Chapter 14
Fourteen
EILIDH
Present day
L ast week the cast and crew of Young Adult held a wrap party at a London hotel. I hadn’t wanted to attend because I didn’t feel welcome by the cast, but the showrunner insisted I celebrate my part in making the show successful.
It was a mistake. Not all the cast were arseholes to me. In fact, most of them weren’t. They understood that I wasn’t just giving up the show. I was giving up my career, and if I was doing that, then this is what I needed. I was grateful to them.
I was devastated that Jasper wasn’t one of them. That my friend who had experienced the craziness of obscurity to instant fame right along with me was acting like a spoiled, entitled, petulant stranger.
He wouldn’t look at me at the party, wouldn’t talk to or acknowledge me. It had been like this on set, but luckily the antagonism had translated well to the screen.
The night before last, I’d returned to my flat to find the door already open and Jasper lounging drunkenly on my sofa.
“What are you doing here?” I’d asked, wary of that nasty look in his eyes.
He’d stood up, wobbling unsteadily as he threw keys at me. I ducked just before they hit my face. “What the fuck?” I cried angrily.
“Just returning your keysh,” he slurred. “Don’t need them no more.”
“Fine. Get out.”
“I protected you!” Jasper yelled, tears filling his eyes. “Anytime you needed me, I protected you and thish is how you repays me?” He swayed, somehow managing to glare and blink rapidly at the same time. “I have nothing without thish show. Wesht End. Thatsh all the offers I’m getting. Fucking Wesht End.”
“Then you should take the offers,” I replied. “Those are good offers. And the other jobs will come in. It just takes time. But I won’t apologize again for choosing to leave. If you were any friend, you’d understand that.”
“I undershtand shit.” He spat at me as he stumbled past. “I undershtand that the pershon I need to get through all thish shit is abandoning me.”
“Jasper, I will never abandon you. I’m always here.”
“Fuck that. You’re already gone.” He slammed out of my flat before I could stop him.
Diana and I spoke about Jasper’s reaction. She’d made me see the narcissism in his response. Deciding I didn’t need anyone making me feel bad about myself when I’d been working so hard for the past nine months to love myself again, I hadn’t gone after him. Maybe it was selfish. But I comforted myself with the knowledge that Jasper was acting even more selfishly.
It was March. I had no jobs lined up. Last month, I’d announced my retirement on social media. Or at least my team had. I didn’t look at the comments. My team would take care of my socials until Young Adult aired and then I could delete myself from all those platforms. The thought filled me with overwhelming relief. Yes, there was this deep-seated fear that I’d never reach the same success in life again (the pressure of having reached the pinnacle of success in my early twenties was not lost on me), but I felt mostly relief. I knew I wouldn’t automatically become some anonymous person. Yet over time, I had hope that most people would forget me. That I could walk down the street without being recognized or stalked by paparazzi.
Grabbing my laptop, I settled at the dining table and opened my screenplay. I’d finished writing two episodes of the TV show inspired by Ardnoch Estate. I could send it to my agent, but I still didn’t feel confident enough in it. Uncle Brodan had dabbled in screenwriting—I could share it with him. But there was someone else I’d thought about sending it to.
Theo Cavendish.
He was Mum’s friend Sarah’s husband. Sarah was a famous crime fiction writer who had worked at the estate as a housekeeper all the while making millions off her independently published crime series. She eventually left Ardnoch to start living her life as a writer out in the open. Theo was a well-known and respected screenwriter and producer and an estate member. He and Sarah had fallen in love while adapting her series for screen. They were not the most obvious pairing. Sarah had always been a shy, quiet woman, and Theo was this intimidating, scorchingly hot aristocratic playboy. Yet I’d never seen a man more in love.
He was still intimidating, though.
But he was honest and I respected him.
If he thought my screenplay was good, then it would buoy my confidence.
I could email him, but it might be better to talk to him face-to-face. Which I could do now, since I was home.
But I needed time.
I needed patience with myself. Just some time to … merely be . And yes, I knew I was privileged to take that time. Most people had to keep working through life and its struggles. Most people also hadn’t experienced the amount of international pressure I’d dealt with.
I needed time to enjoy writing, enjoy my family, without all that other stuff clouding my mind. Ultimately, I’d decided to give up London. Ardnoch was where I wanted to be, so I didn’t sign another rental agreement on my flat. My landlord Peter practically begged me to stay and offered me a longer term of rent control. I’d thanked him but packed up all my belongings. Most of it was in storage while I moved back into my childhood home.
The sea breeze fluttered over me as I rested my arms against the balcony railing on the deck of my parents’ house. Being home was all about fresh starts. With everyone. Mum and Dad had redecorated the annex knowing I was coming home, and I was bravely facing my fears of the space. Last night was my first night in the detached guest suite, and it took me a while to fall asleep. But I was determined to persevere. The guest annex allowed me to be near my family while still providing some privacy. Of course, I could get my own place now that I was home, but I wasn’t ready to do that either.
