“Not if he isn’t going to love me back. Loving someone who doesn’t love you back is the ultimate confidence crusher.” She thought of her aunt. “It’s also exhausting and bad for the soul, because you keep thinking ‘maybe if I do this or that, they’ll love me,’ so you keep trying but it doesn’t make any difference and it’s pretty hard not to take that personally. Before long you’ve twisted yourself into so many knots you don’t even know how to get back to the person you were.”

Julia stared at her. “How about just being yourself?”

“That never works for me. Or it never has in the past.” She tied the bouquet, thinking about all the things she’d told Jack that she’d never told anyone else. Not even Julia. “With Jack, I am mostly myself. That’s what makes it scarier. If he rejects me, he’s rejecting the real me, not a manufactured version of me. Does that make sense?”

“Not really. When I met Geoff I loved him, he loved me. The real me. End of. It’s pretty simple really.”

“There is nothing simple about relationships. You two are lucky, that’s all.”

“Well, you obviously have strong feelings for Jack. And you love Molly, so Izzy is the only real obstacle. Do you even see how insane this is? If Izzy only likes you because you go running with her, then you’ll have to run every day forever and that is going to kill you. Are you planning on being a fake person for the rest of your life?”

“Maybe I’ll be a fitter person. I certainly ache more.” She rubbed her spine and tried to ignore the pain in her legs.

“Have you tried stretching?”

“No. I can’t move, let alone stretch. My objective is survival. I haven’t had a heart attack yet, so that’s got to be good, right? And if I’m spending the vacation with Jack, I need to look decent in a pair of shorts.”

Julia gave her a dark look. “I think how your legs look in shorts is the least of your worries right now.”

Was Julia right? Maybe.

One thing was sure—this holiday was going to be make-or-break. Flora hoped she wasn’t the one who was going to break.

10

Clare

“I’ve had an email from Jack.” Clare spread butter onto toast, and added a spoonful of the orange marmalade she’d spent the whole of the day before making. Most of the jars would be stored and used for weekend treats over the coming summer, but she’d kept this one back. If she was going to toil over a boiling pan, the least she could do was savor the fruits of her labor.

“How’s he doing?” Todd reached across and stole her toast.

She gave him a look. “Why do you always eat mine?”