10. Beth
CHAPTER TEN
BETH
T he next day, I attempted to shrug off my concerns about fitting Samuel into my schedule next week, as well as a million other things wearing on my busy brain, as I hurried into my parents’ house on Dublin Street with a “Sorry I’m late!”
Music sounded from the kitchen, so I guessed no one could hear me. I hurried through the elegant vestibule that had more shoes than usual lined up along the bench seating, into the large hall housing the wide stairwell that led up to two more floors. Growing up in a mammoth home like our townhouse had felt normal to me as a kid. I’d had no understanding of my privilege until I was a teenager and I met … well … until I met Callan.
My parents had always instilled in us that we were lucky to have a good start in life, but that we had to work hard if we wanted to achieve what they had. They might help and support us, but they weren’t going to hand everything to us.
On the ground floor, three doors split off to a huge kitchen my parents had renovated a few years ago, a TV room, a guest bedroom, a bathroom, and Dad’s office. On the next floor was my parents’ primary suite, a huge second living room, and Mum’s office. The top floor had been mine and my siblings’ floor growing up. We each had a bedroom and shared a bathroom. Mum and Dad had kept the character of the house by restoring Georgian coving and paneling throughout.
One day I’d love to be successful enough to buy a place like this to raise my kids. I’d only need around three and a half million pounds.
I snorted at the thought, trying to stem the sudden tightness in my chest.
Most of my family were gathered in the massive kitchen. Mum sat on a stool at the end of the island with my aunts Ellie and Hannah, drinking wine. Dad was at the stove with Grandma Elodie. Luke, Elle, my cousins Sophia and Jarrod, and Luke’s boyfriend, Afonso, sat at the breakfast nook. Grandpa Clark, Uncle Adam, and Uncle Marco sat with their backs to me at the island and to my surprise, there was no sign of my cousins Will or Bray. They were Uncle Adam and Aunt Ellie’s sons. Bray was named after my dad, Braden, because apparently, Dad and his sister wanted to confuse the heck out of everyone.
My uncle Marco’s son to a previous relationship, Dylan, was studying in the US. Like Lily and Luke, Dylan was twenty-one, and he was on a year’s university exchange from Glasgow to Northwestern in Chicago.
Marco’s wife was my aunt Hannah. Hannah wasn’t related to me by blood but was Ellie’s half sister and Elodie and Clark’s daughter, just as Elodie and Clark’s son Declan was Ellie’s half brother. Declan was the one member of our family who hadn’t remained close. He moved to Australia for a job, taking his wife and kids with him, and we only saw him once a year at Christmas.
My dad had always treated Hannah and Declan like his wee sister and brother, so it made no difference to us. We were all family.
And none of my family had noticed me enter.
Longing ached in my chest as I took them in. This lot was only a small portion of it. We were the (mostly) related portion. The rest of our family was made up of my parents’ friends, but we were so close I’d never considered them anything but aunts and uncles, and their children my cousins.
My dad noticed me first. His whole face lit up as he walked around the island toward me. “There’s my gorgeous girl.”
“Well, you did guilt-trip me into being here, so don’t act so surprised,” I replied sarcastically, even as Dad enfolded me in his arms and I hugged him like I hadn’t seen him in years. Dad was tall and broad-shouldered and one of the few people who could make me feel dainty. There was nothing better or safer than a dad hug.
He kissed the top of my head and gave me a squeeze before releasing me. “Missed you.”
“You too.”
“We wouldn’t have to miss you if you didn’t work so hard.” Mum was at our side now, waiting her turn for a cuddle.
At her disapproving tone, I frowned. “Eh, and for whom am I working so hard?”
“I don’t ask you to work so hard you have no life.” She reached up to cup my face in her palms, studying the features no one could deny I’d inherited from her. Other than my dad’s height and pale blue eyes, Jocelyn Carmichael’s dominant genes were stamped all over me. Same eye shape, same nose, same mouth, same hair, same skin tone. I was her mini me. Except I was taller. I’d sprouted past Mum at fifteen and hadn’t let her forget it.
“I have a life, shortie.” I took her hands in mine gently to remove them from my face. “I have a successful business.”
“That’s not all there is to life.” Mum pursed her full lips, studying me. “You look tired. I’m worried about you. You know when you got that flat, we thought we’d see more of you, not less.”
Irritation burned in my chest. “Gee, did Luke get this interrogation when he arrived?” I gestured to where my brother sat with my wee sister. Elle gave me a sympathetic wave, and I took that opportunity to head over to her. I smiled at my cousins Sophia and Jarrod. Jarrod was Elle’s age, and Sophia was seventeen. Because of their close ages, the three of them were good friends beyond being cousins. Sliding my arm around Elle, I kissed her temple. “Hey, baby girl.”
Elle gave me a one-armed hug. “Hey, you. You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I studied her pretty face. While Luke was a younger version of Dad, down to his Roman nose and cleft chin, and I was a younger version of Mum (except for the color of my eyes), Elle was more of a mix of our parents. She had long dark hair and Mum’s gray eyes and a slightly more subtle cleft chin than my brother and dad. “How’s school?”
Elle shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s there.”
