Bastien did as he was told. She guessed the kitchen counter had been too cold because his pants were on the floor by her feet. He must have decided to forgo them at the last moment for full on seduction. At least he was committed. Amelia picked them up using the tips of her fingers and handed them to him. His skin made a horrible squeaking sound as he pushed himself down from the counter. Though his six-pack abs were enticing, all she could think was that she’d now have to disinfect the kitchen before she cooked and that meant even less time to chill out on the sofa. Seeing as his pants had been on the floor too, she would have to wash that as well. ‘You really want me to go?’
‘Yes, please. I’m sorry, but I have work to do.’
‘But it is Saturday.’
She looked at him over the edge of the letters in her hand but dropped her gaze when she saw the envelope postmarked from England with a company name, she didn’t recognise. Even worse, the town was dangerously close to Meadowbank; the tiny village she’d grown up in with Great Aunt Vera who had begrudgingly taken her in after her parents had died. Curiosity nearly forced her to open it there and then, but she valued her privacy more. Bastien had to go. Frowning as she placed the letters on the counter, she turned away from Bastien and went to get a glass of water from the fridge, hoping he’d get the hint that it was time to leave. Without turning, she was aware of him heading off into the bedroom and a few moments later, he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek and said goodbye.
The cold water slid down her throat and anticipation sent goosebumps over her skin. Or maybe it was concern. She didn’t normally get letters from England and the company name sounded unnervingly formal. After wiping down the counter, she sat on a stool and opened the post starting with the bright white envelope postmarked from England.
As soon as she pulled out the thick white paper, her eyes began scanning the words. An unexpected wave of emotion hit her, and her body began to shake in response. For a moment, even her breathing became hard and erratic and she willed herself to calm down. Great-aunt Vera was dead and had left her Meadowbank Farm, the draughty old farmhouse they’d co-existed in for ten unsentimental and lonely years. You couldn’t even really call it living together. Shaking her head at the memory, Amelia was glad she’d left for university and never returned. Vera hadn’t wanted her and if it hadn’t been for Adam, the only friend she had in the village, she’d have run away.
She couldn’t even count the times he had talked her out of it when Vera had told her off for doing nothing more than being a child. A moment’s respite from such intense emotions came as she thought of him again. He’d been her first love and she regretted that she’d hurt him by leaving but she’d had to. He’d have got over it by now, she reminded herself. Swallowing down her feelings, Amelia reread the letter. Shock subsided to be replaced by grief and guilt. She hadn’t even known Vera was sick. Apart from exchanging Christmas and birthday cards, they didn’t speak at all and her most recent Christmas card hadn’t mentioned anything about declining health. Had it been sudden? The solicitor’s letter didn’t mention the cause of death.
Amelia knew her thoughts sounded callous and cold, but she wasn’t a horrible person. Unless you knew Vera – knew how cold and hard she was, how unloving – you didn’t understand. It was typical of her. Some people were naturally private. It was a behaviour Amelia herself had learned, but Vera took it to a whole new level, hating everyone. Amelia buried the pain threatening to rise and overtake her. She took a breath in, counted to eight and let it out slowly, counting again as she did so. And yet, despite everything, Vera had left her Meadowbank Farm. According to the letter, she’d made Amelia the sole heir. Vera knew how much Amelia had always disliked the village. It was too tight knit. More like claustrophobic with everyone knowing everyone else’s business. Had she done this just to spite her or had it been because there really wasn’t anyone else?
Amelia hated being forced to do anything and yet, now she had to return to England.
Now, she had no choice but to go home.
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Hi, lovely readers,
I can’t believe that was our final visit to Swallowtail Bay! How has this year (and this series) gone so quickly? It’s been a weird one, hasn’t it, but I hope you’ve enjoyed your time at Swallowtail Bay.
How did you enjoy Winter Wishes? Are you a romcom fan like Nell (and me!)? What did you think of Tom?
Thank you for taking the time to read this book! When time to relax is short, I really do appreciate that you chose my story to spend some time with. That really is the greatest gift anyone could give me. If you enjoyed the story, it would be amazing if you’d consider leaving a review because they really help us find new readers and show our publishers that people like our work!
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