Chapter 34 Monroe
MONROE
Inoticed nothing out of the ordinary that morning when I got my coffee from Flora’s, but I was distracted because I hadn’t told Brodan I loved him yet.
For the past few days, I’d allowed myself to be waylaid by other things, and it was pure nonsense on my part.
I loved him. I loved Brodan. There was no denying it, so what was the point in not telling him? Ugh, I had to get it together.
Tonight, I promised myself. I would tell him tonight come hell or high water.
Having made that decision just in time for the kids coming in that morning, I was more cognizant of my surroundings, and I noted that, not only did colleagues I passed in the hall look at me strangely, but parents beyond the waiting children were grouped together, whispering and staring.
I thought maybe I was being paranoid … but nope.
They were definitely a lot of parents eyeballing me as I welcomed the kids inside the building at the sound of the bell.
Once the kids were settled, I shrugged off the strange feeling until a teaching assistant from P4 came into my class to ask a question on behalf of her teacher.
She stared hard at me, eyes a wee bit round and dazed.
What on earth?
Finally, when I walked into the staff room at break and all talking ceased upon my arrival, my indignation rose. I strode toward Ellen. “Right, what’s going on?” I asked her.
She raised an eyebrow at my tone. “What are you talking about?”
“Everybody staring at me and whispering. Have I done something?”
Ellen looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Monroe, I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She genuinely didn’t seem to.
Someone cleared their throat behind me, and I turned to see Summer Smith, the young P2 teacher, holding out her phone. She gave me a sheepish smile. “I think this might be why.”
Frowning, I took her phone, and as soon as I read the screen, my stomach plummeted.
It was an article on a national tabloid’s website with the headline, “Star Finds Love in the Highlands,” along with a great big bloody photograph of Brodan kissing me passionately on Castle Street, near the cottage.
Smaller images followed of us walking down the street arm in arm.
I looked tiny next to him. It was almost funny.
In one of them, I was laughing at something he’d said, looking straight ahead while he gazed down at me with such tenderness, my breath caught.
Anyone looking at that photo would know he loved me.
It took me a moment to drag my eyes from the photograph to the article. I sped-read the story, and dread filled me as they named a familiar social media influencer as their source for the original story. I clicked on the link, and her profile opened.
Harriet Bloody Blume.
I’d met her last summer, and she’d tried to get me to spill details about the Adairs.
Seeing the picture of Brodan and me on her grid, I clicked it and opened a video in which she sat with books in her background. Uncaring that everyone in the staff room could hear, I listened as she spewed lies.
Panic built up from my gut until my heart raced way too hard.
Sweat slickened my palm as I listened to the vicious wee cow tell her five million followers, and thus the world, that I’d talked to her exclusively.
And someone—say, Brodan—might believe her because she had details about our relationship.
She knew we were friends since school. She knew I’d loved him and that he’d left.
She knew I felt abandoned by him. And now she knew we were dating and living together in the cottage on Castle Street.
That I spent Christmas and New Year’s with his family. That we were serious.
How did she know all these things?
“She’s lying,” I whispered, feeling a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I didn’t tell her any of this. She’s lying.”
But Brodan … What if he didn’t believe me? What if he thought Harriet was telling the truth? He’d jumped to conclusions before. He’d hated me before.
Oh my God.
He’d hate me for this.
Nausea rose inside me, and I just managed to give Summer her phone back before I dashed from the room and across the hall into the bathroom. I fell before the nearest toilet and threw up all my fear and humiliation.
brODAN
Arran had the Gloaming looking like a million dollars.
I walked downstairs from inspecting the vacant rooms he’d redone and wandered through the restaurant to the bar.
My brother was behind it, cleaning glasses, and there were only a few patrons in at this time of the day.
A fire crackled in the large hearth at the back, giving the dark, historic room life and warmth.
“I’m proud of you,” I said as I slid onto a stool at the bar. “The place looks like a boutique, not an inn.”
Arran grinned. “Aye, well, it seems to have worked because we’re fully booked May through October.”
“That’s amazing, Arr. Seriously.”
“Thanks, Bro. You want anything?”
“Aye, give us an Irn-Bru. Then I’ll need to go in a bit. I’m heading into Inverness to finalize drawings with Thane for the house.”
Arran considered this. “So … how does your agent feel now about your retirement?”
“In denial.” I shrugged. “I’ve spoken to my publicist, though, and we’re getting ready to announce it.”
“And you’re happy?”
Looking my brother straight in the eye, I answered honestly, “For years, I thought I loved acting. I got a high from it. But I’d confused loving the escape for love of the actual job.
Deciding to retire … being home with you lot, being with Monroe …
it’s like this massive weight I was carrying has lifted from my shoulders. I feel free, Arran.”
Arran relaxed with relief. “I couldn’t be happier to hear that. I’m glad you’re home.”
“I’m glad you are.”
He chuckled. “Aye, did you ever think you and I would return home to become one-woman blokes?”
“Never,” I admitted. “It scares the shit out of me. But it’s worth it.”
My phone dinged in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see a text from my publicist, Annie.
We need to talk.
Beneath her text was a link. I clicked it, and a video of Harriet Blume opened. I pushed the volume up, and I felt my brother stop what he was doing as we listened to the social media influencer.
Fuck.
My anger built as images of Monroe and me on Castle Street filled the screen. Private fucking moments.
Not that I wasn’t used to the tabloids sharing private moments … but this was different. This was Monroe.
