Chapter 47
It had been only a couple of months since she and Euan had become official, and things between them were good—better than good.
But Sage still carried a knot of unease whenever Blair's name came up.
Their encounters so far had been uncomfortable, leaving Sage feeling defensive long after.
Still, she'd surprised herself one night by saying, "Maybe Blair should come over for dinner. With Hamish."
Before she could snatch them back, Euan was smiling, relieved. "Aye, that'd be grand."
And so, the evening came. Blair came with Hamish one evening, a bottle of wine tucked under his arm, both of them smelling faintly of chips and beer after the long drive from the Highlands.
Hamish was tall and soft-spoken, with an easy smile that won David over in minutes.
Before the plates were cleared, the two of them were already deep in conversation about gaming rigs and football scores, trading jokes like old mates.
Meanwhile, Euan kept flicking nervous glances between Sage and Blair, as though expecting an explosion at any moment.
Blair sat straight-backed at the table, her answers clipped, one word at a time, her fork picking neatly at the lasagna.
She really is a striking girl, Sage thought.
Not just pretty, but beautiful, with her hair coloured back to a soft natural brown that framed her face in waves.
It took Sage a while to realise that the stiffness was nerves.
Trying to break the silence, Sage set down her glass and smiled. "So...how's your hotel management course going?"
Blair's shoulders eased a fraction. "It's grand," she said, a touch of pride softening her voice. "We've got this placement scheme, so I'm working at the resort part-time. Long hours, aye, but it's good experience. I've been learning reception, bookings, even a bit of events management."
"That sounds...full-on," Sage said, her smile a bit stiff before warming again. "But exciting, too."
Blair gave a small shrug. "It keeps me busy. Not many people in my year have had proper front-of-house experience."
Sage nodded quickly, eager to keep the thread alive.
"That's impressive. I wouldn't know where to start with that kind of work.
I've just started a permanent job at the hospice.
..admin, mostly. Filing, booking rotas, that kind of thing.
I thought it'd be dull, but"—she gave a sheepish laugh—"turns out I'm actually good at it.
Organising things, keeping everyone on track. Cracking the whip."
Blair tilted her head, studying her. "Aye, that suits you." Her tone was cautious, but there was no edge to it this time.
"It's not glamorous," Sage admitted, "but it feels good to be useful."
Blair fiddled with the stem of her glass, then glanced up through her lashes. "I've got...plans. For the inn—my parents' place in Pitlochry."
Sage blinked, surprised. "The one I first stayed in?"
Blair nodded, cheeks colouring faintly. "Aye.
It's a bit tired, you ken? I keep thinking I could do something with it.
Refurb the rooms, push for more weddings, maybe even a spa package.
Make it a proper destination." She gave a nervous laugh, as though embarrassed by her ambition.
"My logic says it's daft, but...I can see it, you know? "
Sage found herself smiling, a genuine warmth stealing over her nerves. "That doesn't sound daft at all; it sounds brilliant. Honestly, I'd come back in a heartbeat."
Blair's lips twitched into the faintest smile, and for the first time that night, the silence between them didn't feel so heavy.
When the men inevitably trooped upstairs to the console after a half hearted offer to help with the cleanup, voices raised in delight over the latest Assassin's Creed, Sage and Blair were left to clear the table.
Blair's gaze shifted, catching on Sage's hand. "That ring's lovely," she said softly.
Sage glanced down, fiddled with the band, and managed a smile. "Thank you."
The silence stretched again, heavier this time, until Sage swallowed hard and blurted, "I'm pregnant." Her voice wavered, and she immediately wished she could snatch the words back. She had no idea what she'd been expecting—a cutting remark, a cold shrug, another wall thrown up.
Instead, Blair's eyes widened, then softened, a shimmer of tears making them brighter.
"We don’t want to know if it is a boy or a girl," she said quickly, fumbling to fill the space, twisting the ring on her finger. "But...we both think it's a girl."
Blair snorted and rolled her eyes, the gesture so ‘Euan’, it startled Sage into a smile. "Och, don't be daft. It'll be a boy. Trust me."
The dry certainty in her voice cracked the tension clean in half. Sage let out a shaky laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. "You sound very sure."
"I am," Blair said simply, and for the first time that evening, her lips tugged into a small, genuine smile.
She pressed her lips together, seemed to draw a deep breath and then whispered, "I've been awful to you.
I know it. And I'm sorry." Her voice cracked, but she pushed through.
"I'm happy Euan found you; you're good for him.
Even if we don't have much in common, I am sorry I was such a cunt.
.. Oh sorry... I mean...I... Sorry I was rude. "
The sincerity in her voice stole Sage's breath. For the first time, she saw past the stiff posture, the guarded glances, to the girl underneath—all of twenty-two, uncertain, and trying for her uncle.
