I don't know how long I spent crying but I didn't stop until I'd let it all out. I couldn't. After filling the toilet with snotty tissue, I finally felt like I'd cried all I could cry. Sucking in a deep breath, I unlocked the door and went to the sink. I splashed some cold water on face and dabbed at my eyes which took away some of the redness.

Happy I looked presentable enough to be seen in public again, I put all my emotions behind me and headed back downstairs. As I descended the flight of stairs that led to the men's, the door opened, making my heart leap into my throat.

When Marcus emerged, I froze, and for some reason held my breath.

"Hello again," he said, smiling up at me.

I thought he'd left already. Confused and curious, I let out my breath and said, "Hi. I thought you'd literally just left?"

He gestured towards the door and smiled. "Nature called."

I smiled and tried to ignore the fact we were alone together. My heart started pounding as I kept looking at him, soaking in his natural beauty. I'd never been so struck by someone. I literally couldn't take my eyes from him.

"Are you ok?" he asked. "You look like you've been crying."

My stomach cramped into a tiny little ball. I bet he'd soon be retracting his offer of tonight now he'd seen the state of me. I always felt pathetic when I cried, and I hated admitting it. It made me feel like a little girl and that would no doubt be how he would now see me.

I nodded. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking. Just a little...blip with Dad."

His eyes softened and he gave me a sympathetic smile. "He's more than unwell, isn't he?"

Water started dancing over my vision again. "Yes. It's terminal cancer. He's got a year at the most."

Marcus sucked in a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, Caitlyn."

"It's ok, it's not your fault." I sighed. "It's just the way he talks about it. It's so frank and matter of fact, it's like he doesn't even care that he's dying."

"Maybe that's a front. Maybe he's putting on a brave face to help ease everyone around him."

I shook my head. "No. He's too matter of fact about everything. The reason he likes the idea of us getting to know each other is so I'll have a friend when he's dead. That's literally what he's just said."

"If I do say so myself, I am a good friend to have."

I managed to half laugh. "Good to know."

"In all seriousness though," Marcus said. "Maybe you need to remind him that this isn't just about him, it's about the people around him too. Perhaps that'll make him realise he needs to ease off on being so blasé about it. Just because he's accepted his fate, it doesn't mean you have."

I thought about that for a moment. He'd hit the nail on the head. I hadn't accepted any of this most likely because I didn't want to. Would it have been easier if he'd just died suddenly so I didn't have the agony of watching him die? I didn't know. Both situations were horribly unpleasant.

"That's not a bad idea. Thank you."

"Happy to help." He fished his phone out of his pocket and held it out. "You can put your number in my phone if you like. Then you can call me or text me whenever you like."

I walked down the last three steps and smirked. "That would only work if you put your number in my phone."

He laughed. "Ok, you win. Not the best line to get your number. Guilty as charged."

Smiling like an idiot, I took his phone from him and typed my number in. "You could have waited until tonight to get my number you know."

He took his phone back and tapped around on the screen for a couple of seconds. Then he looked up at me with a delicious smile and said, "Why wait for tonight for what I could have now?"

That smile had my body reacting in ways I never knew existed. My heart raced, butterflies filled my stomach, my mind went blank, and a nervous sweat broke out all over me. I couldn't process all of that at once and engage in conversation. So much for women being able to multi-task.

"I'll let you return to your breakfast. It's probably going cold."

"Thanks for talking to me," I said, finally getting a grasp of some sort of coherency. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Eight p.m. sharp."

He gestured for me to pass him on the stairs and we headed down the rest of them in silence. When we reached the bottom, he stepped in front of me and held the door open for me to re-enter the café.

"Thank you," I said, blushing.

"My pleasure. I'll see you this evening. If I don't text you first." He gave me a cheeky wink and headed towards the front door as I made my way back to my table.

Dad looked up at me, and then caught sight of Marcus walking past the window. "I thought he'd left already?"

"Nature called apparently," I said, sitting back down.

Dad frowned. "I swear I didn't see him come back in." He pointed his knife at my food and said, "Come on, pumpkin. Eat up before it goes cold."

