Chapter 30
Isla
Isla: Any news?
Alistair: He’s stable. We’re waiting for the medivac helicopter to arrive and fly him to Inverness.
Alistair: I’m so sorry, I’ll be as quick as I can.
Isla: Did I mention Teddy is staying at Heather’s tonight?
Alistair: Even more reason to hurry.
The rest of the morning went like this: a blood vessel almost burst in Alistair’s eye at the revelation of my lack of aquatic proficiency, to which I’d replied he should blame my parents for always saying, “Who needs to swim in Surrey?”
After he’d hauled me back to shore like I was a survivor from the Titanic, we hadn’t even paused to dress before racing to his Land Rover, damp bodies sticking to his leather seats.
True to his word, he’d broken every speed limit . . . by a full two miles per hour. Because I can’t fuck you if we’re dead, Lang.
That promise had set off a series of fireworks in my chest.
I’d never been so turned on in my life. I don’t think he had either, if the impressive length still straining his wet shorts when we got home was anything to go by.
He’d just parked haphazardly across his immaculate lawn, reaching across the gear stick to give me a savage kiss, when his phone had blared through the cabin.
“Fuck, it’s the emergency line,” he said. “I’m sorry, I have to take it.”
“Of course.”
Then I’d watched his face pale with every passing second.
A farmer had been pinned to a gate by a panicked bull over in Drumfearn. He was in bad shape but conscious when Alistair had left me on my cottage doorstep, promising, “I’ll be as quick as I can.”
“Don’t even worry about me.” I’d batted a hand. “I’ll spend the afternoon baking. Consider it a low-effort attempt to lure you back.”
“Apple pie?”
“If you like.”
“You’re a goddess,” he’d groaned giving me a final kiss, filled with sexual promise.
That was hours ago.
What was the saying? A watched pot never boiled. I wondered if that applied to phones too.
I’d distracted myself by taking a shower at Alistair’s, then I’d started cooking an early dinner.
A fifth variation of our apple pie now sat beside the pasta I’d made.
The pasta had long cooled, the layer of cheese starting to wrinkle, like a pensioner’s skin before the extensive research on the importance of SPF.
The salad I’d thrown together was wilted, the lettuce leaves unable to stand the acidic weight of the lemon and olive oil I’d tossed it in.
Trying to impress Alistair as though he didn’t already know I ate microwave meals five nights out of seven.
By seven p.m., my niggle of worry had grown hands and legs and started crawling, stalking me down the hallway as I changed my outfit for the third time.
What was the correct outfit to wear for your fake boyfriend/neighbour when it was already established you’d be naked within the first thirty seconds?
The image of a woman in head-to-toe leather came to me, and I immediately nixed the idea. There wasn’t enough chafing cream in the world to make that outfit comfortable.
Maybe one of my long T-shirts? He always seemed distracted when I wore those.
I settled on the best lingerie set I owned, under the pink summer dress that now graced his lock screen.
I texted him at seven thirty. Everything okay? What if something had happened? A car wreck on the way home. What if his patient hadn’t made it? No doubt he’d be devastated.
Seconds passed, feeling like hours. Unable to shake the feeling something was wrong, I checked my phone again, opening our message thread to make sure I hadn’t missed anything.
The same message thread stared back at me.
I should call him. My thumb was hovering over his name when I heard the rumble of an engine coming down the lane.
Thank god. The fear in my chest deflated. Wrist holding my phone falling limp as I raced to open the door. “I was starting to think you were dead—” The smile slipped off my face.
It was the wrong car. An uncomfortable Audi with terrible boot space. The wrong man climbing out the driver’s seat wearing a shiny silver watch instead of a tasteful leather strap.
“Cameron.” My hand clenched around the door handle. “Teddy’s not here: she’s at a sleepover.” Go away.
He gave me a relieved smile. “That’s good. It’s actually you I wanted to talk to.”
“You couldn’t have called?”
“You didn’t answer my texts,” he said, his brown eyes crinkling in a same old Lala way. Because he thought he still knew me.
