Chapter 12
Twelve
EILIDH
Five months ago
F or the first time in years, I felt free.
In hindsight, it seemed obvious that what I’d needed all along was to just admit to the people I loved that I’d made a mistake. And that I hated the person I’d become. In hindsight, the latter especially wasn’t easy to face, let alone confess.
I feared changing my life. Feared disappointing them. Feared no one would take me seriously ever again because I’d made such a colossal error with the path I’d forged so far. Mostly I think I was terrified that if I admitted I didn’t like who I was, they would admit, at least to themselves, that they didn’t like me very much either.
The very thought of that was so painful, I couldn’t bear it.
I hadn’t lied when I told my family about visiting Sean McClintock. I arranged to visit him because I needed to make sure what Mor had overheard was true. It meant confirming it and protecting her so they didn’t find out she was the one who’d told me the truth.
I was sick to my stomach meeting Sean, but he seemed so normal. So nice, actually. I couldn’t forgive him for what he’d done, coming after me or having an affair with my mother, but I was grateful he was willing to meet and be honest with me. Sean told me Francine had been afraid of losing her youth after she gave birth to me. That she didn’t want to be an ordinary wife and mum. She’d wanted excitement. Not to be stuck in a tiny village in the Highlands. That last one had hit its mark because for so long, I’d thought the same. That staying in Ardnoch equated to living an unremarkable life. Francine’s answer was to start an affair with a married man, even though it blew up both their lives.
Somehow discovering my birth mother had cheated on my dad who was so wonderful, and all because she was bored, hit me in a place I never expected. It royally fucked with my head. I saw all the things I hated about myself in her in that moment.
The breakdown in front of my family was the culmination of everything that had happened in the past few years.
The stress of my job, the way the public picked me apart, finding out about Francine, and Fyfe. He was the one person who knew everything I was going through … and he didn’t want me enough to want to risk the status quo. I’d never connected with someone the way I connected with Fyfe. It seemed to me then that if he didn’t want me, there had to be something wrong with me. That everything I’d grown to hate about myself must be true.
That was the breaking point. I had work to do to stop focusing on all the things I didn’t like about myself.
I had to change my life.
Now I had the support of my family to do that.
Mum, Dad, Lewis, and Mor were so concerned after that awful scene, they suggested I speak with someone. Honestly, I felt a ton better just unleashing everything that had been roiling inside me for years. But for them, I agreed to see a therapist.
I had a session a week while I worked on my final season of Young Adult .
And it was my final season.
I’d decided to retire from acting.
While I felt nothing but relief, and with the help of my family and therapy, a sense of excitement about the possibilities of my future, I lost a friendship that mattered to me.
Jasper.
When I refused to sign on for another season of the show, the writers decided it was time to reboot it with a younger cast. The show was, after all, titled Young Adult . Those remaining from the original lineup, including Jasper, were out of a job. And my friend blamed me.
That was crushing.
A person who had stood by me through this crazy business seemed to only find me useful as a friend if I was acting and offering him something in return other than friendship. That awful realization made me more grateful to my family, who had been in constant communication these past few months.
I’d never seen my dad so happy and relieved to see me as when he picked me up at the airport. The showrunner had given me permission to take a long weekend off filming. To be in my brother’s wedding.
The drive from Inverness Airport was the first time Dad and I had been alone since my wee breakdown a few months ago.
“How’s my Eilidh-Bug doing?” he asked as we hit the A9 toward home.
At the endearment, one he hadn’t used since I was a young teen, a swell of emotion filled me. It took me a minute to speak before I reached out and squeezed his arm. “I’m better, Dad. So much better. I have to keep my socials for another eight months to help with the promo of the show’s final season because they buried that in the contract, but once it’s done, I’ll delete my social media and I’m going to try to be just Eilidh again.”
“And it’s definitely what you want?”
“It is.”
“How’s … how’s the therapy going?” he asked tentatively.
“You know I didn’t want to go.” I offered him a dry smile because I’d gone for his and my family’s sake. “But Diana, my therapist, is making me see that I’ve allowed all the shitty things that have been said about me online, in the media, to fester more than I consciously knew.”
