“Could you give me a minute?” she asked, throwing the tickets back onto the counter and running out the room.
She ran through the pub until she found the bathrooms, separated from the rest of the pub by a wooden door and a simple bar lock. Rachel thrust herself inside, wanting nothing more than a few moments to think.
A single picture frame decorated the wall, showcasing a simple oil painting of oranges, and the window was kept from view by a short red curtain. Like the rest of the pub, the owner had strived to keep a quaint, comfortable air in the room—not that Rachel noticed any of it, she was too far in her own head to take in her surroundings.
This wasn’t what she planned for. This wasn’t how it was meant to go. Emily was meant to be oblivious—unaware of Rachel’s feelings, or unsure
