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Shit. I thought Briony had it all together, but for years she’s been blaming herself for something that clearly wasn’t her fault.

“You didnae tell Innes to go off-piste,” I point out. “You’re no responsible for the accident.”

“I’m his big sister. He was just fifteen. I should have been there.”

“Bullshit. Aye, fifteen is young, but he was no wee kid. He took a risk, it backfired. It’s a shit situation, but you didnae cause it.”

“But if I’d just stayed with him⁠—”

“Doesnae make it your fault. Tell me, does Innes blame you?”

“No. Well, I don’t think so. It’s not something we really talk about.”

I put down my knife and fork. “Christ, Briony. You beat yourself up over this, and you don’t even know what he thinks? I only met him for a few minutes, and even I can tell you he doesnae blame you. He was joking around, talking about what he wants to do wi’ his life. That’s no a guy who’s spent four years resenting his sister.”

“Maybe. But even if he isn’t pointing a finger at me, that doesn’t change the fact that I wish—I wish so much—I’d just stayed with him that day.”

“Shit, flower girl.” I reach across the table and place my hand on hers. “You can wish all you like, but it’ll no change anything, and it’s only gonnae drive you mad. We cannae change the past, and you couldnae have known what was gonnae happen.”

A paw nudges my leg. Penny gives a thin, hopeful whine. She’s now sitting right by my chair.

“Really, wee yin? Your owner’s spilling her heart out, and you’re still after grub?”

Briony chuckles, then sniffs. “That’s Penny for you. I wouldn’t have her any other way.”

I remember what Briony said earlier, that Penny was three when she got her, and she’s six now. That means Briony adopted her three years ago, a year after the accident. I wonder if that’s not a coincidence. The night of her birthday, Briony said something about how she hardly ever goes out. And she’s just admitted that she hadn’t had sex since the holiday in Switzerland.

Has Briony been limiting her own life out of guilt over what happened to her brother? Has she been working hard then hanging out at home with only Penny for company, instead of going out and experiencing more of life?

Mind you, I’ve spent years keeping women at a distance. Seems like we’ve both got pretty good at being on our own.

“Right,” Briony says. “Dessert.”

“There’s dessert?”

“Cranachan. Raspberries, whipped cream, honey, a splash of whisky, and toasted oats.”

“Oh, fuck, yes.”

After we’re done with dessert, Briony tops up our wine then suggests we head back through to the living room. No sooner has my arse touched the sofa than Penny jumps up beside me.

“No, Penny,” Briony says. “Why don’t you go on that side?” She points to the far end of the sofa.

Penny shows no interest in this suggestion, so Briony sets down her wine, lifts Penny, and moves her to the far cushion. She then slides into the middle, her leg brushing mine.

I draw my knees a little closer. “Sorry. Manspreading. I know women hate that.”

“Don’t be daft. I’ve met the sausage. I know it needs its space.”

Where did that come from? I turn my head slowly. She looks back at me, all innocence.

“What was that?” I say.

“Nothing.”

Nothing, except she’s pressed right up against me, I can smell her hair, and she’s just brought up my dick. Christ.

“Shall we watch a film?” she suggests.