“Why else did you bring us here?” she asked. “And you sounded a bit braggy then when you said he made everything.”
“Maybe I did,” he admitted.
The conversation was interrupted by the owner coming over. Pippa must have been in her late thirties – a petite woman with wavy brown hair. Patting Trystan on the shoulder, she smiled warmly and asked how he was. When he introduced her to Beth and Ellie, she tilted her head.
“Are you staying with Mirren?”
“Yes,” Beth replied with a puzzled smile.
“I have something for you,” Pippa said. “I’ll be back in a second.”
Beth squinted at Trystan. “That was strange.”
He didn’t have a chance to tell her that he often found Pippa a bit strange since she reappeared so quickly. Strange was the wrong word though; she actually seemed pretty normal, there was an air of negativity to her and he wasn’t overly fond of her. Not that he knew her well.
“Here you go.” Pippa set two small cardboard boxes on the table in front of Beth, then looked at Trystan. “That grumpy brother of yours put those in my delivery today with a note asking me to take them up to the guests at your mum’s house. I don’t know why he couldn’t take them himself.” She clicked her tongue and took their drink order before leaving them alone again.
Trystan took a deep breath through his nose, ignoring the anger that niggled in his gut. As much as he didn’t like the way Pippa grumbled about Lowen, he had to admit that she had a point: he could have delivered the mugs in person.
“Is that our cups?” Ellie asked, wriggling in her seat.
Beth pulled at the lid of one the boxes. “I guess so. Oh my goodness.” She lifted the mug out and turned it in her hand. “Isn’t that gorgeous?”
“It’s got the puffin,” Ellie said, shuffling off her chair and moving close to Beth to look.
“Look at the handle. It’s got your name on it.” Setting it aside, Beth took out the matching mug from the other box. “This one has my name on it.” Her eyes lit up as she showed Ellie. “That’s so lovely of him.”
Trystan was staring at the mug in her hand, barely registering what she was saying until she waved a hand in front of his face.
“What?” he said, snapping his head up.
“You went into a trance. Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“There’s no wonder you’re so proud of Lowen,” she said, beaming. “These are beautiful. It was so kind of him to go to all that effort.”
“Yeah.” Trystan nodded vaguely. “It was nice of him.”
Pippa arrived with their drinks and Trystan was thankful for the distraction. A dull ache had attached itself to his chest and he couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the fog of melancholy that seemed to engulf him. He felt as though he was somewhere else entirely as he sipped his coffee to the sound of Ellie’s incessant chatter. At least her running commentary meant that his lack of input into the conversation wasn’t so noticeable.
Although he suspected from the way Beth kept glancing at him that she’d noticed his change in mood. His fake smile became hard to maintain.
“Are you okay?” Beth asked him when they reached the bottom of their drinks.
“Yeah.” He swallowed hard. “I might need to head home. I have a bit of work I should be getting on with.”
“I thought you were taking the day off.”
“Yeah … I was … but I just remembered I have a couple of emails that I should have responded to. I might go and take care of it so it doesn’t play on my mind.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket as he stood up.
“I can get it,” Beth said. “Just go if you need to.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you later.” He managed an uncomfortable smile before making a hasty exit.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he set off for home at a brisk pace, keeping his head down as he went. His breathing was unnatural by the time he reached the cottage and he burst inside as though breaking the surface of water after a long dive.
His long inhale brought tears to his eyes. As he dropped to the couch, he cradled his head in his hands and focused on taking steady breaths. Unlocking his phone with shaking hands, he scrolled to Lowen’s number, then flopped back on the couch as he held the phone to his ear. If his brother answered he wouldn’t be able to speak through the lump in his throat. Not that it mattered, since he knew there was no way he’d answer. These days, the only times Trystan called Lowen was to torture himself. Maybe if he felt bad enough about what he’d done, Lowen might finally forgive him and they could get back to being friends again.