I have to stay away.
The temptation to walk up to the house across the road swept through her. She wanted to speak to him. She also wanted to feel his lips on her again. Feel him close to her. But she couldn’t. The safe word had to be said out loud. Last night had been the ending. Nothing more.
Peyton slipped her hands into her jacket pockets and quickly walked down the steps. She needed to get to the lake and fast. There was no time to dwell on Callum Reid. She had already spent four and a half years doing so.
By the time she got to the bench, the lake was clear. She sat down and stared out at the lake, loving the way the fog didn’t touch the water’s surface. Instead, it rolled over, allowing the lake water to have its own space to breathe. One of the many reasons why she loved Daylesford. It was beautiful. There was no denying it.
Reaching into her pocket, Peyton pulled out her phone to check the time and the date. She wasn’t imagining the date. It was the first Monday of the month and just after eight a.m.; Graham was never late. Peyton was never the first on the bench. It was always Graham who was there waiting for her. With a victorious smile, she settled onto the bench and waited.
After almost an hour had passed, Peyton unlocked her phone and brought up Graham’s number. She looked over at the hotel, knowing that she was keeping Jenny, the hotel’s operations manager, waiting. With a deep breath, she called Graham.
“Hi, Graham Scott here. Can’t make it to the phone. Leave your details and I’ll get back to you.”
Peyton hung up and tried again.
And again.
And again.
The fourth time, she placed her phone on her lap and ran her hands over her face. Graham was never one to skip their tradition. Even when he was sick, he still made it.
Don’t be so paranoid, Peyton. It’s not what you think. You’re not losing Graham.
But then again, he’s never missed any of my calls.
She moved her hands from her face and stared out at the lake. The thought of losing Graham killed Peyton inside. She couldn’t lose him. She loved him. She knew she did. That’s why when he gave her the promise ring, she said yes. She looked at the faint tan line on her finger where the ring had once sat.
The screen of her phone lit up and caught her attention. Without a single thought, Peyton quickly answered her phone.
“Graham,” she said, relieved that he had called her back. She had known that he hadn’t forgotten.
“You called,” he said, sounding bothered by her.
Peyton flinched. “It’s the first Monday of the month.”
She heard him sigh before the line went quiet. Her eyes followed the roll of the fog on the lake as she waited for him.
“Honestly, Peyton, I don’t want to look at you let alone talk to you on the phone. I’m hung over.”
No.
Peyton let out a strangled sound. It was a sound she tried to suppress, but it escaped her. Her eyes stung as she held the phone tighter.
“It’s Monday, Graham,” she said, her voice betraying her. It made her appear weak.
She heard him take a sharp breath in. “You told Jay that I’d understand, but I don’t. We’re best friends. You could have just told me. I didn’t have to hear it from Jay. Right now, I’m disappointed in you. Let me be mad at you, Peyton. Just this one time, let me be mad. I’m sorry.” Before he let her respond, Graham hung up.
Peyton slowly removed the phone from against ear and stood up from the bench. She looked at the screen, hoping he’d call her back and say that it was a joke. But he didn’t.
Graham Scott had officially broken tradition.
A cup was placed in front of Peyton. She stared at it until she looked up to see Jenny frowning at her. Besides her aunt and uncle, Jenny was like a second mother, making sure Peyton never missed meals, always went to school, and always kept focus. While she had completed her bachelor, Jenny Fields had managed the hotel with Aunt Brenda and Uncle John.
“You seem like you need it,” Jenny said, sitting on the seat in front of Peyton’s desk.
Peyton gave her operations manager a tight smile—one that Jenny squinted and shook her head at. Then Jenny pushed back her auburn hair over her shoulders and sighed. Jenny was the same age as Peyton’s mother. Forty-six. But unlike Jenny, Cindy Spencer had only made it to forty-two.
“Thanks,” Peyton said as she moved the folder to the pile and reached over for the cup of coffee. Picking it up, she stared at the light-brown liquid that was inside.
It was Wednesday and she still hadn’t spoken to Graham. He never called. Never texted. But she’d let him be mad at her.
“What’s on your mind, Peyton?” Jenny asked. Her light-blue eyes filled with concern.