Chapter 5
FINN
READY YOU TWO?
Florence pops her head out of the front door to the patio where my brother and I are currently enjoying a beer. A nice red, brewed by one Alexander Keith, according to the bottle.
I spent the afternoon walking along the beach and swimming with Alistair. Florence, who I’ve decided must be a saint, spent that time with our mother. She and Mum came with us for part of the walk, but it wasn’t long before my mother was keen to head back to the house.
Now, we’re about to go for dinner at their local pub. It’s just outside Christmas Island, in a community called Iona. Alba and her wife, along with Alba’s dad—who I’ve learned is basically Florence’s dad as well, since her uncle is the only real father figure she’s ever known—are meeting us there.
Along with the lovely, lovely Violet.
She has such a nice name. It rolls off the tongue—I practically purred it at her earlier today. She’s beautiful, with honey-brown hair, a smattering of tattoos, and there’s something intense about her. And she kept blinking up at me with those big doe eyes in a way that gave my ego a boost.
The romantic in me was forging ahead. Now this would make a great meet-cute story. How did you meet your wife, Finn? Oh, she barged in on me changing—and she’s my brother’s wife’s best friend…
Okay Finn, snap out of it you absolute bampot.
I can’t help myself sometimes. But she lives on the other side of Canada and you, you shite, are stuck in Scotland for the foreseeable future. Normally I’d be tempted to pursue a bit of fun with Violet, but since it can’t really go anywhere, the thought makes me feel a bit flat.
I think about Gemma—the sting of recollection that she didn’t want to be anything more, at least not with me. I thought we were heading somewhere and she, apparently, only wanted to shag and nothing more. Something in my chest constricts. I think maybe I need a break from women.
But I’ve said that before, and it’s never exactly lasted long. I can’t seem to stop myself from putting it all out there.
Florence, Alistair, my mother, and I load into the Jeep. I notice Mum is wearing a jumper and I try not to cringe; she must be a thousand degrees. I’m sweating just looking at it.
As if reading my thoughts, Allie, god bless him, turns up the air con.
I sigh and try to speak kindly to my mother, twat that I am.
Have you been here yet Mum? Is it good?
She nods. They have excellent food. And plenty o’ local beers for you.
And have you met all of Florence’s family already?
She nods again. That uncle of hers certainly is a charmer. I snort, but Florence cackles from the front seat.
Don’t let him fool you Eileen, she turns and winks at my mother. He’s trouble, just like the rest of them.
It doesn’t take us long to get to the pub, which is sat atop a hill overlooking the water. As we walk inside, people wave or come over to greet my brother and his fiancée. They’re certainly quite at home here. The thought makes me feel a pang of something like jealousy.
Well, well, well, if it isn’t the brother, a man in a wheelchair rolls in front of me. He’s looking up at me, and I sense a bit of judgment. Finally come to grace us with your presence at last.
His tone is almost mocking, but I’m not sure what to make of it. I just met the man. Shrugging, I say, I s’pose my earlier invitation got lost in the mail. It’s not entirely true. Alistair invited me to come many, many times before this.
Alistair claps the man on the shoulder. Finn, this is Florence’s uncle Albert. He’s Alba’s dad.
Nobody calls me Albert, at least not family, the man says. Albie’s fine, boy.
Boy. I’ve never reacted well to being talked down to and I can feel myself twitch.
And Finn’s fine as well, boy doesn’t suit a strapping lad like me.
Albie laughs, slapping his knee for effect, but Alistair gives me a look that makes me feel like a dog being tugged back on the leash. The look says, This guy is harmless and also Florence’s family, so don’t be a dick.
Understood.
Swallowing my pride, I lean down and shake Albie’s hand. Very happy to meet you—and to be here. I gesture around us at the pub. Fuck, I need a drink.
First time in Cape Breton, eh? Albie confirms and I nod. He laughs again. You won’t want to be leaving anytime soon, mark my words. Especially this time of year. I suspect this will be your first of many summers here.
Well, I’ve enjoyed what I’ve seen so far. I’m desperate to get onto some of the bike trails around here, that’s for sure.
I’m spared from saying much more by the sounds of shrieking from the bar.
Florence has finally found her friends and is dragging Violet over to meet Alistair.
Violet’s eyes meet mine for a brief second, and, well fuck, I smile my rakish smile at her.
She blushes. This only makes my smile bigger.
Even if we live worlds apart, I can’t help flirting with her.
Al, this is Violet, Florence is beaming, clearly thrilled that these two can finally meet. Violet, who blushed furiously and seemed caught off guard with me, is an entirely different person when she meets my brother.
Interesting.
She pulls him into a hug—she certainly didn’t hug me—and the two of them immediately launch into a conversation about how much they’ve heard about the other.
She laughs easily, grinning ear-to-ear and seeming entirely comfortable.
Allie has that effect, though. People are often at ease around him—whereas I need to be reminded not to be a dick to people’s uncles, and was recently given the socially devastating description of not a good fit.
I saunter closer and see her clock my movement out of the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t look up at me.
Violet, I say in that drawling, tasting kind of way. Such a nice name. You don’t meet many Violets. It’s nice to see you again.
Hello, she says, and it’s almost as though she has to force herself to meet my eyes. She is gorgeous, now dressed in a dark purple tank top with a high neckline and a snug fit.
Hello, I say again, repeating our exchange from earlier today. I’d been replaying her comment in my head this afternoon, that she’d already seen a lot of me, and the way she said it so matter-of-factly. Absolutely delightful.
Florence looks between us. You two have met already?
Violet’s face is blooming into a lovely pink now. I want to see her flush like that for other reasons.
I chastise myself. Come on, Finn. Whatever I’ve been doing with women clearly isn’t working towards anything lasting, as Gemma recently proved. Maybe I need to start with flirting less. But something about Violet has piqued my interest.
Oh yes, I tell Florence, ignoring my own internal warning alarms. Your cousin and the lovely Violet here were having a perv. I wink at Violet when I say this. Fuck it.
Hey, we didn’t know— Violet starts, but I forge ahead.
They came barging into my cottage earlier today, while I was in quite the state of undress. I turn directly to Violet, whose big doe eyes are back and almost pleading now, and purr, And did you enjoy the view, darling?
I certainly got my money’s worth.
I bark out a laugh. There’s that split-second delay before she seems to get embarrassed. Like she didn’t mean to say the words out loud.
Fuck, Alistair says, shaking his head and pulling me from my thoughts, I must have put you in the wrong cottage.
That you did, Alba replies as she walks over to us. She has a swagger that could put mine to shame. I, for one, thought the place had never looked better. She’s clearly trying to keep me from focusing directly on her friend, and I like her all the more for it.
If I genuinely thought I was making Violet uncomfortable, I would stop—but I don’t think that’s what’s happening here.
Okay, what the hell am I missing? Florence demands, hands on her hips, still trying to work out what happened. Alba puts her arms around her cousin and her friend, dragging them towards the bar.
Don’t worry Flora, we’ll get you up to speed.
Under her breath, Violet attempts a whisper that I can still hear: I really, really need a drink.
That makes two of us.