I turned to Mum who’d slipped back onto a stool next to Aunt Ellie. Smiling at Ellie’s conspiratorial wink, I reluctantly turned my attention to Mum. “I see our kid is as interested in school as ever.”
“Our kid?” Mum gestured between her and Dad. “You had no hand in making her.”
“I helped raise her.”
Mum quirked an imperious eyebrow. “Do we really think so?”
“ She is here.” Elle shoved me playfully. “And I’m doing fine in school. Just because I’m not type A like you doesn’t mean I’m not getting through.”
“Getting through,” I muttered under my breath. Envy scored through me at her blasé attitude. Sauntering across the kitchen, I smiled to my aunts and approached Grandma Elodie. She stopped stirring the frying pan where all the amazing smells were coming from and turned to greet me.
“Beth.” Grandma Elodie drew me into a hug. Like Aunt Ellie, she was tall, and we were almost equally matched as we embraced. She smelled of wildflowers and the spices from the fajitas she was making with Dad. “I didn’t know if you were coming.”
Guilt flashed through me. “Sorry I’ve missed the last few Sundays. It’s been hectic.”
“You do too much,” Grandpa Clark said from the island.
“Hi, Grandpa. How’s retirement treating you?”
“Retirement?” He quirked an eyebrow as he turned to Grandma Elodie. “I don’t think your grandmother knows I’m retired. I get a list of tasks to complete every morning.”
“Pfft.” She waved a wooden spoon at him. “It keeps you busy.”
Chuckling, I then greeted my uncles Adam and Marco, and then slid my arm around Mum’s shoulders before stealing a sip of her wine.
“You want a glass?” Dad asked as he chopped peppers.
“I’ll get it.” Hannah popped up off her stool to pour me one.
“Thanks.”
Mum slid an arm around my waist, pulling me into her side. I glanced down at her and tensed at the worry that hadn’t unwrinkled from her brow. “You really do need to start taking better care of yourself.”
“I’m too busy taking care of you and a million other clients,” I joked.
“Beth—”
“Jocelyn.”
She jerked at my dad’s voice. In my entire life, I had never heard my dad call my mum Joss, like everyone else did. She was always Jocelyn or babe . Dad gave her a meaningful look. “Let her be.”
Mum bristled. “I’ll tell my daughter I’m worried about her if I want to.”
“She just got here. At least let her have a glass of wine first.” He gave her a teasing smirk, and I felt her relax a wee bit.
“Fine.”
Aunt Hannah crossed the room to hand me the glass. Tall, blond, and curvy, she was a knockout who seemed to age backward. She was also one of the kindest people I’d ever met. Although I was good at hiding it, I’d hero-worshipped her as a child. Her husband Marco was, like Mum, an American transplant. He’d moved from the US as a teen to live here with his grandparents. He and Hannah were friends who went their separate ways and then reunited in their twenties. Marco was reserved but laid-back and movie-star gorgeous. In fact, Elodie had begged us to get a family photo a few years ago that included everyone currently in the room, plus Dylan, Will, and Bray, and the photographer couldn’t stop talking about what a ridiculously good-looking family we were.
That might be true, but these people were more than their shells.
I had a beautiful family because they were good and loyal and true. And I wanted nothing more in life than to live up to them, to make them proud.
“Thanks.” I gave Aunt Hannah a warm look as I took the glass of wine and considered Mum. I knew her pestering came from a place of love and concern. I shrugged off my stressy impatience and kissed her temple. “I’m fine, Mum. Promise.”
The truth was while I felt safe telling my parents almost anything, I’d never been comfortable with the idea of admitting to them when I couldn’t handle something. Mum had literally lost her entire family at fourteen and yet she’d braved an ocean to start over in Edinburgh. She’d forged a marriage that blew me away to this day. My parents might disagree and were both passionate people, but never once had I been concerned that their marriage was in trouble. They were solid as a rock, and I’d known that growing up.
Friends’ parents had divorced all around me, and I’d realized how comforting it was to know my parents weren’t going anywhere. Mum had juggled being a present wife and mother with building a successful writing career, all after having suffered unimaginable loss.
Then there was Aunt Ellie. Before I was born, she was diagnosed with a brain tumor and she’d made a successful career and life for herself, too, despite the anxiety she’d been left with from having the tumor and going through brain surgery. Thankfully, the tumor had been benign, but Mum had told me how scared they all were when they didn’t know how bad it was.
And Aunt Hannah … she’d confessed to me a few years ago that she’d had an ectopic pregnancy as a teenager. The child had been Uncle Marco’s, but he hadn’t known about it and he’d left Scotland. Hannah had been terrified to lose another child, but she’d fought through that fear and had gone on to have her kids and teach a whole bunch of others as a high school English teacher.
I hadn’t escaped my own difficult times. I’d known loss too. But if these incredibly strong women who had helped raised me could do all that, then I was ashamed to think I might not be able to cope or succeed like they did and had. There was a part of me, no matter how irrational, that already felt like a failure for needing to rely on anxiety meds. No matter how many stories or articles I read from other people suffering through anxiety, no matter how I never thought that anyone else was a failure for needing help to manage their anxiety, I couldn’t give myself the same grace and understanding. What the eff was that all about?
