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He had so much responsibility, and now me too.

“Do you want to come for a bike ride?”

“Okay,” I replied. “What about Lulu?”

“She’s concentrating on her tan.” He rolled his eyes. “Let me see if I need to adjust the saddle.” He handed me one of the bikes. “No, that looks fine,” he said.

I hadn’t ridden a bike for a long time, but that didn’t deter me or Dylan, who led the way out onto the road and turned left, away from the village. It was late afternoon; the sun was beginning to sink in the sky, and it cast a golden glow over the landscape. It was exhilarating to feel the warm breeze against my face and in my hair, and to try to keep up with Dylan.

We cycled past a large vineyard where the grapes were fat and plentiful—they must be ready for harvesting—and then we cycled past another huge field of sunflowers. I had to struggle with the notion that it was all Dylan’s.

A little later down the road, Dylan turned left and we headed up a small lane. On one side, the field of sunflowers continued; on the other, there was a fallow field full of wildflowers—poppies, daisies, and something blue that I didn’t know. It was absolutely idyllic and reminded me of the fields around Bekesbourne.

This was why I liked it here—it reminded me of home.

Dylan pulled up beside a gate, and I was grateful to stop and catch my breath. The gate led to a small farm that looked like it was built around the same time as Dylan’s house and in the same old sandy-colored stone.

“This is where the Gomberts live,” he said as I pulled up beside him.

“This whole place reminds me of Bekesbourne.”

He smiled. “That’s what your mother said.” His voice was soft with fond memories. “I know the Gomberts are out this evening. Otherwise, I’d take you to say hello. Next time, eh?”

I nodded.

We headed off again past another vineyard that bled into a wooded area. About a mile down the lane, Dylan turned left again, down another small lane. We raced past the wood—keeping up with him was a challenge.

“Not too fast for you, am I?” he called.

“I can keep up!” I shouted and then took several gulps of air.

On the other side of the wood, there was yet another vineyard, then an orchard of apple trees. “You grow apples!” I exclaimed. Apples were my father’s favorite fruit.

“Apples and walnuts!” Dylan called back to me.

We passed the orchard and sped to the main road again, where we turned left. Five minutes later, we were back at the manoir. As we cycled into the driveway, a young couple were climbing out of a car with a UK number plate. Dylan stopped to greet them while I rode on to the house.

I parked the bike near the front door and went to find Lulu. She was lying by the pool, absorbing the last of the late-afternoon rays. The bike ride had left me hot and sweaty, so I stripped to my swimsuit and dived into the pool. It was heavenly. I swam up to where Lulu lay.

She took her headphones off and smiled at me. “How was your bike ride?”

“Hard work, but don’t tell Dylan.”

She grinned. “You’re a glutton for punishment, Emily. How would you feel about going out to eat tonight?”

“You know how much I love my food.”

She laughed.

Dylan strode over toward us, taking off his tank top as he did. He stood beside Lulu and removed his shorts so he was in his swim trunks.

“Quick swim, then we’ll go out?” he said to Lulu.

She nodded.

“Why don’t you two go out on your own?” I suggested.

“Oh, no, sweetheart, it’s our last night here. Let’s all go out. There’s a festival and firework display in the village tonight. You’ll enjoy it.”