Chapter 21
I catch my father watching me in the rearview window a couple times, but Jacob keeps him occupied, engaging him in conversation, picking up on any lulls and not allowing for any breaks.
I’m grateful for it. It allows me to disengage, to stare out the window mindlessly until the green landscape turns into blue, the ocean stretching out in front of me as we cross a long bridge.
“We made it,” Jacob says, turning back with a grin. “We’re in Skye.”
I return his smile, even as my gut twists.
I don’t know what to say to Maggie when I see her. And I don’t know what she plans to say to my dad.
My father, at least, seems to have forgotten our little confrontation. He’s no longer looking back at me. His fingers are tapping at the steering wheel, and his eyes are fixed on the road.
There’s tension in his posture, and he grows quiet as we near the hotel.
He enters the parking lot, but even after he finds a spot and cuts the engine, he stays seated.
Jacob and I exchange a glance.
“It’ll be fine, Uncle,” he says, placing a hand on his arm, and after a second, my father nods, undoing his seat belt.
Jacob gets down from the car and comes back to open my door. A gesture my father is too distracted to notice.
“Are you okay?” Jacob asks me as I climb out.
His eyes are soft, concerned, and it’s so strange, feeling cared for in this way. Being invited into that circle of protection that until now I’ve only seen him extend to my father and Maggie.
“I am.” I look over at my father, who was several feet in front of us, walking quickly into the hotel.
“I think I’m doing better than he is, anyway,” I say.
Jacob blows out a breath. “Yeah,” he says. “He’s a bit tense. Understandably so.”
We trail after my father, following him through the parking lot.
“And you?” I ask him. “What we talked about this morning—how are you feeling?”
He lifts a shoulder, but the movement is strained. “I’ll have to accept whatever they decide, won’t I?”
I check to make sure my father’s facing forward, then I reach for Jacob’s hand, squeezing it tight. He interlaces our fingers, our palms touching, only letting go when we reach the entrance to the lobby.
We’ve managed to catch up with my father, so we’re all together when we see the woman with short, curling gray hair sitting in the lobby. Her hands are in her lap, twisting together, and she stands when she sees us.
My father goes still, frozen halfway across the room, but Maggie’s walking to him, her stride determined, her eyes misty. And when she throws her arms around his neck, my chest constricts, then loosens. I pull in a deep lungful of air.
It’s fine. All of this is going to be fine.
—
There are tears and apologies—from Maggie to my father, from my father to her—and Jacob stands beside me, the two of us watching, neither of us moving closer.
In my peripheral vision, Jacob raises his arm. He takes off his glasses, wiping the back of his hand against his eyes.
I lean into him, and he looks down at me, the corners of his mouth soft.
“I’m just so relieved,” he says quietly.
And I can’t help but reach for his hand, squeezing it again. “Me too.”
He smiles, and I drop his hand, but not before my gaze connects with Maggie’s.
She blinks, her eyes dropping for a second, then flying to Jacob’s face. Then to mine.
A tide of panic swells, and I try to stop it, pushing it down.
I sold Jacob on this being fun and casual. That’s all I can offer him. That’s all this can be.
I can’t allow this to become complicated.
I’m leaving at the end of this. And now that Maggie and my father have reunited, this probably is the end of this. Tonight is probably the last night we’ll have.
I sneak a glance at Jacob as he slides his glasses back on.
When I look back at Maggie, any surprise on her face has disappeared. She’s simply lifting a hand, smiling, waving at both of us to join her.
So we do.
She reaches for Jacob first, and he leans down, wrapping her in a hug.
I hear his voice, mumbled and low, as he tells her he loves her.
And I hear Maggie’s response, louder, the words watery.
“I know.” She pulls back. “I love you too.” She pushes his hair off his forehead, the gesture so maternal it tugs at my heart.
“I’m sorry for making you worry. I didn’t know how to—” She glances at my dad. “There’s so much I want to say.”
“We’ll have time for that,” Jacob says, straightening to his full height. “We’re just glad you’re okay.”
Maggie turns, her eyes coming back to mine, and I swallow, my throat constricting.
“I—” I start, but then she reaches for me, hugging me, and I go still. The embrace is over in a second, but I’m stunned, not moving even after it’s over.
“Thank you for staying, Neelu,” she says, her glaze flitting quickly to my dad. “For being here. For coming all this way.”
