Reunited at The Altar

‘I always see Mum for her birthday and Christmas,’ he protested. ‘And I see Ruby. I video-call Mum at least twice a week.’

‘Which isn’t the same thing as coming home.’

He blew out a breath. ‘I know. Since you ask, I just couldn’t face it. There were too many memories, too much unfinished business that will never get closure now.’

‘Unfinished business?’ She didn’t understand. Like her, Brad and Ruby had had an idyllic childhood, growing up with parents who adored them. They’d all been popular at school and done well academically; Brad had won every single science prize. She couldn’t think of anything that would count as unfinished business. Unless... ‘Do you mean us?’

He shook his head. ‘Not that. It doesn’t matter.’

She thought it did, but he had that closed-off expression in his eyes that she knew only too well. Time to back off. Maybe if she gave him time to think about it, he might open up and help her understand what was in his head—and she could help him deal with it.

‘But yes, before you ask, I feel guilty about not coming back. I know I was selfish. But I can’t change the past, Abby.’

‘No.’ But you could learn from it. ‘Was it as bad as you thought it would be?’

‘No,’ he admitted. ‘I think, the longer I left it, the more it built up in my head and the worse I felt. It was easier to use work as an excuse to avoid coming here. But I’ll make more effort in the future.’

She hoped so—for his mum’s sake. ‘OK. I think you’re talked out for now. Are you up for something different for pudding?’

He looked relieved that she wasn’t pushing him any further. ‘Bring it on.’

‘Correct answer,’ she said, and took a tub from the freezer.

‘New recipe?’

‘Very, very old one, more like,’ she said. She served him a scoop, then sat with her elbows propped on the table and her chin resting on her hands, watching him.

‘Aren’t you having any?’

‘Maybe later. I want to see your reaction,’ she said.

‘Are you turning into a scientist, now?’ he asked.

She laughed, liking his sense of humour. ‘No. I just want to see your face when you try it.’

‘I’m not even going to ask,’ he said, and tasted a spoonful.

She saw the exact moment he realised what he was eating. And that it wasn’t actually sweet.

‘That,’ he said, ‘is really not what I was expecting.’

‘Is that you being polite and you don’t like it?’

‘No. Now I’ve adjusted my mindset, it’s quite nice.’

‘Normally I’d serve this with slices of fresh apple or pear,’ she said. ‘Or really good crackers. But I wanted you to try this on its own, first.’

‘For the shock value.’

She laughed. ‘Busted.’

He took another spoonful. ‘So is this what sparked off your idea for dog ice cream?’

‘Yes—after I tried it at the Old Boat House, I looked up some old recipes and gave it a go. Mum brought Waffle over and I dropped some on the floor—and you know what dachshunds are like. He scoffed the lot. And that was my lightbulb moment.’ She smiled. ‘But I use cheddar for the dogs rather than Parmesan.’

‘I still can’t quite believe I’m eating cheese ice cream.’ He took another spoonful. ‘It’s good.’

‘Thank you. I haven’t actually got any crackers in at the moment, but I can slice you an apple if you like.’

‘It’s fine just as it is,’ he said with a smile. ‘When you were talking about my reaction, I did wonder if you were going to give me the dog ice cream.’

‘I could,’ she said. ‘I only use human-food-grade ingredients—partly because the owners don’t believe it at first and want to taste it themselves. But I have an official panel of canine testers, including Waffle, Ollie the Collie—’ his mum’s dog ‘—and the dogs of all my staff.’

‘So you have regular doggy tasting evenings?’

‘Give me a sec.’ She flicked into the photo albums on her phone, found the picture she was looking for, and handed him her phone. ‘Here we go.’