Arran had rounded the bar to watch the video, and he sucked in a breath.
“No, Bro, this is that wee snake who was hanging around last summer. I came across her harassing Monroe, and Roe was definitely keeping her mouth shut even then, and that was before you and she had reconciled. There’s no way she gave this viper any of this information. ”
A different fury filled me as I turned to my brother, who staunchly defended Roe … like I’d believe a stranger over the woman I loved. “I fucking know that.” I glared at him. “Do you think I’d trust a celebrity vlogger over Roe?”
My brother held up his hands defensively. “Of course not. Sorry.”
“But someone told that brat about us.” I quickly googled my name and, sure enough, article after article popped up about me and Monroe.
I pushed off the stool. “This is everywhere. And the vlogger knows things that only the people here would know. Someone talked. So much for this village keeping our privacy, eh?”
“Where are you going?” Arran hurried after me as I marched toward the door.
“To Roe. It’s everywhere, Arran. She probably knows and is freaking out at school.”
I tried to drive as calmly as possible to the primary school, while I called Thane to explain the bloody mess. He was as angry on my behalf, and he promised we’d get to the bottom of it. Whoever talked, we’d find them.
When I got to the school, however, the receptionist told me Roe had already left early because she was sick.
What the hell?
I tried calling her as I drove back toward Castle Street, but her phone was going straight to voicemail. My worry and fury mingled. I was desperate to get to her.
Seeing her car parked in her spot made me feel better as I drove the Range Rover in beside it. I threw myself out of the car and jogged around the building and into the cottage.
Roe was on the sofa facing the door, her face chalk white as I barged inside. She shot up from her seat and raised trembling hands. “Brodan, I promise it wasn’t me. She’s lying. I know she knows things about us she shouldn’t, but it wasn’t me. She’s lying.”
At the begging, pleading tone, at the fear and panic in her glazed eyes … my heart crashed in my chest.
It scared her I believed Harriet Blume.
What the fuck?
For a moment, I wanted to be angry, but gazing at the woman I loved in distress, I took a few calming breaths and thought about why she’d think that.
And decided … why wouldn’t she think that? After the way I’d treated her in the past.
I could see it clear as day in front of me.
The damage I’d done. It hadn’t just magically disappeared because I told her I loved her.
I strode across the room, and her eyes widened before I pulled her into my arms and kissed the top of her head, holding her so bloody tight. “My love, I know. I know,” I assured her.
Her trembling body melted and she sobbed against me.
Fuck!
“I know, I know,” I kept whispering. “I know you’d never do that. Come on, Sunset. It’s all right. You’re killing me here.” My voice cracked as emotion thickened my throat.
Her hands clutched at my jacket, pulling on it hard as she tried to soothe her cries. “I’m sorry,” she managed through tears. “I’m sorry for thinking … for thinking you wouldn’t believe me.”
I rested my cheek on top of her head. “I’m sorry for giving you reason to doubt me.”
She shifted as if to pull back, so I lifted my head. She tilted her chin. “I won’t again. I … I love you, Brodan. Since I was twelve years old, I have been in love with you.”
Relief and joy cut through my darker emotions, and I kissed her. I kissed her as if that one kiss might keep her with me forever. “I love you too,” I whispered against her now swollen lips.
“I know who told her.”
That made me jerk back from her. “Who?”
Anger lit her eyes, but there was also the shadow of fear there. That just made me want to kill someone. Turning, she reached for a piece of card on the coffee table and handed it to me. “This was posted through the letter box. No stamp. It was hand delivered.”
I took the card.
Handwritten across it were the words:
Enjoy the fame, bitch. That’s what you get for sending thugs to my door.
Understanding dawned. Steven Shaw.
“I’m going to destroy the bastard,” I growled slowly.
“Brodan, no.” Monroe yanked the card out of my hand, expression mulish.
“I told him things when we were together. Before I realized he was a prick. I told him I knew you, that we grew up together, that I loved you. I didn’t tell him everything, but I told him enough.
At the time, I honestly didn’t think he believed me.
But when you sent him that message after the Christmas card—”
“He realized it was all true.” My eyes flew to the window. “He must have been watching us, Roe. He took those photos.”
“And sold the story to Harriet.”
Furious, I glowered at her. “And you want me to just sit by and let him get away with it?”
She gestured with the card. “Look what antagonizing him did. He’s a sociopath, Brodan. Giving him attention is what he feeds off. We just need to ignore him.”
“Ignore him? Everyone and their uncle knows about us, Roe.”
“Wouldn’t it have come out, eventually?”
“Aye, of course. But in a way I could somewhat control.”
“It’s done.” She dropped the card on the table and pressed her hands to my chest. “I don’t want to give him or her any more of our time.” Roe’s expression softened with amazement. “We love each other, Brodan. It took us over two decades to get here. I don’t want anything to ruin that.”
For her, I tried to let my anger go. I enclosed her in my arms again. “All right.”
She sighed with relief and burrowed her head against my chest.
Then I remembered the receptionist at her school. “The school said you went home because you were sick?”
Roe pulled back, expression sheepish. “I found out in the staff room about the articles and the video … I got so panicked, I threw up.”
“Fuck.” My rage returned.
“Brodan. Please. I’m okay.”
I clasped her face in my hands. “We trust each other now, right? Going forward … nothing but love and trust.”
She nodded, happiness cutting through the shadows in her eyes. “Nothing but love and trust.”