Too shocked to argue, I stepped back, holding the door wide. “I’ve been busy.”
“I can see that,” he said, taking in the cottage, the mismatched furniture and ancient kitchen. “Wow, this place is much nicer than I thought it would be.”
Did he just admit out loud that he thought his daughter was living in a hovel?
His gaze lingered on the table, the dusty candle I’d pulled out the back of a cupboard sitting in the middle of the cold food, then turned my way, taking me in from head to toe. “You look beautiful, by the way. I always loved that dress.”
I didn’t wear it for you.
I grabbed my baking apron, looped it over my head and yanked the strings. “Is this about Teddy?”
“No.”
Then I didn’t want to hear it. “Maybe we can talk another time? Like I said, I’m busy—”
“This is really important.” Shaking his head, he came close enough for me to smell his cologne.
The one I used to buy him every anniversary.
It was suddenly too strong in my nose. Cloying.
Metallic. Alistair always smelled of mint and antiseptic.
“If I don’t tell you now, without him here, I might not get another chance. ”
“Who?”
“Macabe.” Spittle flew from Cameron’s mouth as he hissed his name. “He’s pretty hard to miss since he’s been practically attached to your hip for weeks.”
And just like that, I was done.
He’d come all the way out here to talk about Alistair when he couldn’t even give his daughter thirty minutes of his time.
An image of Teddy and Alistair last week flashed into my mind.
Spread out on the living room rug, they’d spent hours building a Lego castle together.
Not once had Alistair grown tired of her chatting or shut her down.
When she talked, he didn’t only listen to appease – he was genuinely interested in what she had to say.
She was never invisible to him. Never a burden.
“Careful Cam,” I said, trying to keep my voice level, cool. “You almost sound jealous.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Maybe once,” I admitted, backing up against the sofa. “Now I don’t think of you at all, honestly.”
He winced. After several awkward seconds he said, “Isla, you’re . . . I don’t know, different now. I can’t put my finger on it.”
It’s confidence, I thought. I’m no longer the little shadow of a woman who settled for scraps of affection. But he didn’t deserve the energy it would take to speak the words aloud, so I just sighed and said, “I think you should leave.”
“It’s about Macabe—”
My gut squeezed. “What about him?”
“Look.” Hands on his hips, he puffed out a sigh, like what was to come would be as painful for him as it was for me. “I didn’t want to put it quite so bluntly, but he’s not who you think he is.”
I laughed, a part of me refusing to believe he was doing this right now. “If it’s the sleeper-spy thing, don’t worry, he already told me everything.”
“You know I hate sarcasm.”
“And I don’t care anymore.” I had better things to be doing. I turned for the door.
“Wait! Wait, please.” He grabbed my arm. “That came out wrong. But tell me what he’s said about Glasgow? Why he’s here?”
“His dad got sick. He inherited the surgery.” I extracted my arm with a sharp tug. “Not that it’s any of your business.” No way would I tell him the rest. The details were Alistair’s business.
“Of course that’s what he told you.” He chuckled, a bitter sound I’d never thought him capable of. “Playing the white knight, right?”
“Cameron—”
“He was forced out, Lala.”
A mini cyclone swept through the room. Nothing but tumbleweeds. How did he know about that?
He took my silence for ignorance, pouncing quickly.
“It’s true, he got lazy at work, fucked up and misdiagnosed a young woman.
A heart condition they could have caught, but she almost died,” he explained eagerly.
“He tried to pin it on a senior doctor, attacked him right in the middle of the surgery. Then he went AWOL for two weeks. They nearly fired him, Isla, but settled on a mandatory sabbatical. That’s why he’s really here.
Don’t you see?” he pleaded. “He ruined his career, now he’ll use his experience from running his dead dad’s practice to negotiate himself a better job back in Glasgow.
” My ears felt like they were ringing. “His plan is actually pretty clever: use you to warm his bed at night, then he’ll go back to his old life like nothing ever happened.
He’s searching for his replacement, you know, got some fancy head-hunter in the city working for him. I heard he’s already interviewing.”
I ignored the final jab, though it felt like he’d slapped me.
