Chapter 17 #2
“I know she didn’t. Deep down, I do, and .
. . I get – I get that I’m her mum.” My entire body was trembling.
“And I’d never trade that privilege for anything, but sometimes, I just want to be a person too, you know?
” I said wetly. “I don’t want to always be the bad guy; or .
. . or the one left to get the blame and pick up the pieces.
It makes me hate Cameron . . . and then I hate him even more for this ugly person he’s turned me into.
” I scrubbed at my cheeks with my sleeve, embarrassed.
Usually, I waited until I was in bed to completely fall apart.
“There is nothing ugly about you, honey.” He caught the tears I’d missed with his thumb. “Just say the word and I’ll run over Cameron with my car.”
I couldn’t even laugh. I just stared into his sombre eyes and admitted, “Sometimes I feel like I’m holding the weight of the world on my shoulders, and somehow, I’m holding it . . . wrong. Failing Teddy—”
“Jesus, Isla.” He cupped my cheeks, as close as he’d been in the toilet block that afternoon. “You’re a fucking magnificent mother. Never doubt it. Okay?”
“How can you be so sure? You barely know me.”
“The fact you’re crying right now should be a clue. Do you think Cameron’s at home right now doing the same?”
“No.” The truth of it only made me cry more. Alistair caught as many tears as he could.
“Two crying girls in a single day, I bet this wasn’t what you signed up for when you ordered a fake girlfriend, huh?” I said when they eased. I could practically see him regretting every decision that had led him to this moment. “At least being around me must be a nice little ego boost.”
“What do you mean?”
“Someone who’s constantly losing,” I explained. “You’ve come to my rescue, what? Ten times at this point. It must make you feel even more perfect.”
He barked out a rough laugh. “I’m not perfect, Isla. Far from it.”
“Right.”
“You really don’t see yourself, do you? Or me for that matter.
” He sat back on his heels, looking pissed off.
“I’m thirty-seven, back living in the tiny little village I spent all of my teen years desperate to escape; my brother is engaged to my ex-fiancée.
The only reason I have a job at all right now is because my dad somehow knew he’d need to swoop in and save me one last time—” He broke off, squeezing his eyes shut like he’d said too much.
“Wait.” My brain tripped over his words, trying to piece them together with what he’d told me. “You were fired? But I – I thought that’s why you were leaving. To return to your old practice.”
“I wasn’t fired. I quit a few years back, then bounced between surgeries,” he said quickly. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him scramble.
“Why?” I asked, then watched his entire face shut down. I wouldn’t normally push but – “Come on, I just laid all of my humiliating problems bare.”
He was silent so long; I didn’t think he was going to tell me.
But then finally, he said, “There isn’t much to tell.
Another doctor – my old boss, Peter – and I had a disagreement over a patient’s care.
We both put in complaints, but ultimately, it’s a business of connections. Last one in, first one out.”
“He sounds like a dick.”
He huffed a laugh. “Aye, well, it doesn’t matter now. As soon as Kinleith Surgery sells, I’ll be out of here.”
“Where will you go?”
“I don’t know yet. Down south maybe.” Alistair straightened the blanket over my shoulders.
“Now I’m going to tell you something else, okay?
” I nodded as he held my eyes. “Everyone’s a mess, and we’re all just praying we make it through the day without people realising.
I think you’re doing fucking perfect given the circumstances. ”
I think you’re doing fucking perfect given the circumstances. The words rang through me like a bell’s chime, filling every corner of my brain.
The words shouldn’t have held so much power, but I couldn’t control my smile, something warm beginning to simmer in my stomach. For the first time, I felt like I was seeing him clearly. Past the bluster and slick image he presented to the world.
“You’re actually kind of nice, Dr Macabe, despite the rumours.” His gaze drifted to my lips. I wasn’t sure he was even aware of it.
The images of the afternoon came flooding back, and somehow I knew he was remembering it too. His breath on my neck, the words he’d murmured in my ear.
We hadn’t spoken about it . . . and as I watched the teasing edge creep into his eyes, I knew we wouldn’t. “And you’re really small. How did you get so small?”
Following his lead, I thumped my fist off his shoulder. “Lack of vegetables, probably.”
“That explains it.” He stood and took a step back. “Now, time for bed. You should get inside before it gets any colder.”
He was probably right.
Pulling the blanket off my shoulders, I folded it and handed it back to him. “Thank you . . . for that,” I said, a little embarrassed. “You’d make a good friend, Alistair.” I don’t know why I said it, maybe because he needed to hear something good about himself too.
I watched his shoulders tense, his thumb flicking over that crooked little finger. “Please . . . don’t count on me. I’ve never been good at being anyone’s friend.”
I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t see themselves clearly. “I think you might be better than you think you are. Goodnight,” I said and turned, slipping inside the cottage without waiting for an answer.
The door was almost shut when I heard him say, “Goodnight, Isla.”