Mum looked up at me after I kissed her. “What was that for?”
“Just because.”
Her lips twitched. “You’re getting soft on me, kid.”
“You’re still a pain in my arse.”
“And that’s more like my Beth.” She clinked her glass against mine.
Not long later, we all gathered around the massive dining table my parents had commissioned to accommodate our large family gatherings. When our entire clan got together, there was a minimum of thirty-five people.
We took up one end of it, passing bowls of cheese and salad and salsa to pile on our fajitas. Laughter and conversation danced between us easily, and for the first time in weeks, a wee bit of the pressure on my chest eased. Mum was right. I needed this balance. If I worked, worked, worked, there were no moments of relaxation, of decompressing.
“Got enough cheese there?” Dad teased Mum as she heaped a shit ton on her plate.
She glowered. “What’s it to you?”
“Well, you have been known to fart after too much cheese, and I share a bed with you.”
Everyone but Grandma Elodie and Mum laughed. “Braden!” Grandma Elodie scolded.
Mum’s eyes danced with amusement even as she attempted to hold on to a glare. “For better or worse, Carmichael.”
“True. And I did know about the farting before we got married.”
“Can we stop saying fart at the dinner table?” Grandma Elodie asked primly.
“Yes, please,” Mum agreed, eyes still on Dad. “And stop acting like I have a flatulence problem.”
“I don’t know … it’s been going on a while.”
Elle giggled as Luke snort-laughed.
“Name a time I farted.”
“It’s hard to believe this conversation is taking place between two grown-ups. I’m sure I recently sat through a similar conversation with Freya and Catriona.” Grandma Elodie arched an eyebrow as she referred to the youngest members of our clan, my uncle Cole and aunt Shannon’s daughters.
“I am being accused of having a flatulence problem.”
“We’d barely begun dating—all the while pretending we weren’t dating—when you farted on the couch. We hadn’t been seeing each other that long and boom, all the mystery was gone.” Dad took a bite of his fajita, eyes twinkling with mischief.
I was stuck on the “pretending we weren’t dating,” and upon meeting my siblings’ gazes, I saw they were too. Before I could question it, Mum huffed, “One—I hate that you remember absolutely everything. Two—if I recall correctly, you were tickling me!”
Dad shrugged.
“Braden Carmichael?—”
“Wait—” I cut off Mum. “Pretending to date?”
Luke and Elle leaned forward too. None of us had heard this part of our parents’ relationship story.
“Your mum was in denial that she loved me.” Dad shrugged. “So we pretended it was no strings until she came to her senses.”
“Clearly, I never came to my senses because I ended up married to you.”
Dad grinned unrepentantly, and my mum gave him a heated look I unfortunately knew all too well. The times I’d walked in on my parents all over each other were too many to count. I couldn’t even think about the time I’d caught them having sex in the bathroom at Uncle Nate and Aunt Liv’s anniversary party six years ago. My parents had never lost their passion. It was well known among my friends, too, because they’d often commented on how affectionate Dad was with Mum. To my everlasting mortification, I’d discovered only a few months ago on a drunken night out that Dad was on both Cara’s and Michaela’s DILF lists.
Just no.
No, no, no.
So wrong.
That was almost as traumatizing as walking in on them having sex.
I threw away the thought.
“No strings attached?” I raised an eyebrow at this new and enlightening information.
“No!” Elle shook her head at me. “That’s enough. We don’t need to hear more about their sex life.”
I gestured to her. “You do realize they had sex to have you.”
Elle’s eyes flashed with horror. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”
Delighted, I deadpanned, “Over sixteen years ago, they had sex. Probably a lot of it. And you know what, they probably still have sex.”
“We do,” Mum and Dad said in unison.
Everyone laughed as Elle made a gagging sound.
“Though, apparently, not tonight.” Mum took an aggressive bite out of her cheese-filled fajita as she glared at Dad.
Dad wiped his face with a napkin and grinned wolfishly. “Nothing you could say or do will put me off, babe.”
“Not even farting?” Uncle Adam quirked an eyebrow.
“Will people stop talking about farting?” Grandma Elodie groaned.
Elle huffed. “And parents having sex.”
“Aye, what she said,” Sophia agreed.
“You know your parents are just as in love,” I told my cousin. “They’re most certainly still having a lot of sex.”
Sophia grimaced. “You know, it’s such a delight to have you back at these dinners, Beth. We’ve missed you. Really.”
I grinned. “Aw, thanks.”
“I don’t know why everyone says you’re my mini me.” Mum shook her head. “You are your father’s daughter. Shit-stirrer extraordinaire.”
Grandma Elodie sighed heavily. “I’m not sure any of this is appropriate dinner conversation.”
“Mum.” Aunt Ellie chuckled. “When has this family ever had appropriate dinner conversations?”
“That doesn’t mean we should give up trying.”
“Speaking of sex … Beth.” My brother had a wicked look in his eyes. “Have you had any since that time with that bloke in his Volvo?”
“Luke!” All the adults at the table exploded in outrage as I almost toppled my wineglass from laughing so hard.