Chapter 23
LENA
Alittle one on the way… Jo’s words pulsed on repeat in my mind. Everyone’s head was turned in my direction, curious whispers starting, secret smiles being shared. Next to me, Tess hummed uncertainly.
Now was not the time to go public with things that was nobody’s business.
Well, there was one person. I looked at Weston. His eyes were wide, his mouth open, but his expression was unreadable. What the hell was he thinking? Bile climbed up the back of my throat as Weston started moving in my direction.
Tess snatched my hand, drawing my attention. Her eyebrows were pulled into a tight knot, worry clear in the tense set of her mouth. “Lena, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lied. Please don’t make it a thing, please don’t.
God, I was going to be sick again! But we didn’t have time for that.
Weston and I were due on stage in—I checked my watch—three minutes.
We had a speech to deliver and a plaque to present and…
I blinked at the intense pressure behind my eyes because something that’d taken me years to accept suddenly wasn’t acceptable. And, was that grief?
“Lena,” Tess started again. The sympathy in her voice made me cringe.
“You’ll be okay for a few minutes?” I said instead, forcing a smile. Forcing myself to be as chipper as I should have been. “Festival duties call.”
Tess cocked her head, eyeing up Weston’s friends. “I’ve got a double dose of tall, dark, and handsome standing in front of me. I’ll be just fine.” She squeezed my hand, still looking mildly concerned. “But find me after. I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”
“Hey,” Weston said, finally reaching us, his gaze wide, bright. He looked…almost excited, and that made my heart thud uncomfortably against my ribcage. He opened his mouth, and I was terrified of the words that might tumble out.
“We’re due on stage,” I hurried to say, interrupting him as I took a step back, avoiding his hand before it could loop around my arm. “People have already started gathering.”
“Right, the speech,” he said, shaking his head the way he did when he was trying to get his thoughts in order. “Okay, yes. Speech first.”
“Let’s not keep them waiting,” I said, twisting on my heel. I reached the stage, latching onto the railing for support, my thoughts spinning and going back to the day when I got the news.
Weston’s arm wrapped around my waist, and I leaned into him, letting myself soak in his comfort. The pressure behind my eyes intensified. I blinked away the feeling.
“Are you okay?” he whispered. “Do you need me to get you anything?”
I swallowed hard, glancing awkwardly at the gathered crowd.
My eyes landed on Tess, then Locke and Alistair, and then Jo, who was beaming so boldly it made me want to wretch again.
Isla waved from the side of the stage, lifting her camera to capture this moment.
I ran my hand through my hair, tugging at the strands.
Old hurts surfaced, making my stomach churn.
Focus.
“Lena,” Weston said, the sound of my name on his lips making my jaw tremble. “What is it?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
We were surrounded by too many people. Too many eyes and ears.
Now was not the time for a heart-to-heart talk.
I just needed to get through to the end of this damn speech and then we could be alone.
Then I could tell him something that I never would’ve shared with him if he were just my boss.
Weston cradled my jaw with his hands, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I can do this on my own,” he said. “If you’re not feeling up to it.”
I ground my teeth together. I shouldn’t be letting this affect me so much. I needed to pull myself together.
Damnit, I couldn’t do this.
“Okay,” I whispered, shoving the cue cards into his hands. He didn’t need me.
Weston pressed one more fleeting kiss to my hairline, then walked out on stage, his perfect smile in place as he unveiled the plaque with Pete and Ellen’s likeness etched into the surface.
The plaque that would forever be mounted in the community center.
Unease stirred inside me. I swallowed down the discomfort as Weston’s words reached me: “I am beyond proud that my wife and I are carrying on the tradition of community and togetherness that meant so much to my grandparents.”
I smiled and waved at the appropriate moments counting the seconds until he finished.
“I want to thank all the wonderfully talented and hardworking community members who made this festival possible. And most of all, I’d like to dedicate today to Grandad Pete,” Weston continued.
“He showed me how to be the kind of man I want to be. The kind who shows up for his community and cares for his neighbors. So raise…whatever you have!”
The crowd laughed.
“Your Scotch eggs or your espresso, and join me in toasting Pete Kincaid, a man who is sorely missed, today most of all.”
The crowd cheered. Applause echoed off the buildings.
And then, thank God, it was over.
