Chapter 19 #2
‘You could,’ he agrees, observing the area. ‘The courtyard needs a bit of a clear-up, so we’d need to start with that. We could store the bins in my shop for the evening to give a bit more space.’
We. The two-letter word makes me want to throw myself at Rory MacGregor.
‘You’re going to help me?’ I ask, quietly. ‘Don’t you have somewhere better to be tonight?’
‘I was going to go to my own support group, but I can skip it to help.’
‘The pub?’
He nods.
‘I could buy you a drink once we’ve sorted here?’
‘I’ll hold you to that.’
Rory hands me a pair of gardening gloves from his shop and I start pulling at the weeds. He takes the floor brush and sets to work, bin bag in hand, before disappearing inside mumbling about a power washer.
Within a couple of hours, the whole space has been transformed. After adding a few garden lights from his store, Rory nips home and comes back with a sideboard that he explains might work as a pop-up bar.
‘Grab the other end,’ he calls, as we lift it from the boot of his car.
We haul it into the courtyard and, sure enough, it looks perfect.
‘I’ve got some fizz left over from the launch. I can leave some glasses out here and people can help themselves as they mingle,’ I say, running my hand along the tall, narrow wooden unit.
Rory nods, wiping the sweat from his brow. ‘Great. Speaking of fizz, is it time for that drink yet?’
‘Sure.’
‘Oh, I’ve got a small table and chairs set in the shop,’ he says. ‘That could work out here. Let me get it.’
I collect a bottle of Prosecco from my flat and meet him outside, where he’s set up the garden furniture. Under the twinkling lights, it almost looks romantic.
‘Have a seat,’ he gestures.
I sit across from him and pop the bottle open. ‘I want to say thank you for helping me, even if you think the breakup bookshop is a stupid idea.’
He shakes his head. ‘Look, I’m the stupid one. Everyone loves it and it’s bringing people together to talk about how they feel. What could be better than that?’
‘The pub?’ I suggest, and he laughs as I hand him the glass.
‘At least there aren’t any midges in the pub,’ he says, waving his hand around to get rid of the insects buzzing around him. ‘That’s one thing you need to watch out for up here. Hold on, I’ve got a citronella candle; that’ll scare them off.’
Rory dashes back into the shop and emerges with a lit candle in his hand. He places it between us on the small table.
‘Good timing,’ I say. ‘It’s going to be dark soon too.’
‘Were you familiar with the humble Scottish midgie from your previous visits to Ullapool?’ he asks.
‘My granny never swore, but she used to curse the midgies like something fierce.’
I picture Granny tearing around the back garden in her dressing gown and slippers, armed with a can of bug spray.
In my mind, I’m watching her from the book nook in the back garden, all cosy in a sleeping bag under the stars sparkling in the night sky.
My laugh echoes around the garden as she calls them ‘wee bisums’ before declaring it bedtime.
The familiar pang of regret reminds me that I’ve not been to see Granny’s cottage yet, but I still don’t feel ready.
I have to swallow back the tears tonight, just from the memory of her.
I can’t imagine seeing the place in real life and having to contend with the flood of memories.
‘They’re wee bastards, alright,’ he says. ‘But the candle seems to be doing the trick.’
Rory stands up to observe the courtyard, just as I stand up to fetch some snacks from the kitchen.
After the sudden surge of emotion prompted by thoughts of Granny and the glass of Prosecco, I am unsteady on my feet.
But he’s right in front of me, strong and secure.
As I wobble a little, he puts a hand on each arm to steady me.
My heart thuds in my chest as he looks deep into my eyes.
‘You okay?’ he whispers, hands still on my arms.
I try and make light of it. ‘You’ll need to put all of this on my tab. Seriously, the garden gloves, the solar lights, the candle, everything.’
He shakes his head. ‘Don’t worry. It’s good to see the courtyard area come to life. I’ve never seen it looking so good.’
But he isn’t looking at the courtyard. He leans towards me, his eyes fixed on my lips.
It is like the moment on the boat all over again, but this time there is no hyper child to interrupt us.
Memories of the other times we’ve been close flood through my mind, from the ceilidh where he led me through the steps with expert precision, to the moment when I’d embraced him at the bookshop opening.
I haven’t been imagining this. Rory is here, barely a breath between us, and he is about to kiss me.
His hand lightly touches my arm again and I feel my whole body spring to attention.
As soon as his mouth meets mine, I melt into him and his kiss.
For so long, I’d refused to let myself think of this, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize I’d hoped it would happen.
I wrap my hands around the back of Rory’s neck as he pulls me close to him.
I move my head back for a moment and he follows suit, grinning at me, before launching back into the kiss.
I haven’t been kissed like this in so long, I’d forgotten how good it feels to have someone so close.
So present. He presses closer to me, his hands running through my hair before they trace the curve of my spine.
Right now, I am lost, so completely lost, to Rory MacGregor.
Here we are, kissing in the courtyard, like the two frisky teenagers we’d chased from this very space, and I never want it to end.
‘Rory?’
We ignore the voice calling his name.
‘Rory!’
The voice again. Surely they will go away.
‘Shit,’ Rory whispers. ‘It’s Margaret.’
‘You were supposed to come over after work,’ she calls from behind the courtyard wall. ‘To look at the lump in my carpet.’
‘Fuck,’ Rory murmurs as he pulls away from me. He holds me close, leans in again, and pecks me lightly on the lips before moving to open the courtyard door. I bite my bottom lip, still feeling the warmth of his kiss.
‘I’ll be right over,’ he calls. ‘Just had a few bits to finish up here.’
‘Well, I’m usually in my bed by now,’ she calls accusingly. ‘What’s kept you?’
‘I’ll be there in two minutes.’
I arch an eyebrow as he moves back towards me. I think he’s going to give me a light peck on the lips again and say goodbye. Instead, he cups my face and pulls me towards him for a deeper, more sensual kiss. I sink into his arms until he pulls away.
‘That’s one way of killing the mood, thinking of Margaret and her lumpy carpet. Look, I’ve got to go,’ he breathes, stroking the back of my neck with one of his fingers. ‘But I’ll be back.’
‘Tonight?’ I respond, my voice croaking.
He isn’t about to leave me hanging like this, is he?
Rory shakes his head. ‘I can’t. I’ve got to get back to Piper. I’ll see you tomorrow, though. And the day after that.’
I nod, while my body screams inwardly. ‘To be continued.’