“Oh, it wasn’t—it was nothing.” Heat rises up my neck, and guilt pricks at me. She’s thanking me? After the things I said? When they might have been the reason she fled?
I swallow again, and I feel Jacob shift beside me, his presence closer than before.
“I wanted to say—” The heat travels, climbing from my neck to my face. “I’d like to talk to you. Later. Maybe, after—”
Her face softens. “Yes,” she says. “I want to talk with you too.”
I catch my father watching us, his brows creased, but they smooth out when Maggie turns back to him. “Should we go on that walk?” she asks, and my father nods.
“We’ll call when we’re back,” he tells Jacob and me. He pauses. “Maybe we can all meet later? For dinner?”
“Take your time,” Jacob says. “No rush.” He’s smiling, beaming, and that joy on his face is contagious. I feel it too, melting away some of my unease. “Neelu and I can handle check-in and everything.” He glances at me quickly. “And if the two of you want to do dinner alone, we can manage.”
Maggie tilts her head at that, but my father doesn’t seem to notice.
“If you’re sure,” my father says.
“We’ll still call you,” Maggie says, smiling at both of us. “For dinner. We don’t have to decide now.” And we all agree.
We part, Jacob and I collecting our belongings and heading to the front desk while my father and Maggie leave, walking out the door. But I don’t miss the last look Maggie sends us over her shoulder, her expression open and curious. And maybe the tiniest bit hopeful.
Jacob slants a look at me. “I think she picked up on something between us,” he says, but he doesn’t sound upset about it. He actually sounds…a little pleased?
“You’re okay with that?”
“Are you…not?”
The young woman behind the front desk finishes helping the couple before us and calls us up.
“Chapman,” Jacob says. “But the reservation could also be under Pillai?”
“Yes,” the woman says. “But Ms. Chapman’s already checked in.” Her eyes shift between the two of us. “Is everything all right with her stay?”
“Yes. But we’ll need some more rooms.”
Her fingers fly across her keyboard. “Sure. And how many would you need?”
“That—” Jacob laughs through his nose, his eyes catching mine. “That’s a good question.”
“One?” I suggest. “How full are you? If we need another one later, would we be able to book that, or—”
“We could do that,” the woman responds. “I can put a hold on it, if you like?”
“That would be great.”
Jacob smiles, but there’s uncertainty there, and I answer his unspoken question. “For my father,” I say, my voice low. “In case they decide that…if he wants another room.” I pause. “If you’re okay with it, though, if you still want, I thought I could stay with you?”
His smile grows, and there’s a promise there. A hint of heat.
My stomach flips.
“Perfect,” he says.
He puts a card on file, and we take our stuff up a short flight of stairs.
He’s quiet for a moment, and then he turns around, laughing, his jaw slack with relief. “That was so much easier than I thought it would be.”
“What? Getting the room?”
“No.” He slides the key into the lock and holds the door open for me. “With Maggie. It was—I mean, I’m sure there’s stuff to talk through, but they really seem like they’re going to be okay.”
“Yeah,” I say. I sink onto the edge of the bed, toeing off my shoes.
My mouth opens in a yawn.
When I look up, Jacob’s doing the same. He catches me watching and lifts a hand to cover his open mouth. “Contagious,” he says with a grin. He walks to the other side of the bed, pulling back the comforter.
And my head starts to feel heavy.
The physical and emotional exhaustion of the last few days is starting to catch up with me. And the lack of sleep from last night too.
I need to have a conversation with Maggie.
I need to rebook my flight.
I need to work on the pitch for Natalie.
At some point, I probably need to talk with my dad.
And Jacob—
He’s taken off his sweater, and he’s pulling his arms through his undershirt. His face disappears for a moment, and then his skin is revealed. Warm and golden from the lamp on the nightstand, the expanse of his chest wide and inviting.
All I want is to curl up there. To close my eyes. To rest.
“We don’t need to do anything until dinner,” I say. “Right?”
I stretch my arms over my head, pulling one of the pillows toward me, and he nods. He pulls the comforter back farther, allowing me to climb under it, and he slides in.
“I’ll set an alarm,” he says, his words a faint mumble.
I’m lying down, already falling asleep, when I hear the click of the light turning off, when I feel his arm come around my waist. When I hear his breathing even out and allow myself to sleep.
