24. Chapter 24
Chapter 24
Shit Hits the Fan
After a few fruitless hours at work, Lachlan drove the quiet, narrow road of the coastline, hoping to clear his head. He knew Orlagh meant well, but she’d struck a nerve. Between his traitorous thoughts and his sister’s words beating through his mind, he struggled to think clearly about anything. He cranked The Beatles—a pleasurable torment. The Beatles’ music might forever remind him of that time he spent a damn-near perfect evening with the most beguiling woman.
It was early evening when he finally unlocked his front door, and Sally greeted him, shimmying so aggressively it defied her size. He bent down and ruffled her ears as he let his forehead rest for a moment on hers. He could always count on Sally—faithful girl. “Come on, Sal. Let’s go for a walk.”
Lachlan chucked a ball down the deserted stretch of beach, and Sally bolted after it, kicking up sand and water in her wake. The storm that had threatened passed, and the sun peeked out just in time to kiss the sea good night.
Lachlan breathed deeply, the familiar briny sea air helping set him at ease. After Helena died, he spent many hours walking along the beach, trying to come to terms with the loss. As time went on, he realized he’d never get over losing her. None of his family would, but they learned to live with the loss. There was the life they led before Helena died, and the life they led now that was vastly different—and yet so much remained the same. How odd it was to be the same person after a loved one's death and yet be so utterly changed at the same time.
In the beginning, every day was an impossible battle. Lachlan would work or be cooking dinner, and in brief moments, he’d almost forget. Then, suddenly, reality would strike. She was gone, and then the grief would wash over him again as if he’d not yet grieved at all.
As soon as he felt his wounded heart was healing, something would remind him of her, of the life lost, of the hollow left behind, and it was as though his heart was flayed open yet again. But as time marched on, his heart managed to hang onto the healing for longer periods. The lashings to his heart became less frequent, although no less painful. He missed her. What he wouldn’t give to talk to her right now.
What would Helena think of Violet? He knew—she would’ve liked her. Violet was so real and spirited. Helena would’ve appreciated that about her. He picked up Sally's ball, throwing it far down the beach again and watched her bound after it in the evening twilight.
And what of Anna? Would Helena have liked her? He knew the answer to that, too.
"Come on, girl. Let's get ye some supper," Lachlan called to Sally. As they made their way back to the house, Lachlan made the decision. It was time to end things with Anna. Maybe past time.
She'd messaged him before he’d met Orlagh for lunch, saying she was planning to be back tomorrow. Lachlan decided that he would meet with her and end it. He didn't relish the idea of breaking up, and he hoped there would be no hard feelings. But with every step he took, his resolve fortified. Aye, this was the right decision .
In the quarter of an hour it took to get back to the house, Lachlan's mind had started to buzz with plans for a side project he'd taken on but hadn't been focused on as of late.
Before Helena had died, she spent much of her time giving riding lessons to kids. She used to talk about wanting to open up a horse sanctuary of sorts for children. A place where they could be around horses and learn to ride. She especially wanted it for the kids who would not otherwise get the chance. She often talked about the effect of the horses on the children. How even the kids with attitudes would warm up and seemed to find a sense of connection, spending time at stables. Helena was right. Horses were therapeutic and not just for kids.
Years back, he'd had the idea to build the sanctuary Helena had dreamed of. He’d been so busy with the distillery that it had just idled in the back of his mind until a few months back.
Orlagh had been babysitting her friend's five-year-old daughter and brought her to see the horses at his house. She was only a wee thing and had been nervous of the big beasts hiding behind Lachlan with the back of his trousers fisted in her little hands. Not that he'd admit it, but the gesture melted him. He scooped her up with reassuring words and watched as the child followed his lead, putting a hand on Edelweiss's snout.
In no time, her little confidence grew, and by the time Orlagh took her home, she was begging to stay with her new horsey friends . As he watched the little girl looking longingly out the window from the backseat of Orlagh's car as she pulled away, Lachlan knew it was time to start building Helena's dream. Ideas flooded his mind so steadily that he barely slept for the better part of two weeks. Around that time, he started seeing Anna, and as much as he was still working to get it going on the side, he'd lost his focus.
Stepping up to his side door, he was taking inventory in his head for the next steps when he caught a glimpse of a car in the driveway, and his heart and mood sank: Anna. Walking in the side door to the kitchen, he scooped kibble into Sally's bowl and felt the tension creep into his shoulders and neck as he went to greet his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend.
When he didn't find her on the main floor, he made his way up the curved staircase. "Anna," he called out, but there was no answer. Seeing his bedroom door ajar, he gently knocked on the door before opening it to find her standing in a black sheer chemise with some fluffy fur or something on the bottom of it. It should have tempted him, but it didn't. His only thought was how over-the-top French fashion could be. The hardness of his cock, which he'd almost grown accustomed to during Violet's brief stay with him, was notably absent.