His fists tightened around the steering wheel, but Dad didn’t respond. I knew that one of the reasons he hadn’t wanted me to go into acting was because of the fame aspect and the deadly court of public opinion.
“We’ve been talking about how those things have given me a warped sense of self and how I conflated the opinions of strangers with the reality of who I was because I was secretly unhappy with my career choice. I’d turned that unhappiness into failure and catastrophized how big that failure is. She’s making me see that most young people end up not enjoying what they choose as their first career. The difference is the one I chose involved fame, which is a strange beast for anyone to deal with. She’s making me see that it doesn’t mean I’m a failure if I’m not built to handle the scrutiny. It’s so much worse for celebrities now because of social media. Someone will always find a reason to hate you or be outraged, and when it’s on the level I had to deal with, it’s basically mass harassment and bullying masquerading as opinions, and no one can admit that because they genuinely think they’re entitled to say whatever the fuck they want about you. So, long story short, I can’t do fame and social media, and that’s okay.”
Dad’s expression was tender. “She sounds like a very wise woman.”
I nodded, tears burning my eyes. I’d also been extremely emotional since I’d started therapy. It was great for my work on the show but frustrating in real life. Diana told me it was normal. I’d been suppressing my feelings for so long, they were just spilling out of me. “I’m sorry for what I said to you that day. About Francine.”
“You don’t need to apologize, Eilidh-Bug.”
“I do, Dad. I blew that up into something it wasn’t. I know if I’d come to you as Lewis did that you would have told me the truth.”
“I would have.” He cleared his throat. “Eilidh, Francine made a mistake. A big mistake. But she was going through something. Looking back, now that we know more, I often wonder if she had postpartum depression. Her moods, the affair, it was out of character.”
This new information stunned me. “Do you really think so?”
“I don’t know for sure. I do know that your birth mother was a good woman who made a bad decision. I wouldn’t have given our marriage another chance if I hadn’t truly believed that. And you were right, I look at you and I see Francine. Not for negative reasons. I see Francine because you have her coloring. You have her fire. But I also see your uncle Brodan and your uncle Arran when I look at you.” He flashed me a grin. “And I see your mum, Regan, because she brought you up and she instilled you with her kindness. I know you are struggling to see what we see, Eilidh, but you are good and kind. As a little girl, you were the first to stand up to bullies, to make the quiet kids in your class your friend. You spot someone who needs a light shone on them, and you give that to them. You make people feel special. And maybe that’s the reason you can’t handle the negative scrutiny of social media. Because you’re kind to everyone and the injustice of cruel behavior hurts you too much.”
Tears streamed down my cheeks as Dad continued.
“For the past few years, your light has dimmed, and I’ve worried every day that the longer I left you to try to figure things out that I would lose you. That you would lose you.” His voice was gruff with emotion. “So as hard as it was to watch you admit everything you were feeling, as hard as it was to hear how you saw yourself, I’m glad it happened. I’m glad it led to this moment so you can hear about who you really are and hopefully really hear it, Eilidh.”
I swiped at my tears and my now running nose. “Thank you, Daddy,” I whispered. “I love you.”
“I love you more than you’ll ever know, my sweet girl,” he replied hoarsely.
Everyone was at Mum and Dad’s the night before the wedding, so Dad waited patiently in the car for me to fix my makeup before we entered the house. I felt overwhelming love from my family as they all got up to welcome me home.
Uncle Lachlan’s and Uncle Brodan’s hugs were the tightest. “How’s my Eilidh?” Uncle Lachlan asked, not letting me go as I pulled back because he was searching my face, as if he could find the truth for himself. Uncle Brodan stood pressed to his brother’s side, his expression just as probing.
Uncle Lachlan was the first of us Adairs to hit Hollywood. He kind of fell into acting and became an action movie star. That life wasn’t for him, though, so he retired in his midthirties, took the money he’d earned and wisely invested, and created a proposal to turn our family’s ancestral castle and estate into the successful members-only club it was now. He and my uncle Brodan also owned Ardnoch Whisky, one of the most popular whisky distilleries in Scotland. Along the way, he’d married my aunt Robyn, a badass ex-cop from Boston. She was his best friend and the once estranged daughter of Lachlan’s bodyguard, Mac Galbraith. It was very complicated, but Lachlan and Robyn fell madly in love while Robyn was helping to catch the person who’d begun stalking Uncle Lachlan and terrorizing the estate.