Sage reached across the table, laid her hand over Blair's. "That means a lot. Thank you."
Upstairs, laughter rang out, Hamish and David whooping at some victory. The sound filled the quiet between the two women, softening it, making it bearable. And Sage thought that maybe, just maybe, she and Blair might find a way to meet in the middle.
It was a boy.
Eight pounds, three ounces, with a cry that rattled the theatre walls and made Sage's eyes sting. She lay on the table, conscious but trembling, the blue drape rising in front of her. Euan, pale as parchment, had suspiciously wet eyes.
The pregnancy had been almost unnervingly smooth.
Sage had expected complications, especially at her age, but apart from the occasional ache and craving, she'd sailed through.
Euan had hovered like a mother hen throughout.
Still, when the time came, the consultants didn't risk it, planning a scheduled C-section at 38 weeks.
Euan sat rigid in the little consultation room as the tiny lady doctor explained, brisk and precise, the procedure and risks.
His eyes widened in panic as she calmly listed them.
"Excessive bleeding is uncommon, but it may require a blood transfusion in severe cases, or possibly further surgery to stop the bleeding."
Euan's throat bobbed.
"Deep vein thrombosis, very rare, but a blood clot in your leg could be dangerous if it travelled to the lungs."
His face had started to lose colour.
"And finally, there's a small risk of damage to the tubes that connect the kidneys to the bladder."
By then he was greenish about the edges, glancing from the doctor to Sage, who felt about the size of a circus tent in her maternity dress, perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed.
He looked ready to faint on the spot, but instead he croaked, "Maybe we should just..
.let the bairn cook a while longer, aye? "
"Don't be daft, Euan," Sage shot back, exasperated. "How much longer do you think the baby should ‘cook’?"
He swallowed hard, trying to muster some authority, but his voice came out weak. "Och, a few more weeks?"
The doctor, biting her lip, was clearly trying not to laugh. "Mr. Robertson, I can assure you, the baby has cooked quite enough."
Sage rolled her eyes. Euan leaned back in his chair, muttering under his breath about how no one had warned him it would be this complicated, while the doctor scribbled notes with a smile she couldn't quite hide.
The Caesarean section went as planned. She'd been conscious throughout, a thin blue drape cutting the world in half, the sterile lights buzzing overhead.
When the anaesthetist showed Euan the spinal needle, his face drained of colour.
They'd found him a chair just in time, and Sage, seeing him bent double with his head between his knees, started laughing so hard that the anaesthetist muttered, "Stop shaking, please.
You're making my job impossible." It had only made her laugh harder.
Nervous laughter, bright and bubbling, echoed strangely in the theatre.
The surgery took hardly any time. And then the cry came—strong, furious and demanding.
Eight pounds, three ounces. A squalling miracle laid briefly against her chest before being carried to Euan, who held him in those huge hands as if he were spun glass.
His eyes shone wetly, his jaw working as though he couldn't quite find the words.
He didn't leave Sage's side, even as the theatre bustled and the surgeons stitched her neat and careful.
Later, back in her room, Sage eased against the pillows, drowsy from the drugs.
She had been ravenous and had polished off the meal while Euan kept up the running commentary.
David had come by with a onesie which Euan refused to show Sage because he said it was 'inappropriate'.
Too soon, David reluctantly left because he had mock exams. She'd just finished nursing, her body aching and bewildered by the changes, when she looked over to see Euan still staring at their son.
His massive arms cradled the baby, the contrast almost comical, the tiny blue bundle tucked against his chest. The steady rise and fall of Euan's breath betrayed how tightly he was holding himself together.
"He's...perfect," Euan whispered, voice cracking. "I can't believe he's ours."
Sage closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her like a calming balm.
Blair was on her way. Sage braced herself, smoothing her hair with trembling fingers. The door opened to reveal Blair with Hamish at her side.
"Congratulations." Blair's Scottish burr sounded a bit wobbly and subdued. She hesitated, then added stiffly, "He is so beautiful. May I hold him?"
Euan surrendered him, with instructions like he was an expert at holding babies.
Blair tucked the little baby in her arms and watched him pout. "Told ya it'd be a lad."
Euan beamed between them, clearly delighted by the truce.
They spoke a little about the baby's name, about Euan's performance in theatre. Now, there was a flicker of understanding there—a tentative bridge that Sage hoped would grow to be more in the future.
As Blair left, she touched Sage's shoulder briefly, almost awkwardly, but with a warmth that hadn't been there before.
And Sage, watching her go, thought maybe, just maybe, things would be different now.