The next afternoon unfolded gently, the kind of day that felt unhurried, as though time itself had decided to slow down out of courtesy. The sky was pale blue, the air crisp but not biting, and the estate grounds stretched wide and quiet, framed by tall trees and the distant shimmer of the sea.
Miriam had handed us two boxes—one filled with outdoor string lights, the other with wreaths and ribbons—and promptly excused herself, claiming her knees needed a break and that Neil was “perfectly capable of arguing with the extension cords on his own.”
Which was how Nathan and I ended up outside together, standing beneath the veranda, surrounded by coils of lights and greenery.
“Well,” I said, placing my hands on my hips as I surveyed the boxes, “this feels suspiciously like we’ve been left uns