Through Robyn, Regan arrived and, of course, Dad fell in love with her, despite the age gap. Thank goodness. Regan was the best mum anyone could ask for.
As for Uncle Brodan, he followed Uncle Lachlan into show business but had become a far more critically acclaimed actor. He’d stayed away from the family for years, and when I was little, I remembered him as the charming, funny uncle I only got to see on special occasions. While he did enjoy acting, he missed his siblings and Ardnoch. When the woman he’d loved and lost as a teen returned to Ardnoch to teach, Uncle Brodan could resist the pull of home no longer.
He and my aunt Monroe fell back in love so quickly, she was pregnant by the end of their first year together. Uncle Brodan, who was already burned out by this point, retired from acting and started managing the whisky distillery.
My dad had gone to them about my breakdown and my uncles reached out to talk to me. Along with Diana, they were extremely helpful in making me see it was okay to realize that acting wasn’t my ideal career. Uncle Lachlan said if he’d had to deal with social media back when he was acting, he wouldn’t have lasted in the movie industry as long as he did.
That was comforting to know.
Just because I’d always liked attention when I was little didn’t mean I could handle the level that had been thrown at me over the course of the past few years. Plus, when I was a kid, that attention had been positive. As my fame increased, the breadth of the negative attention became a monster in the dark of my mind that I’d kept convincing myself I could fight.
I couldn’t.
And there was no shame in knowing your limits. I understood that now.
My uncles had been in contact with me regularly, checking in, reminding me that I was doing the right thing, and I kicked myself for not going to them sooner.
“I’m all good,” I promised them, beaming.
Whatever they saw in my smile made them relax.
“Aye.” Uncle Lachlan cupped my face. “There’s my Eilidh.”
Embracing my family was easy.
Fyfe, not so much.
Seeing him there, looking handsome in the black suit pants and dark cashmere sweater that molded to his strong physique, my pulse fluttered. Though I’d responded to his texts lately, I hadn’t encouraged a return to our old friendship. Fyfe had no idea how I felt about him, and I couldn’t punish him for reacting the way he had to our kiss.
I’d decided to be kinder to him, but for the sake of my heart to keep him at a distance.
We hugged, but I released him quickly, not wanting to feel him against me.
Fyfe appeared relieved by the embrace. Concern hollowed his gaze, though, as he looked me over. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” I turned from him, announcing to the room. “Where’s the champagne?”
Uncle Arran immediately held out a glass to me.
I laughed, grinning. “Ever the bartender.”
He gave me a mock bow. “At your service.”
Raising my glass, I turned to my brother and Callie. “To Lewis! For finally pulling his finger out of his arse to claim the kindest, smartest, prettiest girl in Ardnoch before she realized she could do better.”
Everyone burst into laughter, including the bride-to-be, while Lewis mock glared. I grinned at him and called over the titters, “No, no, in all seriousness … I have the best big brother in the world.” Tears blurred my gaze, and Lewis’s expression turned tender. “No one else but Callie could ever hope to deserve you. I’m so happy you found your way back to each other. I love you both. To Lewis and Callie!”
“To Lewis and Callie!”
My brother crossed the room to pull me into his bear hug. “It’s good to have you back,” he whispered before planting a gruff kiss to the top of my head.
“You too.”
“Love you, Eils.”
“Love you, Lew.”
A few hours later, some of the younger members of our family had dispersed to get sleep before the big day. I was sitting with Mor and Callie. Lewis had gone upstairs to put Harley down. My gorgeous wee niece was staying the night with us because my parents were babysitting.
We were going over last-minute options for our hair tomorrow. Callie had bought a bunch of different clasps, clips, and hair gems, and we were deciding what would work best. I was maid of honor and Mor was a bridesmaid.
Callie’s wedding dress was very boho princess, so I was naysaying the sparkly diamante clips.
“Pearls and flowers,” I said quietly, because we didn’t want to give away anything regarding Callie’s dress.
Mor fingered the diamante star, and I saw the disappointment on her face. Callie looked at me and we shared a silent conversation.