Weston waved, walked across the stage, and took my hand, linking our fingers like we were the most perfect couple in the world. When we reached the sidewalk, he turned to me, taking both my hands in his. “About before—”
“Not here,” I said quickly. “Not now.” This was a private conversation.
A hand fell to my shoulder. “Oh, love, you’re so pale.”
It was Jo.
“Why don’t you go home and rest,” she said.
My God! If she didn’t stop popping up every two seconds, I was going to scream.
“I’m fine,” I assured her. “Really.” I lifted my clipboard.
“There’s still so much to oversee.” There were more food tastings and competitions, and we hadn’t even had the kilted dash yet.
“Plus, someone needs to make sure the gin tasting doesn’t get out of hand. ”
Jo plucked the clipboard from my hand. “The committee and I can take care of all that.”
“I don’t think—”
“What do I look like, a lumpy, old pudding? I’ve wrangled people in my day,” Jo said, hand on her hip. “And now I’m insisting that you go home.” She shoved me into Weston’s arms. “And I’m insisting that you take her.”
“You’re sure?” Weston asked, sounding uncertain himself.
“It’s nearly done anyway, and the committee will handle everything that’s left.” Jo waved us on. “That’s why we have a committee. And you two deserve a break. You did so well, my dears.”
I glanced up at Weston, my insides twisting again as he took my hand, leading me to the car.
We drove back to Lochbrae in silence. It was so quiet we could both hear the clawing sound of my stomach growling.
A few times it seemed like Weston might say something, but I turned to the window, staring out at the gray clouds that swirled over the sea, and he stayed quiet all the way back to the house.
“I don’t suppose Agnes will return until later tonight,” Weston said as we stepped out of the car in front of the castle ten minutes later and headed for the front doors. “She dotes on Kenna any time she’s around. Oh, that’s Alistair’s—”
“Daughter,” I said, voice thick. “I remember. I spotted them while I was making the rounds. She’s cute.”
“You should hear the adorable way she says Unca Weston,” he said as we walked through the door, pausing in the front hall. Awkwardness flooded in like high tide. He looked down at me. “If you’re hungry, I could probably throw something together for you.”
I shook my head. “I’m not hungry.”
“Your stomach was growling in the car,” he pointed out. “How about some tea to start? Even I can’t mess that up.”
I gave him a watery smile, biting my lip and shaking my head.
“Lena—”
“Can we sit down?”
“Of course.” He took my hand and led me to the couch in the library.
It was the comfiest one in the entire castle, by far, and as I sank into his side, his arm wrapping around my shoulders, I swallowed hard.
I didn’t know where to start, but as Weston pressed his lips to my temple, the pressure to say something was so intense that I blurted, “I’m not pregnant! ”
Okay, that came out way louder than I’d intended. I pulled back from his arms, taking in the puzzled expression on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…I just…Well, I’m not,” I said definitively. “And I just thought you should know.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding slowly, his eyebrows twitching. “Why did Jo think you were?”
I gave a sharp laugh. Goddamn small towns and their fiendish need for gossip and assumptions. “Because I got sick after the haggis tasting. Because apparently a girl can’t throw up some sheep’s stomach in peace without being accused of being with child.”
“So it was just a bad reaction to the food?”
“And the stress and the fact that the weather got pretty warm today and I hadn’t had enough water. Combine all that, and things just weren’t sitting right.”
He stroked my hair behind my ear. “You’re absolutely sure you’re not—”
“I’m positive,” I said firmly, squeezing his hand.
“Okay,” he said after a hollow beat. A small smile curled up the side of his face. “Was that what you were so worried about telling me? Did you think I’d be upset? I’m not—honestly, it’s probably better this way.”
Relief filled me. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear you say that.”
“Our relationship is still so new,” he continued, tilting my chin up to peck my lips. “I know how this marriage started—hard and fast.” He huffed a laugh. “Jumping right into having a baby definitely would have been rushing things.”
My heart fell. Oh, no. Here we go.
“It’s okay,” he insisted, pulling me close.
Kissing my forehead. My eyelids. The bridge of my nose.
“I mean, I know you’ve said you want kids.
But we haven’t even talked about if we’re ready for them now, or how having a baby might impact our plans.
I know how important grad school is to you. There’s no rush.”
I shook my head, my thoughts unspooling.