They’d even set up a desk for me so I could write. Once I told them what my aspirations were, they threw themselves into supporting me. Not only was there a desk but there were notepads and a cork pin board above the desk with pins and empty note cards all ready for my thoughts and ideas.
An ache moved through me as I stared out at the North Sea. Years. I’d kept myself from them for years. No wonder I’d been miserable. I’d separated myself from the people who made me whole.
Yet despite our reunion, there was still an emptiness in me.
It had a name.
Fyfe Moray.
His warm dark eyes filled my mind and I flushed, remembering the last time we were together. I’d avoided my brother’s best friend for six months. Ever since he kissed me at Lewis and Callie’s wedding and then blamed it on alcohol again. Fyfe had tried calling. For weeks and weeks. About six weeks in, he gave up. He sent me a text promising he’d leave me alone and reiterating how sorry he was.
Ignoring Fyfe wasn’t part of my new approach to life. No, avoiding him was temporary. I needed to deal with all this other stuff first and fully intended to have a serious discussion with him upon my return home.
I knew Fyfe was terrified of commitment.
I also knew we were drawn together. That there was a connection between us neither could deny. And I was done denying it. I was going to admit my feelings to Fyfe. Either he’d reciprocate and together we’d deal with how that affected Lewis … or he’d reject me. The latter would hurt like a motherfucker. But I’d have my answer and I could move on.
I was done with being dishonest with myself and others.
Butterflies erupted in my belly as I pushed away from the balcony and turned to open the sliding doors to the living room. Stepping inside, I shut it behind me and locked up. Mor was at school, Mum was at the childcare center she ran, and Dad was at his office in Inverness.
The house was empty, but their warmth still lingered. Mor had asked me a question about the William Shakespeare project she was doing for English, and I’d helped her with it over breakfast. She’d hugged me before she left for school and it had felt wonderful. Mum had fluttered around us all, multitasking like a boss, taking care of us even as she readied herself for work. Between helping Mor, I’d watched her and Dad in the kitchen. She stopped what she was doing to tie his tie for him and then he’d handed her a coffee as she offered him a plate of scrambled eggs on toast. Afterward, he’d taken both their plates to wash them and urged her out of the kitchen to finish getting ready for the day.
Before Dad left for work, because he thought Mor and I were preoccupied, he’d kissed Mum thoroughly. When she was flushed and smiling, dimples appearing, he dropped a tender kiss on the tip of her nose and just stared at her for a few seconds. Like she was a miracle.
After all these years.
I’d returned my focus to Mor because I was afraid I might burst into tears. Ones of happiness for my parents. Maybe ones of sadness and longing for myself.
I think because … I knew what the outcome of my quest would be today.
And I still intended to do it.
Fyfe was not at home.
I tried calling him, but it rang out so I called Lewis instead.
“He’s at my place,” my brother told me. “There’s some new security system he wants to install. We told him the one we have is good enough, but ever since those guys broke in without him knowing, he’s paranoid.”
Lewis referred to the Frenchmen who had been looking for a piece of vital evidence Callie’s police officer ex-boyfriend had hidden in a gift. They’d ransacked my brother and sister-in-law’s beautiful home. It didn’t surprise me Fyfe still held guilt about the fact that he’d been charged with installing their security, but he hadn’t gotten it up and running when the break-in occurred.
“Is he still there?”
“Aye, he just got there.”
“Is he alone?”
“Callie and Harley are at the bakery. Why?”
“I just need to talk to him about something. Thanks.” I hung up before he could pester me for more details.
Thankfully, the drive to Lewis and Callie’s wasn’t that far from Fyfe’s. My dad had designed my brother’s home for a wealthy client who ran into financial difficulties and had to sell the spectacular house for a steal.
It was situated on a small piece of private land, nestled in woodland, between Ardnoch and Golspie. The modern midcentury home was designed so that the living space was upstairs and the bedrooms downstairs. On the first floor there were two walls made entirely of glass. With woodland at the back of the home, the living space emulated the experience of being in a treehouse. The stairs brought you up into the kitchen, and beyond that was a living and dining area.
Off the dining area, Dad had designed an oversized square window box you could sit in. There were windows on all three sides and it literally felt like you were hanging in the trees. Below you could see the twinkle of water from the man-made moat around the house. Water was taken from a downhill stream on the back of the property through underground pipes and pumped into the moat, where propeller turbines attached to a hydropower system created hydroelectricity to power the home. There was also a bank of solar panels out front where there were no trees to block the sunlight.
On the ground floor were four bedrooms. The primary suite had a floor-to-ceiling window that abutted the moat so while lying in bed, it was like being on a boat. Similar to the primary suite, Harley’s nursery had a floor-to-ceiling window so you could see the moat that surrounded the house. Lewis, Walker, and my family had decorated the nursery for Callie before Harley arrived and it looked like a fairy glen.
The house was a dream and a beautiful representation of my father’s imagination and talent. I was a little envious my brother owned it, but I was also happy for him, Callie, and my niece. They got to raise Harley in a magical place, in a house filled with love.
