(Ruby's POV)
The morning after the safe, I woke to the smell of coffee.
Nicholas was already up. I could hear him moving around in the kitchen, his footsteps soft on the old floorboards. The curtains were open, and pale sunlight filtered through the windows. The sea was calm today, barely a whisper against the cliffs.
I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. The plaster was old, cracked in places. Workers would fix it eventually. Everything would be fixed eventually.
But not the cracks in my family. Those would take longer.
I got up and pulled on my robe. The floor was cold under my bare feet. I walked to the kitchen.
Nicholas was at the stove, scrambling eggs. Mrs. MacLeod was nowhere to be seen. It was just him, in his shirtsleeves, hair still messy from sleep.
"You cook now?" I asked.
He turned. "I'm trying."
"How's it going?"
He looked down at the pan. "The eggs are burning."
I laughed and took the spatula from him. "Sit down. I'll finish."
