Chapter 8 #2
I was never sure if my parents were happy, exactly, or simply a product of the time and place, where marriage and babies were the norm and divorce wasn’t a consideration. Dad had been hard on us but rarely raised his voice. Why bother when his disappointment could be levelled with a single look?
I tried to imagine going through that alone, without my siblings to share the load.
I cleared my throat. “That sounds rough.”
She shrugged. “It’s done now. We don’t talk often.”
We drove the rest of the way up the winding road in uncomfortable silence. The kind that came after baring something deeply personal.
If you wanted someone to explain stage two Hodgkin lymphoma in layman’s terms, I was your guy. But emotional honesty . . . I’d never quite picked up the skill. It shouldn’t matter. The reason I wanted Isla in my car was to discuss my offer for her, not open up her childhood trauma.
By the time I pulled into the drive, she’d pressed or turned every button and dial on the dashboard. My hazards were still flashing when I clicked off the engine.
“Sorry for rambling about my very alive parents when your dad is—”
“Dead?”
“Exactly.” She unclicked her belt. “I would say thanks for the ride, but I didn’t ask so . . .”
“Wait. I . . . uh . . . I needed to talk to you about something.” Reckless. Stupid. I tamped that inner voice down.
She paused, the door half open and the interior light illuminated. “Related to my childhood-trauma dump?”
“The furthest thing from it.”
“And here I was thinking you’d given me a ride out of the goodness of your heart.”
“I almost always have an ulterior motive,” I said honestly.
She leaned back into her seat with a wry smile. “Well, that’s unsettling. I need to get my own back . . .” Her fingers drummed against her thigh as she considered. “I could tell you about my first period? Really make this car ride memorable.”
“That’s child’s play.” We were getting way off-track. I couldn’t seem to wrangle us back. Didn’t want to. “Got anything better?”
“How I lost my virginity? It’s a boring story though.”
I froze. The interior light flicked off, plunging us into dusky shadow.
Don’t ask, don’t ask. It would definitely be weird to ask. “Try me.”
I watched her tongue swipe over her lips, her next breath trembling out of her.
“Let’s just say he had roommates and slept on a very squeaky futon.
He also had this weird poster on his ceiling of a mushroom smoking a spliff, and I kept accidentally making eye contact with it, and afterwards, I couldn’t stop wondering if I’d lost my virginity to Cameron or a hallucinating mushroom. ”
We hit the moment I was supposed to start laughing, but I felt like I’d been socked in the stomach.
Cameron. She’d lost her virginity to Cameron Smith, who’d once squeezed his entire head into an extra-large condom on the school bus.
Had she been with anyone but him? I already knew the answer.
I didn’t know Cameron that well. He’d been two years below me at school, in Mal’s class. Mal had never particularly liked him. Now, I was pretty sure I hated him.
“You’re a strange person,” I finally said.
She didn’t disagree, just stared at the semi-detached cottages. “What did you want to talk about? Jess is watching Teddy for me, and I don’t want to keep her waiting much longer.”
I took a breath, deciding to just go for it. “I think we should start dating. It wouldn’t be real, obviously,” I said quickly, wanting to get it all out there before she answered. “Rather, a mutually beneficial arrangement for the two of us over the summer.”
It was like watching a street mime as her expression moved from shock to horror, then back again. “You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
“Doctor humour?”
“It wouldn’t make for a very amusing joke.”
“It would actually.” She shifted away, as if hoping I wouldn’t notice if she silently backed out of the vehicle. “Why? I’m pretty sure we’d both rather take the centre spot in a human centipede than spend an extended period of time together.”
I barked out a reluctant laugh. Fuck, did she have to be funny? “Trust me, you wouldn’t be my pick either. It’s not like we’re attracted to each other.” I must have grown used to lying, because it rolled off my tongue far too easily.
“Let’s hear it then.” She folded her arms, tilting her pointed little chin up as she stared at me. I stared right back, not following her line of thought.
“Your pitch. I assume that’s why you gave me a lift.”
Straight to business. I could work with that. “It turns out I’m not very likeable.”