Sure enough, a vehicle was parked outside my brother’s dreamy home. A Volvo SUV I didn’t recognize. It had to be Fyfe’s. Those butterflies returned in force as I got out of my borrowed Range Rover, my legs shaky. If I was staying in Ardnoch, I’d need a car. The infrastructure for driving electric was rubbish up here, but Dad and Regan had hybrid cars and had installed their own electric charging point at home. Maybe I could do the same. The random thought of car buying was a good distraction as nerves unlike anything I’d experienced shivered through me.
During auditions, there had always been butterflies, but the good kind. I was one of those lucky people who didn’t get stage fright and enjoyed an audition.
This was not that.
I clenched and unclenched my trembling fingers before pushing open the front door. “Hello!” I called as I stepped into the house.
“Who’s there?” Fyfe’s deep voice called from upstairs. The first floor was pretty much a mezzanine level so you could hear everything happening up there from the ground floor hall.
“It’s me,” I said as I began walking upstairs. “Eilidh.”
Footsteps hurried toward me and then Fyfe was in view as I climbed.
He wore his glasses today and a rush of nostalgia moved over me as I stepped off the stairs and into the open-plan living space.
Fyfe gaped like he hadn’t seen me in years. “Eilidh,” he breathed my name.
He held an iPad that he lowered to his side as he continued to stare.
Not quite sure what to do with my body, I strode into the living space so I could stare out at the treetops. “How are you?”
“I … Aye, I’m fine. It’s … I tried … I tried calling.”
I turned to face him again.
Fyfe set the iPad down on the kitchen island and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. The movement caused the Henley he wore to stretch around his powerful biceps. His strong features were neutral, his expression not giving much away. But his eyes gleamed with questions behind the dark frames.
He looked hot with his glasses on. “You should wear your glasses more often.”
Fyfe raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
I nodded. “I always liked your glasses.” A noise downstairs made me freeze. “Is there someone else here?”
Fyfe glanced over his shoulder. “There’s no one here. I left a window open in one of the bedrooms while I was mapping it for the new system. It probably blew the door shut. Remind me to close it before I leave.”
“Oh.” I guess my nerves were making me jumpy.
“So. Is that why you’re here? To tell me I should wear my glasses more often?”
Nausea roiled in my stomach again and I took a deep breath. “No. I came to tell you something.”
His arms dropped to his sides. “Okay?”
Where to start? Where to start? I didn’t know what to do with my arms. I was an actor. Whenever I had a monologue, I knew exactly what to do with my body. But I had no idea how to keep my legs from buckling as I laid bare my heart to this man.
I strode toward him but stopped at the end of the island so I could lean against it for support. “I’m sorry for not answering your calls or texts. I never intended to ignore you forever. I just needed to deal with tying up my old life first.”
Fyfe scowled. “You couldn’t tell me that? Eilidh, I’ve been miserable for six months thinking I’d fucked things up between us for good. All the while lying to Lewis. I told him we were good friends and then all of a sudden we’re not talking. I lied and told him we were still in contact.”
There was a part of me, a selfish part, that was annoyed we were talking about Lewis. “Can we just focus on us and leave my brother out of this for a second?”
Fyfe pressed his lips together. I didn’t know what his expression meant. Disapproval. Compliance. Who knew?
I continued, “I am sorry. But maybe once I tell you what’s in my heart and mind, you’ll understand why I just needed some time.”
“Six months is a hell of a lot of time, just saying.”
“Fyfe.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry. Continue.”
“First … are you and the American still together?” I’d dreaded knowing, so I hadn’t asked Callie or Lewis about it.
Fyfe frowned. “No. Of course not. We stopped seeing each other last October.”
Oh.
After the wedding?
Why?
Because of our kiss?
Hope fluttered through me. I sucked in a shaky breath. “Since we were kids, you, everyone, has waved off my feelings for you like they were nothing. ‘Oh, it’s just Eilidh being a flirt.’” I smiled sadly and watched Fyfe tense, gaze alert. “But I wasn’t just being a flirt.” My stomach whooshed. Here goes nothing . Or everything, in fact. “I have loved you, Fyfe Moray, in some capacity since I was a wee girl. And the reason it hurt so much for you to kiss me and then immediately regret it is because I’m in love with you.”
I released another shaky exhale as his eyes widened. “I loved you as a kid and then I fell in love with you again when we became friends as adults. Every day I woke up feeling more alive than I had in a long time because I knew I’d get to talk to you. And when that went away, when I pushed you away after overhearing you tell Lewis our friendship was nothing … it was so unbearable being without you, I couldn’t even acknowledge it. You kissing me at my place and then again at his wedding and blaming both moments on alcohol … I reacted the way I did because I’m in love with you and it hurts to think that maybe all that’s between us … well, that for you … is it only physical attraction for you?”
There.
I’d said it.
I shook against the counter as he wrenched his gaze from mine and stalked across the room. Fyfe dragged a hand through his hair, his fingers clenching in the thick strands. It was the pose of a man in anguish.
I braced myself.