Shaking her head, she opened the front door and stepped outside, closing it behind her. She immediately hugged the jacket around her tighter. It was bitterly cold out and fog was in the air. She smiled, knowing just how beautiful the lake would look.

Peeking up, she stared at the Reid house. She’d been stupid to sleep with him, only because it meant more self-inflicted pain. After Callum had said, “Thank you,” he hadn’t said anything else. Instead, he’d walked her home. It had been different from their last night. When they were seventeen, it had taken them almost an hour for Peyton to sneak back into her room. They had sat under the cherry blossom tree until he’d decided it was best that she got back inside before her parents had discovered she’d snuck out.

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.

“I’m running a hotel. Between new bookings and a new business plan, I’m… I don’t know. Some days, I just think this place would have been better in your hands and not mine,” Peyton confessed.

Jenny’s facial features softened. “This is yours now, Peyton. I know it’s a lot sooner than you or your parents would have liked, but it’s yours. I’m always here to help you,” Jenny assured.

Peyton saddened. Jenny was just like her—staying in Daylesford because of responsibilities and loyalty. And she regretted the fact that she’d held Jenny back. Peyton put her coffee down and pulled the drawer open, taking out a large envelope.

“This is why you have to do this for me,” Peyton said, handing the envelope to Jenny.

“What is it?”

“Orientation papers for the Park Hyatt in the city. I called in a few favours from June; with her uncle being Park Hyatt’s HR manager and my recommendations, she was able to get you the managerial position they had open,” Peyton explained.

The disbelief washed over Jenny’s face as she opened the envelope and took out the papers. Peyton sat and waited. She would be losing a valuable employee, but Jenny’s dreams were more important than the hotel or the town. Only some were able to leave, and Jenny should be one of them. The hotel was losing a great asset, but Peyton didn’t mind.

Jenny stood up and placed the envelope papers on the desk. “I love this hotel, Peyton. It’s no Park Hyatt, but it’s something special. I wish you’d see that. You’re doing well. Your parents would be proud of what you’ve achieved for this place. I’m proud of you. Tell June I said thanks and I can’t wait for her new album, but I’m not leaving you or this hotel.”

A knock on the office door had Jenny stepping aside. Peyton stood up to see a man in a pair of cargo pants and dark-blue shirt holding a clipboard.

“I’m looking for Miss Spencer?” he said and smiled at both women.

Peyton walked around the desk towards him. “That’s me. How can I help you?”

He tipped his head at her. “I have the wooden frames and planks for the dance floor. I have the rest of the boys with me to start digging into the dirt and putting them up.”