Before I'd bumped into Marcus in the stairwell, the thought of food seemed disgusting. Filled with nausea, I didn't want to face anything, even Sue's world class cooking. However, my brief talk with Marcus had eased all my negative feelings and I felt surprisingly good.

I scooped up a load of beans and plonked them onto my toast. When I took a bite, I remembered why I loved Sue's food so much.

"I think we need to discuss some boundaries regarding my illness, don't we?"

"What do you mean?"

"This isn't going to work if you keep running off and crying every time it comes up."

I put my fork down and finished my mouthful of food. "So I'm not allowed to cry about the fact my dad is dying? Is that what you're saying?"

"Caitlyn, come on. It's not like it's you that's dying. I've come to terms with it so why can't you?"

My jaw dropped. How could he say something like that to me? "Maybe so, but I'm the one that's got to continue living in a world without you in it. Once you're gone, that's it. No more drama for you, but that's not how it is for the rest of us, the people you're going to leave behind."

He pursed his lips. "I'm sorry, I'd not thought of it like that."

My mini victory felt nothing but sour. I ate the mushroom and stabbed another one so hard, the fork tongs screeched against the ocean blue plate my food had been served on.

"I've had to face this head on, Caitlyn, because there's no other way to deal with it. I know it must be hard for you—"

"To hear my dad talking about dying? Yeah, no kidding. It's like you don't even care."

"Of course I care. I'm just being realistic. If I talk about it openly then it's somehow easier to accept and deal with."

"For you."

He sighed and finished the rest of his breakfast. I forced my food down me, telling myself that arguing with my dad about his frank acceptance of his terminal illness was not how I wished to spend my limited time with him.

"I'm sorry," I said, finishing a cold hash brown. "I shouldn't pass my emotions on to you."

"It works both ways, pumpkin. Let's just say from now on that the whole cancer thing is...Austria, hmmm?"

I frowned for a minute, then realised what he meant. "You could have just said neutral, Dad."

"Sounds better putting a name to it."

I smiled at him as I finished the last of my stone-cold food. "You know what else belongs in Austria?"

He grinned. "I'm guessing something along the lines of discussing eligible bachelors?"

"Anything to do with that subject, Dad. It's just downright embarrassing."

"He was asking my permission to take you out, Caitlyn. Do you know how many guys do that these days?"

"None."

"Exactly. I think it's a very admirable thing. It says a lot about his character."

"How long have you known him?"

"Years. I knew his father, too."

"Why have I never seen him before?"

Dad shrugged his shoulders. "In his younger days he used to travel a lot, either hiking or fishing. He's only really settled down the last year or so."

"Come on then," I said, standing up. "Let's get the day done with seeing as I'm now going out tonight."

"You don't have to go if you don't want to."

"You mean go out in the dark with an absolute stranger to a haunted abbey?"

Dad laughed. "You'll be fine. Do you really think I'd have agreed to it if I didn't trust the guy?"

"That doesn't make it any easier to deal with or any less embarrassing."

Chuckling, Dad led the way out of the café and onto the rest of our day. We hit all the usual sites—Bram Stoker's Bench, the Whalebone Arch, the Lighthouse, the Captain Cook Museum, and the RNLI Museum.

"Are you done, kiddo?" Dad finally asked.

I looked at him and felt a tug of sadness in my heart. He looked exhausted. His face had paled several shades, his eyes had developed bags under them, and his breathing had become really short and shallow.

"Yes, Dad," I said, remembering our Austrian promise.

"Fancy the Four Seasons for tea?"

It had been such a lovely day after a shaky start, I couldn't tell him no to his favourite place for steak. "Sure."

We wandered down the street towards the restaurant in a comfortable silence and to my surprise, Dad hooked his arm around mine. A sense of love and happiness swelled inside me in an instant.

"I love you, Daddy," I said, patting his hand gently.

"I love you, too, pumpkin," he replied, squeezing my arm.

I couldn't help but wonder if he'd still be here this time next year. Could he be the exception to the rule, the one in a million diagnosis that might be wrong? Maybe he would actually beat this disease and live longer than expected?

