‘You’re telling me you can’t see that he wants to be much more than just a friend and neighbour?’
‘What?’
‘Perhaps things have progressed beyond friendship and neighbourliness already?’
‘We’ve had an occasional cup of tea and a chat together and that’s all. I’ve certainly never encouraged anything more personal than that. And even if I had it’s none of your business who I spend my time with … not any more. Did you forget that we’re divorced?’
‘No.’ For a moment his expression bordered on tortured. ‘I didn’t forget.’
The annoyance and indignation that had threatened to overwhelm Ailsa a few moments ago deflated like a burst balloon. Now, instead of annoyance, the predominant feeling that coursed through her veins was compassion. They’d both been badly injured in the accident that had killed their longed-for baby, and if that wasn’t enough they’d also endured the devastating end of their marriage. On top of that, Jake had recently lost his father. He had to be hurting.
Was his anger towards her over the thought that she might be seeing someone else a cover for that hurt? More than ever she realised they needed to talk. Somehow during this enforced stay of his at the cottage they had to find a way to start resolving their shared agony from the past.
Her gaze came to rest on the sturdy cast iron frying pan she’d left on the stove. ‘I’ll get on with cooking your breakfast. Do you want another cup of tea? That one’s probably gone cold by now.’
Returning to sit down again at the pine table, Jake pulled the mug of tea that Ailsa had made earlier towards him and took a sip. ‘It’s fine,’ he murmured.
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