CHAPTER NINETEEN ~ ABBY ~ NOW
When I joked a few weeks ago about spiralling into an existential crisis, I was only partially kidding. It had recently occurred to me I was having far more Big Feelings about turning thirty-five than I experienced before I turned thirty.
Toward the end of my twenties, things were going well in my life.
I liked the apartment I lived in, I still loved my job, I got to see Drew and Brodie regularly, and Graeme and I were still close, although not as close as we once were.
I was even casually dating after being single for most of my twenties.
Nothing ever turned serious, but I was hopeful the right person would come along, despite the voice in my head that maintained he had, and he was living across the ocean.
Life seemed full of possibilities then, and it should feel that way now too.
With everything falling apart in my life, I’ve been given a clean slate of sorts, a chance to start fresh.
I could change careers, move to a new city, start dating again, try new hobbies.
Fern would say the world is my oyster. So why do I feel more like a turtle with its head in its shell, afraid of what’s beyond?
I’ve been letting fear and uncertainty—along with the sting of disappointment and failure—get to me.
Amidst all the doubts about my future, one thing I know for sure is I have the world’s greatest friends.
The five of us spent the morning in Portobello, checking out the high street before ending up on the beach.
After that, Morna took Drew, Fern, and me for afternoon tea at the Georgian Tea Room at The Dome, followed by a visit to the Royal Botanic Gardens.
Now it’s late evening, and The Crew has spent the last couple of hours in one of Graeme’s favourite pubs.
Drew said they had no luck finding somewhere that was hosting a proper ceilidh—a traditional Scottish gathering with folk music, storytelling, and dancing—but Graeme said a pub with live music where people tended to get up and dance was the next best thing.
He’d given me a secret little smile as he said it, making me think he must have remembered the nights we spent in pubs during my last visit, and how much I loved the atmosphere.
Drew sets a fresh pint of cider in front of me.
I offer her a grateful smile as I swipe my sweaty brow before picking up the glass.
We’ve been dancing for the last hour, and I’m still breathless.
I’ve lost track of how many drinks I’ve had, but I do know there’s been a steady stream of them, and I’m enjoying the buzzy feeling coursing through my body, along with the static that’s quieting my busy mind.
The loud music helps too, drowning out many of my thoughts when they try to take over.
Thoughts like...how delicious Graeme looks in a blue pullover sweater paired with a kilt and boots.
He showed up to dinner at his parents’ place dressed that way, and my whole body had flushed at the sight.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen him in a kilt, but knowing he chose it specifically for my birthday dinner, when he’d normally only wear it for formal occasions, sent my hormones into a tizzy.
“That guy over there has his eye on you,” Drew says. She’s leaning close to be heard over the music, and her mouth brushes my ear. I giggle and bat her away. Her loopy grin tells me I’m not the only tipsy one. She jerks her chin toward the group of guys congregated around a large table nearby.
My gaze locks with a good-looking man with dark, curly hair and golden brown skin. He smiles and nods, lifting his glass of whisky in my direction. I return the smile and salute before taking another sip of my drink.
“You and Graeme should hook up tonight,” Drew says.
I nearly choke on my cider. “Excuse me?”
“You and Graeme...” She trails off as she watches Brodie and Graeme cross the room toward us.
Several sets of eyes follow them, including those of a trio of women on the dance floor, all of whom eye Graeme like it’s open season and he’s the finest stag in the land.
“You two should hook up. You’re both single now.
There are plenty of hot guys here, and I swear half the women in this place have their sights set on Graeme. ”
My initial panic settles as I clue in to Drew’s meaning. “Right.”
“Wait, you didn’t think I meant you should hook up with each other, did you? Oh god, can you imagine?”
She’s still cackling like this is the funniest thing in the world when Graeme and Brodie take their seats. They look at her with twin expressions of mirth.
“Your wife is officially cut off,” I tell Brodie, sliding Drew’s glass away from her.
“In all fairness, I probably should be,” Drew says.
“I’ve become such a lightweight. In bed by ten, can’t handle my liquor anymore.
Twenty-year-old me would be horrified.” She meets my eyes and winks, shrugging as she picks up her drink and takes another sip.