“You know.” I picked up the star and placed it against Mor’s beautiful red hair. “Maybe it would be nice for our bridesmaid to have a point of difference. This would look gorgeous at the top or bottom of a fishtail braid.”
Mor pretended not to be hopeful. “Do you think?”
“Absolutely,” Callie agreed. “I like it.”
My wee sister tried to hide her smile and failed. “Okay.”
A shadow fell over our small group and I looked up, my skin buzzing with awareness at the sight of Fyfe.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
He nodded toward the deck outside. “You got a minute?”
The balcony was lit up in the evening dark. The last time we’d stood out there, it was still summer. But autumn had arrived and so had the shorter days. Not wanting to be disagreeable on the eve of my brother’s wedding, I nodded and stood. Following Fyfe out, I braced against the rush of chilly air.
“Too cold?” Fyfe asked, leaning against the balcony.
I tried not to let my gaze devour his long, strong body as I approached. “A bit. What’s up?”
“We just haven’t had a chance to talk in what feels like ages.”
Settling beside him but with enough distance so we weren’t touching, I said, “I’ve been busy sorting out my life.”
Fyfe heaved a shaky exhale. “Eilidh … I … I’ve been a shit friend.”
My eyes flew to his.
His expression was anguished. “I should have pushed harder, made you admit how you were feeling, asked more, talked you into coming home?—”
I pressed a hand to his arm. “Stop.” My goodness, this man could tear me up. Knowing he cared this much was torture because … it made me hope for more from him. “Nothing or no one could have done that. I needed to hit that point by myself. And I did. I’m doing much better.”
“I can see that.” He reached out to touch my cheek and I forced myself not to react. “You seemed so much more like yourself in there.”
“I’m getting back to that person. But hopefully to a better version of her.” I slowly eased away so it didn’t seem like a rejection. “How are you?”
“I’m not done asking about you. When do you come home?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said you’re retiring. That you’ll be announcing it soon, right? So when do you come home?”
“Oh.” I’d battled with the idea of returning to Ardnoch and landed on splitting my time between here and London. “I’m not. I’m staying in London. While I figure things out. I’ll spend a few months in Ardnoch over the summer, though.”
“You should come home.” He scowled. “You know that’s where you need to be.”
“I know I need to take all the changes that are happening in my life one step at a time,” I replied calmly.
The muscle in his jaw twitched as he turned to glower out at the darkness beyond. We could hear the water crashing against the shore below and see glimmers of waves catching in the half-moon light.
“How are you?” I repeated.
“All right.” He shot me a reluctant smile. “Been worrying about losing those damn wedding rings.”
Fyfe was Lewis’s best man.
I laughed. “The pressure.” Then, because I was a masochist, “Are you bringing a date to the wedding?”
He tensed for a millisecond, shot me a look out of the corner of his eye, and then returned to staring straight ahead. “No. I am … I’m casually seeing someone, though.”
The thought of him with someone other than me was so painful, I had to shut all emotion down.
“It’s not serious.” He turned to me now. “You know I don’t do serious.”
“Right.” I smirked as I created a mental shield between myself and my jealousy.
“We started seeing each other last month. She’s from the US. Here on a work visa until January. We’re just passing the time together. There’s not a huge selection in the Highlands, you know. So it’s just … fun. Can’t invite her to the wedding. It would give her the wrong idea.”
Please stop talking .
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“Aye.”
Fyfe flinched like I’d hit him. “Who? When?”
“Oh, I’m not seeing someone romantically.” I took perverse pleasure in his reaction. “I’m seeing a therapist. Her name is Diana.”
His shoulders seemed to slump with relief. My eyes narrowed. Interesting.
“That’s good. Is it helping?”
“Definitely.” I relayed to him what I’d told Dad, falling so easily into that place of sharing with Fyfe because I couldn’t seem to help myself.
He reached out and curved his hand over mine. “Eilidh … it kills me that you ever felt those things about yourself. Do you not know that your friendship has meant so much to me and to others over the years?”
Friendship.
Bloody friendship.
I smiled tightly and pulled my hand away. “Thank you. I better get back inside. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Fyfe searched my face for a second, then nodded. “Aye. See you tomorrow.”