Chapter 2
“To Harper,” chimed Eiley and her family as they clinked their glasses together.
Harper, Fraser, Mum, and her younger sister Cam and sister-in-law Sorcha completed the toast. Andy, the local B it was like something out of a regency novel, elegant, with gorgeously green gardens and ivy crawling up the traditional stone exterior. “We’re staying there ?”
Cam nodded. “A fancy spa hotel on Loch Fyne. Alice told me about it a few weeks ago, and it sounded heavenly. We need a pamper, don’t we?”
Harper was back to being ecstatic, feet stamping beneath the table so that the mostly drained drinks atop it clattered with the movement. “All of us?”
“Just you three, thank god,” Sorcha said, motioning between Harper, Cam, and Eiley. Her golden nose ring glinted in the light, glossy black ponytail cascading over one shoulder. “I couldn’t think of anything worse than strangers touching me.”
Eiley didn’t really like the sound of that, either, although she was still fixed on the beautiful building. It was instinct to protest: “But the kids—”
Cam shut Eiley up with a firm show of her hand. “—will have a wonderful time with Uncle Fraser this weekend, so don’t even start. It’s one night, and we’re all going to have fun.” She said it so sternly that it might have been more of a threat than a promise, causing Eiley to shrink in her seat.
She didn’t like it. It wasn’t like the kids hadn’t stayed with Fraser before, and she knew they would have a blast with him and his beloved border collie, Bernard …
but should she be palming them off so she could spend a weekend getting pampered?
Fraser and Mum already babysat so often.
Now that Finlay was out of the picture, she was their only present parent.
And she already felt like a terrible one for sitting here, nursing a drink, when she should have been tucking them into bed.
“Okay, I’m extremely excited. Do they do mani-pedis?
The lack of salons in Belbarrow is becoming a problem.
” Harper inspected her nails, which were nothing less than perfect, painted a rich burgundy to match the background of her book cover as well as her pleated dress.
Eiley had already taken another fifteen or so pictures by the bridge with her holding her author copy, Harper insisting that they make the most of golden hour.
She wondered what it must be like to have that kind of confidence.
Eiley hadn’t touched her Instagram account in years, always looking pale and anxious, never having the time to care about makeup or colour-coordinated outfits.
Her camera roll was filled with blurred pictures of the floor from when Sky got hold of her phone, or else images of the three of them, usually with none of them looking the right way at the right time, if their eyes were open at all.
“Ew. Feet.” Sorcha stood with their empty glasses. “Does anyone want another round?”
“I’ll join you.” Andy hopped up, equally as eager to leave the table.
A chorus of ‘Ayes’ and ‘Yes, please!’ rang out, and Eiley nodded in what she hoped looked like enthusiastic agreement.
No pyjamas yet, then. Would she really enjoy going away if she could barely handle an evening in a pub that was only around the corner from the flat?
She at least requested a lemonade this time, afraid another glass of wine might leave her with a headache come tomorrow.
“Y’know, why don’t you two just go to this spa weekend?” she asked gently, leaning in to be heard over the cheers of the tipsy lads across from them. “I feel like I’m still playing catch-up with the new flat and the new job. I haven’t even unpacked properly …”
Cam’s steely glare was enough to unravel the rest of her sentence.
Harper placed a gentle hand over Eiley’s, lips pouting with much more sympathy. “You deserve the break, too. When was the last time you even did something just for you?”
Eiley gave a half-hearted shrug. She didn’t know the answer; didn’t even know where to start searching for it.
But that was her job, wasn’t it? That’s what mums were supposed to be like.
Even if she felt like she was failing at it every time she forgot the name of Brook’s latest school play, or Sky had a meltdown over something they could have avoided, or Saff refused to eat her lunch.
Of course, she couldn’t say any of that, because this wasn’t about her. It was about Harper, who truly did deserve a wonderful getaway to celebrate her publication. “Well, the bookshop is for me, isn’t it?”