"Ye utter prick!" Anna's words were as sharp as a slap to the face. She held a white piece of paper in her hand. Lachlan could see it had writing on it, and belatedly, it dawned on him—Violet. She must have left it there when she'd gone up to gather her things this morning.
The near overwhelming desire to read it was perhaps normal. The desire to smell it and even touch his tongue to it to see if held any traces of her taste, surely was not. When he drew his gaze back to Anna, she was deftly throwing daggers at him with her eyes. Christ, what could he say? Although he hadn't cheated, he very much felt like he had. He didn't have words of reassurance for her.
"I willnae claim innocence, although I assure ye it's no' what ye think. I'll leave ye to get dressed, and we can talk downstairs.”
Apparently, that was not the right thing to say, as the very next moment she flopped down on the bed with her shoulders drooping heavily, an exaggerated pout on her face, and the note carelessly discarded. Lachlan struggled to tear his gaze away from where it lay on the floor by the bed.
"Lachlan." Anna's voice calmed, capriciously. Then she dropped back against his pillows, theatrically throwing an arm up across her forehead. "I wasnae the perfect angel in France either," she sighed melodramatically.
Lachlan knew her confession should have at least some effect on him, but he felt unmoved. He should want to know what happened, but he found he didn't want to know at all—and not because it would bother him. It was that he was impassive. He didn't care. He was officially checked out of this relationship and already wondering how he could have possibly ever been checked in.
She sat up straighter and looked at him, holding her hands in her lap like a pupil in school. "It's not surprising, really," she explained. "We are about to take the next step in our relationship. It's only natural we'd have one last fling before settling down.”
That sentiment pissed him off. What kind of shite logic was that?
"It makes total sense. We both cracked under the pressure of knowing we were about to commit to each other. It’s a big step, after all, moving in together.”
She was right. It was a massive step! He struggled to fathom how they’d thought they’d gotten to it. Looking at Anna now, he realized their relationship had been surface-level at best. Did they even know each other at all? He couldn’t help but think of Violet. In just over a day, they’d forged a connection that ran deeper than Loch-fucking-ness. It was a stark comparison.
“I think we were testing the waters to be sure we were making the right decision."
Lachlan’s focus snapped back to the present. The more she spoke, the more she looked like she was buying into her own pish explanation.
"I ken, with complete certainty now, I only want to be with ye, Lachlan. We make sense together, aye?” She said it rhetorically like she didn't need an answer from him.
“No."
"Oh, dinnae be silly," she cut him off. "If I ken forgive ye , I'm sure ye can forgive me too, aye? And as a bonus of this little experiment, I realize just how lucky of a lass I am," she purred and her gaze dropped to his crotch. She stroked the black fluffy stuff on her negligee with a gleam in her eyes that reminded him of Cruella de Vil in 101 Dalmatians , petting her coat while daydreaming about her nefarious plans. "We are even, Lachlan, and now we can move on from this and find our happily ever after."
Lachlan was too distracted by the note lying discarded on the floor to respond.
"I ken I said I hated France, but I ended up in Paris and fell in love with it. It really is such a romantic city, and ye ken what I was thinking? It's the perfect place for a destination wedding.” She swooned. "If I started planning now, we could huv a fall wedding there. Oh, can you imagine? I could even shop for my dress there!"
Lachlan stood back, unable to comprehend how she could be so delusional. The veil had dropped, as it were, and he felt like he was truly seeing her for the first time. Lachlan felt like he'd entered some kind of hellish twilight zone. Suddenly, he understood what it was that Orlagh had seen in Anna. The woman was self-absorbed. One dimensional.
"Stop. Enough." He couldn't listen to another word. "I dinnae want this, Anna. I dinnae want any of it. We are no' good together, and if anything, this past weekend just proves it."
“We both had a fling. It’s nothing. Dinnae let it ruin us.” She got off the bed and, as if in one final attempt to convince him, reached out to touch his face, but he caught her wrist between them.
“For the record, I dinnae huv a fling, but it doesnae matter. It’s no’ about that. We were never good together. No’ really.” That was painfully clear to him now.
“How can ye say that?” Her features contorted into an ugly sneer, and she bit out, “Was she that good of a lay?”
Lachlan shook his head and almost laughed. He had no doubt that aye, she was that good of a lay, but unfortunately, he didn’t have first-hand knowledge. “We are done. Ye can gather yer things. I’ll be downstairs," he said, with finality, and he turned, striding out of the room with her cursing from behind him.
Coming down the stairs, anger emanated off her like steam from a rooftop in the cold of winter. She barely spared him a glance as her high heels clacked obnoxiously on the slate floor, and she stormed out the front door.
Lachlan felt completely spent by the time Anna left. He didn't like how tense things had gotten. He'd imagined a more diplomatic finish to the relationship, but he couldn't deny that he was relieved it was over and done with. Exhausted, he fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. It wasn't until the morning that he realized the note from Violet was gone.