*Ethan*
It has been a wretched winter. I curse the frigid winds that whips around me as I dismount in front of the village tea shop, then choose some rather strong words to fling at myself for braving what surely has to be the last storm before spring for something as whimsical as strawberry tarts and on horseback nonetheless.
They aren’t even for me. As nearly a week and a half has passed and Josie has yet to communicate with me in any manner whatsoever, I know she is still grieving, and I am hoping the tarts may cheer her up and lessen her disgust with me. Or they will make her angry, but her fury is better than her sorrow.
The bell atop the door tinkles as I step inside and welcome the warmth. The only other customer is a young boy, barefoot without a jacket. What sort of parents wou
