CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Avonlea – Now
Shit. Bollocks. Fuck. Shit.
Jamie kissed me. Kissed me. And I let him. The second he leaned in, my body knew exactly what it wanted.
Him. Always him. Only him.
But that’s not possible.
For that moment though, I let myself pretend it was. I sank into the scent of his woodsy soap, or aftershave, or whatever the fuck he uses to make him smell so damn alluring, and the feel of his lips pulled me under.
But then my brain whirred back to life and I fled before I could fall so deep into him I’d never be able to get back out.
He’s Lennox’s father. I can’t get involved with him while a secret like that stands between us. I shouldn’t get involved with him period. It’s too complicated. Too messy. Too much.
He doesn’t live here—not really. And if that kiss is any indication, I’ll end up exactly where I was at seventeen: in love with a boy—a man—who won’t stay for me.
I press back against the wall inside the kitchen and inhale through my nose, attempting to replace his scent with the smells of braising meat and rising dough. When I blink open my eyes, I see my entire kitchen staff, plus Angus, watching me with looks of confusion on their faces.
“Uh, hi, lads,” I splutter, trying to compose myself and failing miserably.
“You alright, Avonlea?” Angus asks, narrowing his eyes in my direction before they flit to the door. Can he sense the shift that just occurred between me and his grandson?
“Aye, yes. All good. Just, uh, need a minute. Be right back.” I scurry out of the kitchen, flying up the stairs two at a time until I reach my bedroom.
Flopping onto the bed, I mutter to myself, “Stupid, Avonlea. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
What was I thinking?
That’s right… I wasn’t.
I just need to tell Jamie. Get this over with. Rid myself of this feeling of being crushed beneath a boulder of lies and deceit.
I walk into the bathroom and throw some water on my face, hoping to cool the mortification over what just happened—both with Jamie and in the kitchen. I can’t let this affect my job. I don’t just need it. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
Water droplets drip down my face and onto the sink top. My pupils are still dilated and my skin is pink and warm.
“Get it together, Avi,” I whisper to my reflection.
I need a plan to tell Jamie so I can stop living in fear. I’m moving into the cottage tomorrow and then visiting Lennox in Glasgow at the end of next week. After that, there’s only a few weeks before he’s here full time.
Jamie needs to have time to process before that.
I blow out a breath and swipe a towel across my face before redoing my top knot.
After I get back from Glasgow, I’ll tell him. Then we’ll figure it out from there.
With a semblance of normalcy and feeling moderately put back together, I’m ready to get back to my day.
This will all be fine.
This is the furthest thing from fine.
I should be on my way to Glasgow right now to see Lennox and my parents, but instead I’m pacing the front porch of my little cottage awaiting their arrival.
They’re coming here. To Skye. And I still haven’t told Jamie.
Bloody hell, what am I going to do?
I walk back into the house to make sure everything is in order. Again.
I moved in on Saturday and have spent every free moment of this week making it into a home.
Which made avoiding Jamie a little easier too.
A necessity after that kiss last Friday, because whenever we’re in the same room, my body screams that it wants to do it again.
Avoidance is better, so I’ve been focused on preparing for when Lennox would be here—in a month. Not today.
I was supposed to go see him this weekend. We had plans for just the two of us. Plans with my parents. Plans on plans. And now they’ve all changed because they’re coming here, eviscerating any hope I had of telling Jamie about Lennox before he inevitably sees him.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
Although, my concern over the Jamie-Lennox situation is secondary to the fact that my son got into a fight at school this morning and was suspended. Thus the reason for this lovely change of plans.
My sweet, would-never-hurt-a-fly boy hit someone today. And I wasn’t there to pick him up. To talk to the principal. To the parents of the other boy. I wasn’t there. Because I was here, and I’ve had a delightful six hours to wallow in the mum-guilt of it all.
Six hours since my mum called to tell me what happened and that she thought Lennox needed to get out of Glasgow for the week. The week. Because he’s suspended until next Friday.
So, instead of me driving to them, they’re on their way here, and I want nothing more than to hug my kid and comfort him and get to the bottom of whatever is going on at school. But there is still the fact that Jamie is right down the road at the Thistle plenty of time to get him to open up about everything.
“Okay, we can talk about it later. You hungry?” I ask. He must be, and I’m sure Mum and Dad are too after the long drive.
“Yeah. Can we go to the pub?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.
Of course he wants to go to the T&T, but Jamie is there…
I might have to just hope for the best and pray he doesn’t figure it out until after Lennox leaves.
“Why don’t we see what Gran and Pa want to do?”
“Aye, okay.” He goes in search of them and I follow in his wake.
We find them in the kitchen and Lennox walks over to my dad, who pulls him in for a side hug and whispers something in his ear.
Lennox smiles softly and I’m overrun with gratitude that my dad has been willing to be a father figure for Lennox for all these years.
He was the best dad I could’ve asked for and he’s been the best possible grandad too.
“Lennox is hungry. Any ideas on dinner for tonight?”
“I wanna go to the pub,” Lennox interjects before anyone else can get a word in.
My eyes lock with Mum’s and I’m sure she can see the panic in mine, the worry that everything will implode the second we step foot in the inn.
“We could go to Wild Peets. It was always my favorite when we’d come up here,” she says, and I relax a little.
That is a great idea. We could go into town, which would have the added benefit of giving Mum a little more time before she has to confront her own past. Seeing as she and Dad haven’t been here since the summer when I was seventeen.
They didn’t even come last year when I made the trip with Lennox to settle Grannie and Papa’s estate.
“But if we go to the T&T, you can show me your kitchen.” He gives me a look—eyebrow raised and head cocked—that says there’s no better option than that.
Mum’s expression is stoic, and with a shrug, our fate is sealed. I guess we’re going to the inn.