Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
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I think we’re both conscious of how quickly our time together is passing, and making the most of it.
We’ve been out on a boat trip, we’ve been swimming in the sea, and I took Kate for a ride on one of Rory’s motorcycles.
Turns out he’s the kind of sculptor who makes things out of metal, which is pretty macho for an artist, and he also has an actual Harley-Davidson, which Kate said made her feel like she was in Sons of Anarchy.
That was an image I was happy to run with, and led to a fun encounter in a secluded heather-covered spot up in the hills.
‘Wow,’ she’d said afterwards, laughing as we pulled our clothes back on. ‘That was one for the history books! I’m going to miss all of this…’
She’d gestured at the view in front of us, but I know she meant more than that. She’d blushed, looked awkward, and turned away from me so I couldn’t see her eyes. I wanted to grab her, pull her down into my arms, tell her everything was going to be okay.
I didn’t, because I have no clue if that’s true or not.
We’ve both very deliberately lived in the moment since we’ve been here, but we’re running out of moments.
Shannon’s visit was awesome, and the bookstore is going great guns.
It’s been even busier than usual there, and I’m starting to see what Kate saw even on that tough first day when the place was a wreck – that it is at the very heart of this community, the store and the books and just as importantly Moira and the warmth she brings to it all.
I’ve been a part of that, but now looming on the horizon is the end of it all.
At least for me, and if Moira sells up, also for the bookstore.
I have a job interview lined up, and I haven’t seen my folks for too long now.
I should be ready to go home. Ready to move on from this.
Except, well, I guess I haven’t exactly ever been the King of Moving On.
It took a total life change and a random note inside a book to get me to even look at another woman, five years after Sandy died.
‘You okay?’ I’d said, tugging on my boots.
‘Yep! All good! I just…’
‘Had something in your eye?’ I asked, as she swiped at her cheeks. She nodded vigorously, clutching on to the lame joke. ‘Exactly that.’
It was as close as we came to having a proper conversation about the future, and frankly it was nowhere near to being a conversation.
I don’t want to put any pressure on her, and I don’t even know what I want myself.
Thinking about leaving almost breaks me, but thinking about staying seems difficult.
There are practicalities, there are issues, there are…
who am I kidding? I’m going to miss her, and if we lived in the same country, maybe more would come of this.
As it stands, we live thousands of miles apart, and maybe that’s been part of the appeal.
This hasn’t felt real at all, not for one second. It’s been a whirlwind of sex and pleasure and achievement. In all likelihood, it wouldn’t withstand the challenge of the long-term.
Still, today, as we walk along the harbour hand in hand, off to the store, I can’t quite imagine saying goodbye to all of this. To the place, the people, mainly to the woman at my side – currently fizzing with excitement at spotting a pod of dolphins out at sea.
‘Look at them!’ she says brightly, her face lit up. ‘They’re amazing! You don’t see that in London!’
‘Chicago neither. We’re lucky.’
She nods, and draws us to a halt. She slides her hands around my neck, and pulls me in for a kiss. It’s long and deep and promising, and I groan when she finally moves away.
‘Too right we are,’ she says, grinning. ‘And if you play your cards right, you might get even luckier…’
I shake my head and follow. I’ve already got lucky twice today. Maybe it’s a good thing I’m going, I’m not sure how long I can keep this up for. I’ll need intravenous vitamins, and possibly an oxygen mask.
I look on as she chats to Xander, coming back into harbour with his fishing boat.
They laugh, and she hits him playfully on the shoulder.
A sudden thought pierces my brain with as much subtlety as an ice pick through the skull: what happens after I leave?
What if she stays, and takes all her newfound confidence and zest for life, and decides to use it?
He’s obviously always liked her. Plus he’s not the only man in Bonnie Bay, or Scotland, or London… jeez, I hate the thought of it so much.
I have to steer clear of them both and stride past with nothing but a nod, because Xander looks way too handsome, and way too eligible, and way too present. He’s a decent guy, and he doesn’t deserve the fury I’m feeling towards him right now.