“No!” she gasped.
It shouldn’t have been cute when the joke was at my expense. Was that why I was drawn to her? Because she and her kid distracted me from whatever hateful thought was bashing around my head at that moment?
“What do your social deficiencies have to do with me?”
I glanced back at the house, scrubbing a hand over my jaw.
My turn to be honest. “We’ve had some pretty shitty patient feedback at the surgery, and I need to get the scores up.
That means I need the people of Kinleith to like me, and they clearly like you, even if it’s in a sad Little Orphan Annie kind of way. ”
She laughed, placing her hands to her chest in faux flattery.
“Woah! Cool it with the compliments, Alistair, or I might be in real danger of falling in love with you.” I shouldn’t have looked.
It absolutely wasn’t an invitation to look.
But the action, accompanied by her statement, stole my control.
My gaze dropped over the curved lines of her vest top, that cardigan slipping down her shoulder, before I could wrestle it back.
“There’s a greater chance of gravity failing.
” It was supposed to be sarcastic, but my tone was far too gravelled for it to land.
My eyes flicked back to hers, and we stared at each other until my lungs felt like I was freediving.
I forced myself to speak again. “You need this just as much as I do.”
“How d’you figure?”
“Your ex broke up with you in a pretty brutal way—”
Her head jerked. “Oh, did he really? I’d forgotten.”
Okay, maybe that wasn’t the most tactful thing I’d ever said. “All I mean is, people look at you like you’re a glass vase ready to shatter. Don’t you want Cameron to know you aren’t at home crying into your pillow every night? To wipe that self-satisfied look off Annabelle’s face?”
“I’m not crying into my pillow every night.” True, I’d probably have heard it through my wall if she was.
“Doesn’t matter. He thinks you are.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Because Cameron has always been an arrogant wee shit, even in high school. I doubt he’s changed much over the past nineteen years.”
The silence was palpable. I knew I had her; I just needed one final push. “If you agreed, we could enter the Cairn I’m trying to display good partnership skills.”
“You might want to work on that.” She pushed the door fully open and jumped down from the seat. “Goodnight, Alistair.”
I tried not to stare as she walked to her front door, her insane curves highlighted by those ridiculous jeans.
Fuck. This was a bad idea.
But I was set on this course. So much so that, as I dried off after my shower later that evening, I sent a quick text. I need a favour.
I was pulling on shorts when Heather replied. Is it a kidney? Answer’s no because you never text me back.
I need Isla’s number, I replied.
Gross. Do I even want to know what’s going on with you two? One minute she can’t stand you, the next you’re on your knees at the committee meeting.
Probably not.
Isla’s number appeared a second later. I saved it to my contacts, then messaged her, Made a decision yet?
I heard the ping through the wall beside my bed, over the sound of a soft guitar solo.
My gut clenched. Was her bed also pushed against the paper-thin wall? I had the strangest urge to press my hand to it. Then my phone vibrated. My mum told me not to talk to strange men.
It’s Alistair.
Proof please.
I frowned and typed, How am I supposed to prove it?
A photo should do it.
I snapped a quick picture of my neatly made bed. Hit send.
Please, every man in the middle of a midlife crisis has those navy bedsheets.
I felt my smile. Ignored it as I typed: Fuck off.
A selfie or nothing, she wrote back quickly.
Flipping the camera I took a quick picture. Shirt off. And hit send before I could think better of it.
A bang sounded through the wall. Something heavy hitting the floor.
Then a few seconds later. I didn’t mean nudes. Yuck.
You can’t even see my nipples.
Type nipples one more time and I’ll block you for sexual harassment.
I lay down on my bed and typed: Noted. Then, Is that a yes then?
We agreed I had until tomorrow.
The delay is pointless when you’re going to say yes, I wrote.
How could you know that?
Because you’re a great baker and deserve the prize money. A second later I added, And because you’re too nice for your own good.
No, I’m not. Another bang. Definitely a balled-up fist hitting the wall.
I grinned and knocked back. Didn’t mean to offend you.
Cameron always said I was too nice, that I let people walk all over me.
Then prove him wrong.