There will be things to figure out when I wake up, but right now it’s nice to not think about it. To not feel alone.
—
I jolt awake to the sound of a familiar ringtone playing. I reach to switch it off out of instinct, but instead of an alarm, it’s an incoming phone call.
I almost swipe my thumb across the screen to answer before I see the name.
Ajit Uncle.
I sit up, shaking Jacob’s shoulder.
He blinks, his eyes bleary. “What?”
“My dad. He’s calling.”
“Okay…”
“On your phone.”
“Oh.” He takes the phone from my hand, lifting it to his ear. “Uncle, hi.”
He reaches for the lamp with his other hand, switching it on, and I blink at the sudden light.
“Yes,” he says. He’s quiet for a little bit. “An hour?” he asks. He lifts an eyebrow at me. “For dinner?”
I nod.
“Yes, that sounds good.” He props the pillow behind him, sitting up straight. “We can meet you at the restaurant downstairs.” He pauses, then smiles at me. “Yes. I can tell her.” A beat. “All right. We’ll see you both in a bit.”
He hangs up, tossing the phone on the bed, and then he reaches for me.
I laugh, surprised, as he pulls me toward him.
“Good morning,” he says, planting a soft kiss on my mouth.
“Pretty sure it’s evening.”
“Good evening, then.”
I kiss him back, my hand finding the back of his neck, tugging him closer.
Light, fun, simple. I repeat the words to myself, even when we break apart and his eyes scan across my face, his expression tender.
My heart squeezes.
I should get up. Get ready for dinner. But I want to stay here.
Even though I’m sure I’m looking at him the same way.
“So, we’re doing dinner with them?” I ask, forcing myself to get out of bed.
“Yes,” he says. “If you’re good with it.”
“I am.” I sort through the few clothes I have, trying to find something to wear.
I grab a shirt and some pants and change in the bathroom, returning to find Jacob wearing more clothes as well.
“No kilt tonight?” I say, an attempt at teasing, and he grins, looking up from typing something on his phone, but as he watches me, his smile begins to fade.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“What?” I tie my hair up in a ponytail, feel a loose strand at the back of my neck, and undo it all so I can tie it again. “Nothing.”
He walks toward me and lifts a finger under the right corner of my mouth. “You get a little divot,” he says. “Here.” He replaces his finger with the pad of this thumb, sweeping over my skin. “I don’t see it all the time, but it pops up every now and then. I think when you’re upset about something.”
“I’m not upset.”
His thumb goes still. “Really?” he asks softly.
“Really,” I say. I shake my head. “It’s, well, I don’t know.”
He takes his hand back, but I reach for it, drawing it back, leaning my cheek into his palm.
“There’s a lot going on in my head right now, but I just don’t—I don’t want to talk about it.
Not tonight.” I look at him, pleading. “Let’s just get through dinner, and then—you said we could have this? Right?”
His brows draw together. “Have…”
“Have tonight. That we could just—” I swallow. “Now that Maggie and my dad are fine, there’s no—I need to take the car back to Aberdeen. I need to get home. But tonight…we could still—”
“Right,” he says. He blinks, hard, a dazed sort of look on his face. “Right.”
He steps back, his hand falling to his side, then coming up again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed,” he says.
“No, it’s fine, I—”
He smiles, but it’s put on, the way his mouth stretches.
It’s not real.
“You’re right,” he says. “Let’s just do dinner, and we can—there’s no reason to not have a good time tonight.”
A good time. Those words feel so small.
He turns around, picking his sweater up from the chair he tossed it on. He raises his arms, slipping it on.
And when he turns back around, he looks like himself again. “I’m glad they want to do dinner. If it’s your last night here, or one of your last nights, I know they’ll be happy they got to spend it with you.”
My mouth is parched. I lick my lips. “Jacob, I—”
“Come on,” he says, his smile more natural. “Let’s head down.”
He opens the door to the hallway, waiting for me to walk through, then closes it behind us.
But as I follow him down the stairs, watching the stiff way he holds his shoulders, I know I’ve hurt him.
I didn’t want to. I didn’t say anything untrue. We both know I’m going back, that this thing—whatever it is—will have to come to an end.
But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt him.
Or that I don’t feel that same hurt too.