I let myself into the bookstore, slamming the door open so hard the bell vibrates in protest. I walk right over to a pile of hardback atlases.
It’s next to a cute display that Kate worked on, arranging our travel books and nature guides in the shape of a globe, alongside leaflets for local walks and wildlife tours.
I pick up one of the atlases, and slam it against the mantelpiece repeatedly. I’ll pay for it later.
By the time she walks into the room, I’m almost calm again. Her eyes go from me to the book, a small frown on her face.
‘Everything all right?’ she asks, eyebrow raised. ‘Did you get in a fight with that atlas?’
‘Yeah. It called me a mean name. Coffee?’
‘No thanks. I’m not feeling like coffee for some reason. A nice mug of tea would be good, though, if you remember how to make it?’
I do. I’ve made approximately seven million of them since I’ve been here. I’m going to blow my tough guy image back home, asking for a nice cup of Earl Grey.
She follows me through into the back rooms, stands with her hands on her hips, looking around.
I know she sees a future for this place beyond it becoming a hotel, and she’s spoken a few times about what a good event space it would make.
She’s worked wonders so far, so I take her word for it, not being a man who attends many poetry readings.
The logistics would be fine, with the addition of a few more facilities and maybe one of the walls knocking through.
I could probably do it, with a little help…
‘I won’t be here,’ I say, not realising until she looks at me that I said it out loud.
‘Brawling with books, and now talking to yourself, Brody? What’s going on with you?’
Her head tilts to one side, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder, hazel eyes shining.
It wouldn’t surprise me if she was a selkie after all.
It unleashes something in me, and I take hold of her arms, push her back against the wall and kiss her so thoroughly that she’s left clinging on to me for support.
Her hands move to my ass, and I’m considering pulling up her long skirt and bending her over the table when the damn bell rings again.
‘Fuck!’ I mutter, earning a surprised look. Her cheeks are flushed, her pupils dilated, and I’ve never wanted anyone more in my entire life.
‘Goodness me,’ she says, the prim words at odds with the desire in her eyes, ‘you are in a strange mood today! Not that I’m complaining… hold that thought!’
I wait a few moments before I walk through.
I’m in no fit state to meet a member of the public.
I find her chatting to James Fraser, the developer who wants to buy this place from Moira.
I try to keep the glare off my face, because it’s not his fault he walked in on something.
Note to self: leave the door locked next time.
‘James is looking for a nice gift for his nephew,’ Kate tells me. ‘I was thinking maybe that illustrated copy of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe? Could you get it for me, along with a couple of others from the top shelf?’
I nod and do as I’m told. Stupid James. Stupid nephew.
Stupid damn books. Stupid me, most of all – she’s right, I am in a strange mood.
I feel like a teenager, full of hormones, pumped up with need and want and no idea what to do with it all.
Not just because I got cock-blocked by James, but because I’m starting to feel the tug of this place.
Of her. Of a future we’ve never even discussed.
Kate shows him the books, and he decides to take the C.S.
Lewis, telling us all about his ten-year-old nephew, Alastair, as she wraps it up for him.
‘He’s more into Minecraft than the classics, but we can only try!
’ he says as he pays. He looks around, taking in all the changes, and adds: ‘This place really is looking good…’
I wonder if he’s seeing it through the eyes of a businessman, figuring out the bottom line, the profit and loss.
I hate the idea of it closing in September.
Yet another thing about me that’s changed – if you’d told me a few months ago I’d get a kick out of hanging in a bookstore, no way I’d have believed it.
‘It does, doesn’t it?’ Kate replies, smiling proudly. ‘Actually I was going to ask you, James, if you have businesses outside hotels?’
‘A couple of restaurants, and a few micro-pubs, but mainly hotels. Why do you ask?’
‘Well,’ she says, gesturing around her, ‘it’s not for me to suggest…’
‘But you’re going to anyway?’ he asks, returning her smile.
‘I suppose I am. I’ve been thinking about how, with a bit of a refurb, this could be so much more. How it could be a great place for events.’
He nods, and chews his lip as he assesses. ‘You’re thinking music, author visits, that kind of thing?’