She turns to the guys and raps her knuckles on the table.
“Maybe you two can help me convince Abby she should find someone to hook up with tonight.”
My gaze darts to Graeme in time to see his eyebrows skyrocket and his hand pause with his beer halfway to his mouth. When his eyes meet mine, they appear several shades darker than usual in the dimly-lit room.
“I actually told her both of you should hook up,” Drew says, waving a finger between Graeme and me.
“You’re both sexy and single, and you’ve had your fair share of interested looks tonight.
” At Graeme’s perplexed expression, Drew continues to wave that troublesome finger of hers, this time sweeping it around the pub.
Graeme casts a slow glance around the room.
Knowing him, he hasn’t noticed the attention he’s drawn.
He always was oblivious to the effect he had on people.
Except when it came to me; I didn’t miss the hint of gentle satisfaction on his face tonight when he walked into his parents’ place, and I couldn’t stop staring at him.
“...buy you a drink, have a dance,” Drew is saying as I tune back in and realize she’s talking to me. “Let him take you home and rock your world. Talk about ending your birthday on a high note!”
I laugh despite myself. “I’m good, thanks. Spending my birthday with you guys is all I want or need.”
“And I love you for that.” Drew drapes an arm around my shoulders and nuzzles my neck.
Brodie and I exchange amused glances. It looks like we’re about to reach what we used to call the Mushy Segment back in our university days.
There was always a point during our evenings of drunken fun when Drew would tell one or more of us how much we meant to her.
Looks like I’m the lucky recipient tonight.
“I worry about you sometimes, Abbykins,” she says. “You know I’m only kidding about you hooking up. That’s not your style, and that’s fine! But you’ve been single for months, and I don’t think you understand it’s okay to move on. You deserve to have fun and be happy and find love.”
The pleasant static that was keeping my thoughts quiet earlier suddenly goes completely silent, causing thoughts to rush in.
I can’t tell Drew I already found love fourteen years ago and let it slip through my fingers.
I can’t tell her the man I love—have always loved—is sitting directly in front of me with concern painted across his handsome features.
I lay my hand on top of Drew’s where it clutches my arm. “I love you, and I appreciate that you worry about me. You don’t need to, though.”
She sighs and pushes her bottom lip out in a pout. “Am I being a buzzkill?”
“Quite frankly, yes,” I say, drawing the desired laugh from her. “I was going to suggest we head home soon, but it looks like the band is coming back for another set, and I want to dance. What do you say?”
As we all rise from the table, I look around for Fern and spot her across the room.
She met a Scottish woman named Ailsa earlier, and they got talking about their shared interests.
I was going to see if Fern wanted to join us on the dance floor, but she and Ailsa are having an animated conversation over pints of cider.
That’s our Fern, making friends wherever she goes.
The band, made up of a guitarist, a fiddler, and an accordion player, is playing a lively tune that’s drawn nearly half the pub onto the small dance floor.
Brodie has his arm hooked through Drew’s and is swinging her around while she laughs wildly, her head thrown back, and her dark hair flying around her face.
In so many ways, she and Fern couldn’t be more different, but they both know how to have fun and enjoy life.
I want to be like that again too: carefree and joyful. Living in the moment.
Those thoughts are at the forefront of my mind when Graeme offers me his hand. “Well, Spicy? Care for a spin around the dance floor?”
I’m about to say I don’t know the steps, but does it really matter? A glance around shows I wouldn’t be the only one, and even if I was, who cares? The place is so packed nobody would notice anyway, and even if they did, it still wouldn’t matter.
Graeme flashes me a proud smile when I place my palm in his. His fingers close around mine, and he spins me so my back is to him. “That’s my girl,” he says directly in my ear before spinning me again.
* * *
“I’m so hungry.”
After another hour of dancing and two more drinks, getting up the stairs to Graeme’s flat took Herculean effort.
There was a point halfway up when I told him to abandon me and let me sleep in the stairwell.
The cold stone floor seemed more appealing in that moment than climbing a single step more, let alone several flights.
It took some coaxing and prodding on Graeme’s part, but we made it, and I immediately collapsed in a heap on the bench just inside the door.