Chapter 10 #2
I let out a sigh and open the door, hoping to find a sales associate who’ll be willing to assist me, but freeze when I see Jacob.
He’s here. Standing in front of the full-length mirror in a plain white undershirt and a pair of dark-blue jeans.
For a fleeting moment, I find myself missing his kilt.
“Hey.” I lift a hand, and his gaze snaps to mine. “I need to try on some things, but my dress—”
He closes his eyes briefly, an are you kidding? sort of look if I’ve ever seen one.
“This is the last time,” I say. “I swear.”
“Yeah.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine.”
I gather my hair over my neck and turn. And this time, he gets it on the first try, tugging so hard it unzips halfway down my back.
“Thanks.” I scuttle back into my fitting room, pulling the curtain closed behind me as he goes back into his own fitting room.
“You should get those jeans, by the way,” I say as I shimmy out of my dress.
“I’m going to.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I hear fabric rustling and pause.
“Are you trying something else on?” I ask.
A long beat of silence.
“Yeah,” he says. “Just some shirts.”
I slip one of the T-shirts over my head.
“Shirts, plural?” I ask. “You need more than one?” We’re only extending this trip by a day.
“They’re on sale. There’s a discount if you buy three. And I can use them. For work.”
I wish I didn’t find that endearing.
“Did my dad manage to find anything?”
“Yeah. He did. He’s out there, waiting near the front.”
I pull on a pair of jeans that are absolutely too tight and discard them, reaching for another.
“You were right before,” Jacob says. “This morning.”
“I was?”
More fabric rustling.
“Yeah,” he says. “We should talk about it.” He clears his throat. “There’s obviously an…attraction between us. But I don’t think it’s wise for us to act on it.”
I look at the cloth partition that separates us. “Right. You said as much before, but I don’t get it.” I pause. “Though you don’t need to explain. If you’re not into it, or something, I’m not trying to convince you—”
“Neelu.” His low voice sends goosebumps up my arms. “Clearly I was into it.”
My stomach flips.
“I only think…you’re only here for one more night. You’re leaving tomorrow. And isn’t this complicated enough as it is?”
He has a point. “Yeah. No. I get it.”
He goes quiet again. “And it’s not that…that I dislike you. It’s only…I don’t think we see eye to eye.”
I snort. “Right.” I button up a new pair of jeans.
“Do you…don’t you think so?” he asks.
“Well, yeah.” I think back to our conversation during the drive here. “But that’s only because you’ve made all these assumptions. About me and my father, even though I’m the one who’s known him my whole life. You think I owe him something, after all that happened when I was a kid—”
“You were an adult when your father was sick. And the reason I know that is because I was there while it was happening. I was there during his treatment, his surgery, and you weren’t. It’s not an assumption. It’s a fact.”
He sounds so sure, so confident. It makes me want to shove the truth in his face. That my father never told me he was sick.
Only it’s not quite the trump card I think it is. Because if my dad had told me, if I had known about the surgery, would I have traveled all the way here for it? Maybe. If I’d understood the severity of it. But I don’t know the answer for sure.
Unbidden, I see my father’s face at the wedding. The way he stared out at the parking lot, lost and confused, after Maggie raced out.
I feel a twinge beneath my sternum.
“No, I wasn’t there,” I say calmly. “And you can’t imagine any circumstances under which that would make sense. A world where that might be acceptable.”
“I—” He hesitates. A long pause, and then his voice hardens. “I can’t imagine having the chance to be there and just choosing not to be. You can’t be that callous—”
I gather my new clothes in a bundle and step outside. “You don’t know me.”
“And you don’t know how bad it got. How close your father was to—” He lets out a sound of frustration. When he steps out of his changing room, his brows are drawn, his face tight. “I know I—I have a history with this. It’s personal to me, and maybe I’m taking it all too personally.”
I thaw slightly. “I can understand that,” I say.
He shakes his head. “But I don’t—I don’t understand you.”
“And you don’t care to.”
“No. It’s not—” He shifts his weight, holding a stack of shirts neatly folded between his hands. “Whatever happens, you’re leaving tomorrow. So, I don’t—” He looks away abruptly. “What would be the point?”
I blink and take a step back. “Yeah,” I say. “No. That makes sense.”
We’re strangers. We don’t know each other, and we don’t need to. I don’t know why I’ve been pushing at him, what I’ve been trying to get at.
And I don’t know why his words, words I don’t disagree with, hurt.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been holding on to that stranger I met in the bar, hoping for another night like that.
A night where I can share and be held and feel understood.
But that version of Jacob doesn’t exist anymore. At least, not for me.
I tighten my hold on my clothes and offer him a bland smile. “I guess we’ll just stay out of each other’s way, then.”
His forehead creases, but I simply move around him, not waiting for his response.
—
When we get back to the car, Jacob offers my father the front seat, but he declines.
“You get carsick in the back,” my father says.
“Not carsick, really,” Jacob replies, his voice quiet.
“Right,” my father says. “I just know you prefer the front. And I don’t mind sitting in the back. I could drive, actually, if you want, Neelu?”
I’m surprised by the offer. He sounds better this morning, though, well-rested, and there’s an optimistic note in his voice.
“If you’re sure…” I say, and my father takes the keys from me.
“Positive,” he says.
It takes us a few minutes to leave Inverness. We pass buildings that look old, castle-like structures with pointed turrets. And we travel across a bridge over a large stretch of water that I now know is the River Ness.
I take in the view, enjoying not being behind the wheel for a change. “Any news from the hotel in Skye?”
“Not yet,” Jacob says.
“They weren’t open when we called this morning,” my father adds. “But I’m sure she’s there. We can try calling them again in a little bit.”
Jacob’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. He doesn’t seem as convinced as my father.
I want to ask whether Maggie’s returned any of their texts or calls, but I’m sure they would have told me if she had. And I don’t want to bring it up and risk ruining my father’s lighter mood.
The city fades behind us, and we’re back among the rolling green hills, only they seem taller here.
It’s a rare sunny day and the green’s so vibrant, the purple flowers along the road so bright, the sky so blue.
I don’t know if my father’s optimism is contagious, or if it’s the weather contributing to my good mood, but I’m fully feeling it now.
We’ll find Maggie, and she’ll be fine. I’ll have a chance to make things right, and then I can leave this place and finally return home.
A buoyant, weightless sensation settles through me. The hum of the car and the white noise of the wind are calming, and it all slowly lulls me to sleep.
—
When I wake, we’re not moving. And the rain has returned.
My head is slouched over my chest, and as I try to correct my horrible posture, a dull pain throbs in my neck.
“Maybe it was too close to the date. But we’d talked about moving it, and she said it was fine, but maybe…”
“She didn’t want that, Uncle,” Jacob replies. “She liked the idea of keeping the dates close. Including him in that way.” He pauses. “She said it would be a new memory, a way to turn a hard time into a better one.”
I open my eyes slowly, blinking a few times.
“Is it—did I pressure her? Or make her feel like she had to…to justify it in that way?”
“No,” Jacob says. “It’s not that.”
“Then what? I can’t—I have to think she had a reason.”
“It wasn’t the timing.”
My dad turns to look at Jacob. They’re speaking softly, and neither of them seem to notice I’m awake.