The door to the en suite was wide open. She couldn’t be in there. Maybe downstairs making breakfast? He pulled on some boxer shorts and jogged down to the entrance hall, calling as he went: ‘Hey there, you haven’t asked me how I like my eggs …’

But the house was silent as the grave inside, and the only sounds were the wind rattling the windows and the cries of gulls wheeling around the house.

The kitchen was empty, the copper pan still on the worktop, the scent of chocolate thick and sweet on the air. Gabe strode through the sitting room and the hallway, then threw open the front door.

She’d gone.

Shit.

He found the note in the kitchen by the coffee maker. It had been written on the back of an envelope from the letting agent, with a gel pen.

Sorry I left without waking you. Last night was … you know what it was.

She’d drawn a wobbly smiley.

This will sound like a cop-out, and it is in a way, but I need time to think about it … this … us, I suppose, and it’s the festival too. See you later. S.

‘Damn.’

Gabe leaned back against the worktop and combed his fingers through his hair in despair. The cold light of day had shone its unforgiving rays on the reality of the situation. A reality that had been all too easy to ignore last night, making love with Sam. Being in her arms again, sharing the warmth of her body, had been all he’d cared about.

He walked through to the sitting room, the envelope dropping from his fingers, and stared out at the sea, willing it to give him some answers. Grey clouds rolled across a sky that was a washed-out colour that couldn’t seem to decide whether to be blue or white. Foam-topped waves broke on the swell. He opened the window and smelt the morning air, imagining he felt the cooling spray against his face and chest.

Sam only knew part of the reason he’d reported Ryan. If they were ever to move closer, he had to tell her the real reason. No matter what the consequences, and who he hurt – and it would hurt many of the people he cared for – there had to be no more secrets between them. Without that, he couldn’t even begin to glimpse a future for them both. And there was the most terrifying part. He had glimpsed a future – one that only a few weeks ago he’d thought was dead and buried forever.

When the festival was over, he resolved he would tell her the whole truth.

The bed would never be a deal breaker, but the secret he’d been keeping for the past ten years might be.

Chapter Thirty-Three

‘Sam? Is that you?’