Chapter 32 Brodan
brODAN
Over the hiss of the frying pan, I heard the cottage door open and shut.
“Ugh, that was the longest first week back at school ever,” Monroe called out, and I could hear her dropping her bags, possibly kicking off her shoes. Anticipation filled me, and I turned to watch her walk through the kitchen doorway.
I’d seen my face plastered over billboards, had hundreds of screaming fans greet me at premieres … but waiting for Monroe Sinclair to come home to me was the dream I couldn’t believe had come true.
She smiled a weary but happy smile. “Something smells good.”
“Chicken fajitas,” I told her seconds before I bent down to kiss the mouth she offered me. “Rough day?”
Roe sighed heavily, and I gestured to the glass of wine I’d already poured for her.
“You are my hero.” She took the glass and leaned against the counter, pushing her hair off her face.
“It was like the kids were bouncing off the walls . I mean, we all knew the first day back after Christmas would be bad, it always is … but this lasted the whole bloody week. Hyper doesn’t even cover it. ”
I nodded, my gaze dancing between her and the chicken spice mix in the frying pan.
“Thane got a phone call from the school this week about Eilidh. Apparently, another girl was bullying Eilidh’s wee pal about what she got, or didn’t get, for Christmas.
So Eilidh took it upon herself to smack her across the face. Is it wrong that I’m proud of her?”
Monroe shoved me playfully. “You better not have told her that, Brodan Adair.”
“What? That I’m proud my niece stood up for her friend?”
“It’s not that simple, and you know it. She can’t go around smacking people in the face, no matter how much they deserve it.”
I grinned. “That’s a terrible rule.”
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Anyway, I heard about it from Eilidh’s teacher. It was quite a moment. Apparently, the girl was stunned. And while we can’t condone physical violence, perhaps she’ll think twice about tormenting people who have less than she does.”
“Aye. According to Thane, Eilidh was just as surprised by the moment as anyone. She cried, the wee darling. She knows she did wrong.”
Monroe moved closer to me. “I love how you love her.”
The words Do you love how I love you? hung on the tip of my tongue, but I forced them back. It had been two weeks since I told Monroe I loved her. I’d said it once more, and she hadn’t said it back. While it stung, I understood. And I could wait.
“Dinner is ready.” I took the pan off the heat and spooned the chicken into the tortillas I’d laid out.
“Do you know how amazing it is to come home after a hard week at work to a sexy man cooking dinner?” Monroe teased gleefully as she threw toppings onto her fajitas. “Where did you learn to cook?”
“I played a chef in a movie once.”
“Oh, aye, I remember that one. It was a horror film, right? Kind of gross, if I remember correctly.” She wrinkled her nose.
An ache panged in my chest. Over the last few months, I’d realized from the bits and pieces Roe told me that she’d probably watched every single one of my films. I never teased her about it because if things were the other way around, I would have watched every one of her films too.
And it would have killed me to see her but feel so disconnected.
I cleared my throat. “Aye, it was a horror about a sous chef my character hires who starts putting human—”
“Ick, don’t. Eating.” She took a massive bite of fajita to make her point, and I snorted.
“Anyway,” I said, following her into the living room with my dinner, “the director wanted me to take some culinary lessons, so I looked like I knew what I was doing. A top British chef trained me on how to slice and dice like a real chef, and I got him to give me some cooking tips and recipes. He said I was a natural.”
“Of course you are.” She sat down, her feet curled under her. “You’re good at anything you put your mind to.”
“Do you think so?” I asked in all seriousness.
Catching my tone, Roe swallowed her bite and asked, “What’s going on?”
What was going on was that I was ready to fully commit to Ardnoch, and sitting around waiting for someone to like the screenplay I’d written would not cut it as a job.
I’d been busy this week and had made two very big decisions that I knew I had to run by Monroe.
I hoped that she’d be sharing in them in some capacity or another.
Then there was a third issue concerning her entirely that I needed to raise.
“Three things. One is that I’ve been working with Thane for the past few weeks on drawings for a house. ”
She stopped eating; her eyes widened a little.
I forged ahead, feeling more nervous than I thought I would be at this moment.
“As part of our inheritance, Lachlan divided up some land in Caelmore so we’d all have a plot to build a house.
My plot is close to Arran’s and Arro’s plots.
View right over the water. The build will be in keeping with my brothers’ and sister’s homes.
A large family home, modern design, lots of glass overlooking the water. ”
Roe swallowed. “That’s … that’s … amazing.”
