Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
Katie
I stare at my computer screen and read the email for the tenth time. Elation builds from my toes up as the words sink in.
Dear Miss Clark,
Thank you for your recent manuscript submission.
I’m delighted to offer you a publishing contract with us at Miller Publishing. We would like to book you for three novels over the next two-year period.
I will forward our contract and payment terms later today for your consideration.
Congratulations. I look forward to working with you.
Kind Regards,
Celia Miller
Miller Publishing
Miller Publishing. The biggest publishing house in the UK. Fucking hell.
Any success I’ve had with my books has been self-published. Fun, hard work, and one hundred percent mine.
But this is a whole new level; my writing has the opportunity to fly. I’m dumbstruck. Life does start to feel as if it is coming together, and, for the first time, I’m looking forward to the new year ahead.
I grab my phone to text Lance my good news, but stop myself.
No, I want to tell him in person. I want to see his face. He’s listened to me drone on and on about my writing, publishing, and the ‘impossible’ dreams. All the ‘what ifs’ and ‘if only’ talks are suddenly becoming real.
I know he’s going to be excited for me. That thought warms me through. It’s like he channels my lost friend, Bex: equal parts cheerleader and ass-kicker.
Thinking of her makes me wonder how her family is feeling. They must miss her terribly. This is their second holiday season without her. They say time heals. I don’t think that’s true. You learn to live with it.
I drag my attention back to my email before I start falling down the grief spiral. It was a shock to receive it, especially between Christmas and New Year. I type a quick reply, thanking her for the offer and saying I look forward to receiving the contract, not wanting to seem too eager.
Treat them mean is the advice. Hopefully, that motto works for publishers as well as men. My fingers shake. I need to stay calm instead of acting like a crazed lunatic. But this is so fucking exciting.
A chorus of animal sounds carries through the cottage. My heart lifts. Lance has arrived.
He pushes open the front door, and his huge body fills the frame. I love the fact he doesn’t knock anymore. He just walks in like he belongs here. It should terrify me, but it doesn’t.
Then the annoying part of my brain kicks in.
He’s not yours to keep. This is a fling, nothing more. It has an expiration date.
But can a fling last for months? And include romantic breaks away?
I shove the thoughts aside. I can worry about my feelings later. Preferably never.
He strides into the room and sweeps me into his arms. He lifts and spins me like I weigh nothing. I’m not a small woman. My ex never let me forget it, always ready with a dig. Lance makes me feel… respected, loved, and very female.
“Are you ready to have an amazing new year?” he whispers in my ear, teeth grazing my jaw. Goosebumps scatter over my skin as arousal pops like champagne bubbles.
“Yes, and we’re celebrating.”
He raises an eyebrow in question. “Oh, yeah?”
“I got a publishing offer.”
“Katie! That’s incredible,” he yells, crushing me in a bear hug.
“I’m going to congratulate you all night long.
” He pulls back, eyes shining. “You can tell me all about it in the car. Let’s go.
I can’t wait to get you to the hotel room.
If we stay here any longer, we’ll end up delayed. I can’t keep my hands off you.”
He gives me a cheeky wink, grabs my hand, and tows me toward the door. My hot-pink suitcase sits on the porch, and he scoops it up with the other hand.
Both the suitcase and I are piled into the car.
“Who’s looking after all the animals?” he asks, as if he’s just remembered they need feeding.
I giggle. He’s become unexpectedly attached to a few members of Eden House Zoo.
“Don’t worry. You remember Harold? The scary driver?” He nods. “Turns out he’s not too bad. Last time he popped in, he gave me his number.”
Darkness flashes across his face.
“In case of an emergency,” I finish, giggling at the flicker of jealousy.
“Anyway, I told him about our trip. He offered to oversee things here. Plus, he cleared it with the Edens. He has some work to catch up on in the main house anyway.” I shiver.
“I still have no idea what is going on in that dusty old place. The whole thing gives me the creeps.”
Lance grunts, eyes fixed on the road. “I’m just glad I have you all to myself for a few days. Let’s forget about everything Aviemore.”
***
Edinburgh Castle sits proudly on the volcanic rock, watching over the city like it has for centuries.
Our hotel room has a wall of glass looking out over the city’s rooftops. Lights twinkle, and there’s excitement in the air. Tomorrow we’re attending the huge Hogmanay—Scottish New Year’s Eve—street party. It promises to be an amazing night.
Tonight, though, is for wining and dining in a fancy restaurant nearby. Lance has promised to give me a tour of the main attractions that are open in the city too.
My outfit is laid out across the gigantic four-poster bed, swathed in red satin sheets and a ridiculous number of cushions. I pick up the fitted purple dress for the hundredth time.
Why did I think this would look good on me? I’ll be mutton dressed as lamb.
I sigh with defeat, then bite the bullet and get ready. My confidence in my appearance ebbs away as I smooth the dress again, a pathetic attempt to push away the years on my skin. The blazing sign that I’m older. And he shouldn’t be with me. What we have isn’t forever; he’s not who I should want.
Lance has escaped to the bar. He looked incredible when he left—dark jeans and a fitted black shirt. Sharp, gorgeous, one hundred percent male and in his prime.
I, on the other hand, apply another layer of foundation to my face. As the years pass, my make-up routine is becoming more like a jigsaw, filling in the lines and painting over the cracks to create the finished picture. Sadly, I never end up looking like a Van Gogh. The mark always seems missed.
