Page 1 of The Clifftop Cottage

AUTUMN

PROLOGUE

“Iwill love you always,” he said, leaning in close so only she could hear.

They stood near the window, the city spread out below them – lights stretching along the river, smeared and silvered by the glass. Inside, the room was calm. A few people gathered at small tables, voices low, laughter brief and contained. Someone at the bar clinked a spoon against a glass. Somewhere behind them, a pianist played, the music soft enough to be ignored.

Erica took it in without quite knowing why. The white tablecloths. The candles burning low. The way everything felt muted, held in check. It was elegant, or maybe just quiet. Hard to tell the difference.

“It’s us,” he murmured, his mouth brushing her ear. “Just us. That’s all we need.”

She squeezed his hand, letting the warmth anchor her.

“There’s so much ahead,” she said, the thought spilling out before she’d fully examined it. “I want to do it all with you.”

“And we will,” he replied, without hesitation. “Together. Always.”

He drew her closer, as if to block out the rest of the room. Erica leaned into him, letting herself be held there. Things had moved quickly. Faster than she’d expected.

Her dress caught the candlelight when she shifted, pale and simple. She’d worried briefly that it was too plain. Now, it felt right. Uncomplicated.

Like everything else tonight.

Behind them, glasses clinked. Someone laughed, then fell quiet again. The music carried on, steady and unobtrusive.

She stopped asking questions. Stopped weighing things up or imagining different versions of herself standing in different rooms. Everything was already moving. All she had to do was keep pace.

She let herself go with it, the certainty, the sense of being folded neatly into something already formed. With him beside her, the future didn’t feel vast or demanding. It felt contained. Manageable.

And so they stood there, hand in hand, while the night went on around them – private, restrained, sealed off from everything beyond the glass.

She thought this was love.

She didn’t yet know what it felt like to be rewritten.

1

Erica set her suitcase down next to the weathered wooden door and knocked three times, her hand trembling slightly. She drew in a deep, steadying breath. Don’t cry, she told herself, though the reminder felt pointless.

The car ride had been a symphony of tears and Taylor Swift, her sobs punctuating every chorus as she sang the pain out of her chest. By the time she arrived, she’d convinced herself her well of grief was dry.

Then the porch light flickered on, and Leah’s face appeared, her sister’s familiar, kind eyes lined with worry. The sight undid her completely. The floodgates reopened, and Erica broke into ragged, uncontrollable sobs.

“Oh, Erica.” Leah didn’t hesitate. She pulled her younger sister into a firm embrace, patting her hair like she always had when they were kids.

“I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow,” Leah said softly, guiding Erica inside with a protective arm around her shoulder. Then she pulled back slightly, blinking. “Wait – your hair?”

Erica patted her recently dyed chocolate-brown locks. “I needed a change.” She didn’t add anything more. The truth felt too tangled to explain.

The heat of the small cottage hit her immediately, along with a chaotic flurry of movement. A large black dog bounded into the hallway, tail wagging like a propeller, its enthusiasm aimed squarely at Erica.

She yelped, stepping back.

“Dusty, no! Honestly, he’s usually got at least some manners,” Leah said, grabbing the dog by the collar and wrestling him back with a laugh that was half apology, half exasperation. “Today, apparently, he’s feral.”

Erica wiped her face, blinking at the commotion, still trying to catch up with everything at once.

She’d never really understood dogs – too much energy, too much fur and way too much enthusiasm.