Fighting the urge to discuss it with him, we ambled into the modest restaurant. Brown leather benches, dark wooden tables, and leather chairs, the entire ambience of the place said comfortable but modern. The food was absolutely exquisite though and well-priced considering.

The waitress came over and took our orders—we didn't even need to look at the menu to work out what we would be having. Dad would always have his usual steak and chips, and I'd always have my usual of fish and chips.

After the waitress went back to the kitchen, Dad reached across the table and took my hand in his. "How was your first night in your new home?"

I grinned. "Surprisingly good."

"Surprisingly?"

"It feels so strange down there. I'm used to it being all dark and dingy and the smallest squares of light being let in from those horrible windows. Now it's like a star has exploded in there and lit everything up."

He chuckled. "I wanted it to be somewhere you would enjoy being."

"It's definitely that. I still can't believe it. You shouldn't be spending all this money though, Dad. I'm worried."

His eyes glazed over and he frowned slightly. "Money belongs in Austria, pumpkin. It's not for you to worry about. I'm big enough and ugly enough to work out my finances according to what's needed."

I pressed my lips together. At this rate, everything was going to belong in Austria. There had to be some sort of compromise here, he was shutting me out.

The waitress brought our drinks over, cutting the conversation dead. I thought back to my little apartment and sighed in contentment. Having a TV come out the end of my bed had been last night's entertainment. I hadn't moved an inch. I had another TV in the small lounge area. It sat underneath two of the windows, on the wall, with a curved cream sofa in front of it. The problem with it though—the sofa wasn't my bed.

Lucious long pile rugs had been strategically placed in different areas, all of varying colours, to break up the open plan and sort of act as dividers. I had 3 lilac coloured rugs around both sides of the bed and at the bottom which matched the lavender coloured bedclothes. An oak bedside table sat one side of the bed and a matching wardrobe with drawers integrated sat the other.

The kitchen had all grey marble effect worktops and a slightly off-white colour for the cupboards. I even had a breakfast bar as well as a four-seater oak dining table. I couldn't wait to video call Mum later and give her a tour.

"I was wondering, pumpkin," Dad said, sipping at his steaming cup of tea. "How you would feel about helping out around the hotel?"

"Of course. I don't expect to stay there for nothing."

"I'll pay you of course, a proper wage."

"Dad, after what you've done for me with my room, I don't expect a penny."

"Less of it," he said, his voice stern. "I'm not having you work for nothing. You need money to live and the hotel needs an extra pair of hands."

I sighed. "Ok, if you insist. But I'm not happy about it, just to make that clear."

He laughed. "I'd expect nothing less."

"When do I get to meet this amazing handyman slash house remodeller slash interior decorator?"

"He's a very busy man. He doesn't just work for me. The council also employ him to keep the greens neat and tidy and a few other hotels use him too. I think he's coming by tomorrow though to do a few things to one of the rooms."

I had visions of a retired grey-haired man in my head for some reason. "What do you need help with around the hotel?"

"Joanna is struggling to clean all the rooms to a reasonable standard, especially when she brings in Cora and Karina. I was thinking you could each take your own rooms or take charge of specific duties, whatever is easiest for the both of you."

"Probably easier to each take definitive tasks but I'll sit and have a chat with her about it tomorrow."

"I don't expect you to start straight away, you need a couple of days to settle in."

"I'm fine, Dad. Other than our outing today, it's not like I have any plans."

He chuckled. "You never know what's around the corner, sweetpea."

I knew without a doubt he was referring to my 'date' this evening. My stomach churned as I wondered what exactly would happen. At this moment, I wished harder than anything that I had my bestie, Hannah, with me. She'd know exactly what to do and say. In fact, if she were here, I'd probably send her on the date for me.

"I've still not forgiven you for trading me off," I said, smirking at Dad.

He chuckled. "You might be thanking me yet."

That stopped me in my tracks. What if it all went well? My heart lurched. Then my brain kicked in. No. No way would this go smoothly.