When I’m done, strong lines define my eyes, and ruby red lips complete the look. My reflection looks good. Acceptable at least.
Also, undeniably late-forties. Older than him.
My heart sinks as I imagine us together at the restaurant. People staring. The odd couple. Whispering their disgust.
Resolving that I’m not going to be able to hide in my room forever, I pick up my jacket and bag to head downstairs.
Lance sits at the bar, a glass of whisky in hand. He’s chatting with a couple roughly my age. The man looks dapper, dressed in a sharp suit, while the woman wears a floor-length gown and has chic bobbed hair. As I approach, all eyes turn to me.
“Here she is,” Lance says, smiling warmly. “Katie Clark, let me introduce you to Brigadier Marshall and his lovely wife, Stephanie.”
Surprised flickers in their eyes before they remember their manners.
“Lovely to meet you, Katie,” they say in unison. I smile politely and shake their hands.
“Major McDonald and I have been stationed together on various tours,” the Brigadier says, voice rich with respect. “He’s one hell of a soldier. Did he tell you about evacuating the school?”
“No, Lance hasn’t told me that story.” I give him a shy smile. “He’s always modest. Not one to blow his own trumpet.”
Lance rolls his eyes. “I try to leave the war zones where they are. Personally, I don’t want to relive the memories.”
The Brigadier nods, and the two men fall into conversation about Lance’s future— whether he will stay in the army or not. I know how conflicted he is over the issue. We’ve spent hours going round in circles on it.
Stephanie turns to me. “Shall we get a seat, Katie? Let these two talk business.”
I want to say no, but clamp my tongue between my teeth. So much for our romantic night. But seeing Lance talk to someone he respects about his future silences my annoyance. The decision to stay or leave the army is too important; I’ll support him getting any help he can in coming to the right one.
Stephanie and I move to an old leather sofa by an open fire. The flames crackle like popping-candy. I sit, hyper-aware of every line on my face. She smiles kindly, but I can feel her weighing and measuring me. Every minuscule movement I make evidence of something to assess.
“How long have you been seeing the major?” she asks.
“Only a few months. We met while walking our dogs. I had an unfortunate incident with a log and fell into a stream. Lance,”—I pause to consider my words—”helped me, and we became friends.”
“Friends?” she repeats, one eyebrow arching.
I feel a ridiculous need to justify myself. The words come hurried, like an apology. “Yes, friends, then more. I know our relationship is unconventional, but it works.”
“Hmm.” She drops her gaze, then looks back at me. “You know he recently split from his wife? He’s not in a good place. James, my husband, is concerned about him making snap decisions and sending his life in the wrong direction.”
Her words are a punch in my gut. My fragile confidence plummets.
“I’m sure you’re a lovely woman, Katie. But I must question your interest in a young man like Lance. Twenty years from now, you’ll be nearing your twilight years, and he’ll only be in his fifties with years ahead of him. You’ll limit his opportunities to live life to the fullest.”
She sighs as if she believes she’s doing me a favor. “From the conversations James has had with him recently, it’s clear you have him by the balls. He’s besotted with you. I urge you to do the right thing and set him free.”
She leans in, voice low. “Women our age should not be sleeping with young men his age. It’s wrong.” With that, she stands and walks off toward the bathroom.
I watch her go, my cheeks hot, heart cracked. Dumbfounded. And agreeing with her.
A large hand lands on my shoulder. “Are you ready to go, Katie?”
“Yes, I’m starving.” I force a smile. Then turn to the Brigadier standing next to Lance. “It was a pleasure meeting you both.”
He smiles knowingly. For a horrible second, I can’t help but wonder if this chance meeting was planned.
The restaurant is small and intimate. It’s nestled in a small side lane off the main shopping street, Princes St. The décor is old fashioned and cozy, with dim lighting and fussy decorations. The smells drifting from the kitchen make my taste buds dance.
“Did you know the Brigadier and his wife would be here?” I ask, once we’re seated.
Lance’s eyes rise to mine. “Yes and no. I knew they were in Edinburgh. They knew where we were staying. I wasn’t surprised they appeared.”
The sliver of hope I was holding onto that it was all a coincidence snaps.
It wasn’t a chance meeting; tonight was an intervention.
An intervention by people who care deeply about the man I’m falling for.
A couple who are looked up to, their opinions hold weight.
And to them, without even knowing me, I’m not good enough.
“You know them well then?”
“Hell, yeah, I’ve known them my entire army career.
He’s an inspiration to me. Steph’s his rock; she’s an amazing army wife.
” He smiles, lost in memories with them.
“They’ve always been a big support to me.
They were upset with what happened when I got home in the summer.
It was James who arranged the extra time off, so I had space to decide what I wanted to do next. ”
I nod. Not trusting my lips not to say something that I’ll regret. A heaviness falls on the happiness I’ve learned to live with. Deep down, it feels like the beginning of the end.
Our meal is delicious. Our conversation flows like it always does. Lance and I gel; it’s a relationship I’ve never experienced before with a man. One where I don’t need to consider his feelings first before speaking. Where our experience is equally important, he wants to make me happy as I do him.
But I can’t get Stephanie’s words out of my head.
Women our age should not be sleeping with young men his age.
As terrifying as it is, I know what has to happen.
No matter how I feel when I’m with him, the simple truth is we shouldn’t be together. He has decades ahead to create a family, but I need to be planning for retirement. My twenty-year plan and his are poles apart, the way they should be.
I need to let Lance McDonald go.