With another swift nod he leaves me, his pace far steadier than Edward’s was.
Now it’s just me, my cup of tea and a thousand memories all making themselves known.
Oh, Katherine, you really have done a number on us both.
I walk to the bed, sink into its edge, careful not to spill my drink. The bedding alone looks like it’s worth more than the entire contents of my backpack. And don’t get me started on the rest of the room...
The exquisite furniture that looks ancient yet pristine. The heavy tartan drapes in front of the large bay window that curves with the turret and offers space to sit and survey the land. The pillows sumptuous and inviting. The tapestry rugs adorning the floor and the gilt-framed paintings of landscapes and people gone by on every wall.
It’s yours now...
Like hell it is. None of this is mine.
And yet the legal documents and the letter from Katherine say it is. Half of it, at least.
I suck in a breath...let it out slowly. Take another...
It’s time to stop questioning it and do as Katherine says—look to the future and ‘forge a better path to happiness’. Whatever that means...
I know one thing for certain: looking back isn’t going to help us move forward. We need to lay the past to rest, and that means forcing him to hear the apology he doesn’t want to listen to.
Mind made up, I unpack, trying to make the room feel like home. I place the photo Katherine gave me as a leaving gift on the bedside table, where it always lives, and Ted beside it. My little bear is so tatty it’s a miracle he still has all his limbs. He’s the only thing left from my life before foster care and he’s travelled everywhere with me.
‘Welcome to your new abode, Ted.’ I pat his threadbare head.
I’m not sure why I keep him. I’m not even a hundred percent certain he came from my mother. But I guess he’s a reminder of where I came from...and he’s a warning, too. Not to get attached. That even those who should love you by blood soon realise you’re not worth it.
‘Not us, though, hey, Ted? We have each other.’
I tackle the dressing room next...or rather it tackles me. My clothes are dwarfed by the sheer size of it. My trainers, walking boots and sandals tuck into one corner, leaving row upon row of vacant space, the clever lighting accentuating just how bare it still is. And just how ridiculous and out of place I feel using it.
I turn away.
You don’t belong here, the empty space whispers at me.
But then Katherine’s voice from the past overrides it. ‘This is your home for as long as you want it to be, Summer.’
‘Home,’ I repeat aloud, testing it for size.
I don’t do homes. It’s not just people I avoid becoming attached to, but places too. I run before I’m pushed. It’s served me well until now...
And I know Katherine insists this isn’t emotional blackmail, but I can’t help feeling it is—just a little.
‘She’s a monkey, Ted,’ I say, walking back into the bedroom and grabbing up my toiletry bag.
I find the bathroom already stocked as I unpack my own toiletries. I eye the expensive-looking body wash and have the silly urge to sniff it, just to see if it smells of Edward, and snap my hand back to my side—weirdo!
It’s then I see my reflection in the mirror above the sink and grimace. I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.
Jet-lagged me is bad enough. Jet-lagged me with a disturbed night and a body in turmoil over being back here with Edward is something else. I’m hovering between startled rabbit and Mad Hatter. And don’t even get me started on my hair. Do helicopters do that?
I check my watch and curse. I have ten minutes to get ready.
I strip swiftly and hit the shower. It’s vast, the marble tiles spotless, the jets hot and fierce and everything my aching body needs.
Clean and refreshed, I feel more awake and ready to face the music. To face him.
I choose my clothes carefully. Jeans and a cream fine-knit sweater—one that Edward helped me choose that afternoon.