Just like that, it all made sense. How Alistair had acted like a bear with a thorn in his paw those first months. His insistence he wasn’t a good man. The guilt he carried. The belief he needed to prove himself, to his dad, to . . . everyone. “How could you possibly know all this?”
“I have a friend who’s a journalist. I asked him to poke around.” He almost smiled as he said it.
“You had someone investigate him?” That was . . . sickening.
Even if Alistair had lied to me – which he hadn’t – the violation from Cameron was so much worse.
He looked like a proud little boy who’d won a game, while I felt like he’d torn my rib cage open. Shredded it right down the middle until my heart was exposed.
“I had no other choice. Don’t you get it?” He came closer. “Whatever promises he made you, it’s just a game to him.”
“He hasn’t lied to me.” Alistair had given me the bare bones of the story. He hadn’t lied . . . yet I felt like my blood had frozen in my veins, then started pumping around my body in the wrong direction.
A disagreement over a patient, he’d said. Not that it had been his patient . . . his mistake.
Oh god.
“Yes, he has. He’s a liar, Lala. I don’t know how you can’t see it.” Cameron ran a hand through his perfect hair. “What about the money for Teddy’s school trip, did he tell you he paid that?”
“What? Cameron—”
“It’s true. I was so confused when you thanked me for it the other day, that’s why I started digging around. The school confirmed the account details. It was him, Isla.”
My pulse pounded in my ears. Each thought tripping over the next. Cameron caught my hands, cupping them between his own, exactly the way he used to.
It felt wrong now.
Too intimate.
I shook my head. Refusing to believe it. “I need to talk to Alistair.”
“I’m not done.” I somehow sensed the words that were about to come out of his mouth.
“I need to tell you that I – I want you back. I want my family back, you and Teddy.” He was talking so quickly I struggled to keep up.
“I was so stupid, stressed at the restaurant, and I had this fear that life was passing me by, only being with one woman for the rest of my life. But I’ve done it now, Isla.
I know for certain that I’ll never want anyone but you.
We can go back to the way things were. Just the three of us. ”
“What about Annabelle?” My voice sounded far away. Like it belonged to someone else.
He shook his head, anguished. “I’ve been trying to put on a brave face, but Annie and me – we’re too similar, both of us so ambitious all we do is fight.
But seeing you with Macabe, it made me realise how stupid I’ve been.
What a fool I was to give you up when we were so good together.
Remember the wedding we used to talk about?
We can still have that.” He cupped my cheek, forcing my eyes to meet his.
The wrong eyes.
“We were kids then.” I pulled against his grip. Even if he was right about Alistair, could he truly think I’d still want him? After he’d torn our family apart and taken such delight in hurting me.
“We can have that again,” he said. “We can be a family.”
A few months ago, I would have taken his offer, even through my anger.
But now it left me cold.
“We aren’t a family, Cameron. You don’t treat family how you treated us—”
“But—”
“You ripped up my life. Ignored us – for months. Without a second thought, you’ve broken your daughter’s heart over and over again, and now you’re telling me, what?
That it was all for the fear of missing out?
” We were worth so much more than he’d ever given us.
“I wouldn’t take you back if you were the last man on earth. ”
Hurt slashed across his face. In our entire relationship, I don’t think I’d ever spoken to him that way.
It felt better than it should have.
His jaw tightened and I watched him smooth a hand down his chest, pulling all of his carefully controlled pieces back together. “Fine.” He rolled his shoulders back and started for the door.
I stood, frozen against the sofa, wishing more than anything that he could walk out of my life for good.
He opened the door and paused, his back still to me as he said, “You know he’s going to hurt you, right, Lala?” One last parting shot.
“No more than you ever did,” I threw back. “And don’t call me Lala. I always hated that nickname.”
“I’ll be waiting to pick up the pieces when you come to your senses.” With that, he thundered out into the night, the door slamming back into the frame.
The wood hadn’t even finished groaning when I realised I’d lied.
Alistair had the ability to hurt me more deeply than anyone. Alistair knew it too. Why else would he have been warning me all this time?