“You think?”
“Of course.”
“I’d … I’d like you to look at the drawings. I’d like your opinion.” Because I hope like hell this will be your home as much as it is mine.
She nodded slowly. “I’d be happy to look at them.”
“I really want your opinion, Sunset.”
Whatever she saw in my expression made realization dawn in hers. Her lips formed an O. Then the breath whooshed out of her. “Brodan … I … you know I haven’t decided to stay …”
Hurt flared, but I tried not to show it. “Aye, I know. But just in case you do.”
At the sudden, sad uncertainty on her face, I changed the subject. “Two, Lachlan and I looked at our holdings, and we think we’ve found some land that would work well for a distillery. Lachlan wants to go into business with me, and so I’m gearing up to do all the research.”
Her gorgeous smile was genuine. “Brodan, that’s wonderful news! I’m so excited for you. I think a whisky from you and Lachlan would be a massive hit. You have a hook already for your advertising. It’ll be fantastic.”
“You think so?” A flood of anticipation rushed through me at the thought of running a business I loved—and doing it at home. It would bring more jobs and boost the local economy too.
“Of course I do.” She reached over and squeezed my leg. “Like I said, you can do anything you put your mind to.”
That was what I was banking on.
And not for the distillery.
I was banking on my ability to fill Monroe Sinclair’s life with so many bloody good times, she’d never think of leaving me.
But there was something else we needed to discuss. And this one I wasn’t looking forward to. We talked more about Roe’s week at school, our plans for the weekend, and once we’d finished dinner and were sitting together on the sofa, I broached the subject.
“There’s that third thing I wanted to discuss. Something I need to tell you.”
She turned toward me, our faces inches apart. “You sound serious. Have you decided to open a woolen mill as well as a distillery?”
At her teasing, I tickled her ribs and she squealed, trying to get away. Laughing, I pulled her into my arms. “Quit wriggling.”
“Don’t tickle me, then.” Roe pouted, and I stole a quick kiss because her mouth was right there and that was reason enough. When I pulled back, I brushed her hair off her face, hating that she was about to lose that happy, almost dreamy expression.
“Are you ready to talk about your dad?”
She stiffened in my arms. But she didn’t pull away.
Instead, the shadows I hated so much crept into her gray eyes, and she answered quietly, “I do want to find him, Brodan. Maybe … maybe finding his grave … maybe I can still say goodbye. Maybe I can still forgive him. If that’s what he wanted.
I have to believe that’s what he wanted. ”
Lifting my arse off the couch, I pulled out the piece of paper that had been burning a hole in my back pocket, and I held it out to her. It had the address of a cemetery in Dumfries and Galloway on it. “I found him for you.”
A small gasp escaped her as she took the paper. She devoured the words on it. “What was he doing that far south?”
“I don’t know.”
“Brodan, how did you find him?”
“I have contacts. People who know how to find people.”
Tears pooled in her eyes, but they didn’t spill over as she whispered, “Thank you. Thank you so much.” She threw her arms around me and mine banded around her, holding her to me, almost afraid to let go.
I breathed in the scent of the citrus that lingered in her hair from her shampoo.
I just … breathed her in, holding her there. Afraid to exhale.
A few hours later, the fire crackled in the fireplace and Roe lay naked, her back to my chest, on the couch. She drew lazy circles on my forearm as I held her, and we listened to the silence only broken by the pop of flames.
Peace unlike anything I remembered settled over me. I’d made love to the woman I loved after a night of conversation about everything and nothing. For the first time in eighteen years, I wasn’t chasing this empty feeling inside. With her in my arms, I felt whole.
“I never imagined I could ever be this happy,” I confessed.
Monroe turned her head, her hair tickling my chest as she looked up at me. “Are you scared, Brodan?”
The fear tightened like a fist around my throat, and I could only nod.
“Me too,” she admitted.
Then she moved in my arms, turning to straddle me. Cupping my nape in her hands, she whispered, “I want to hold on, though. Will you hold on with me?”
In answer, I wrapped my arms around and pulled her close, burying my face in the crook of her neck. I’d hold on for fucking forever now. That’s not what terrified me. What terrified me was what happened if she slipped from my hold or was yanked away from me by forces stronger than my grip?
Fuck.
I took a calming breath, reminding myself that it was that kind of thinking that cost us eighteen years together.
We had to take one day at a time.
One day at a time.
And maybe, I’d eventually settle into the feeling of being genuinely happy for the first time in my life.