by Carrie Elks
‘If you just talked occasionally, it would help. And I don’t mean telling him what clothes you’re wearing whenever he calls.’
Her cheeks pinked up. Grant knew about that?
‘Seriously, call him. Stop dancing around each other, it’s getting you nowhere. He misses you, he wants you, but he’s scared. Since he was a kid he’s been determined to pull himself out of the life he was born into. Determined to prove himself to his dad and his brother and God knows who else. He’s still learning that life isn’t just about winning, but about enjoying the journey.’
‘I could help him.’
‘You already started. But you got interrupted mid-project.’
‘I’ll call him,’ she said, her mind made up. ‘But what if he doesn’t answer?’
‘You tell me. Will that be enough for you to give up? Are you that afraid of being rejected?’
She was. But maybe she could stop letting the fear guide her. Maybe she could make herself vulnerable, open herself up, and see where the breeze took her. Yes, it was going to be as scary as hell, and yes she’d stumble on the way. But the alternative – to lose him – was even more painful.
‘Grant?’
‘Yes?’ he said patiently.
‘What agreement did he come to with his brother?’
‘How about you ask him that?’ Grant suggested. ‘All I can say is he seems happy with the situation.’
She nodded, still clutching the phone to her ear. ‘Yes, I’ll ask him.’
‘That’s good.’
It was, wasn’t it? Even if her whole body was shaking at the thought. They said their goodbyes and she gently replaced the phone on the receiver, tapping the plastic casing with her fingers, deep in thought.
She couldn’t help but remember the way he’d flown to Edinburgh that Friday night, giving her the shock of her life in the most exquisite way. He’d made a grand gesture, made her feel wanted, cherished, taken care of. Opened his heart to her when he told her he wanted more.
Maybe it was her turn to make a grand gesture right back.
33
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, all
losses are restor’d and sorrows end
– Sonnet 30
‘What did you say?’ His mom leaned forward, her mouth pinched tightly together. She was so much better than the last time he’d seen her, her breathing regular thanks to the tubes in her nose. She was on the ball, too, her eyes glistening as she waited for his answer. So much healthier now she was back in her care home.
‘I said Duncan and I have come to an agreement.’
‘Did you lose the case?’ She frowned, shaking her head. ‘We should appeal. Was it that solicitor you had? Maybe you should get a different one.’
He swallowed away the taste of Lucy’s memory. ‘It wasn’t the solicitor’s fault. The case didn’t even make it to court. Duncan and I have been talking.’
She winced at the mention of his half-brother’s name. ‘You have? Why?’ She looked confused. ‘I thought you were going to fight and win.’
‘Just because I didn’t fight, doesn’t mean I lost,’ Lachlan pointed out. ‘I’m more than happy with the agreement we came to.’
She was silent for a moment, taking in his words. It was impossible not to see the expression of disappointment on her face. ‘But you wanted your father’s inheritance. We talked about this the last time you were here. You were going to show them all exactly who you were. That you were the rightful heir to everything they wanted.’
‘I realised something along the way,’ he told her, his voice soft. ‘A prize is only worth fighting for if you want it. I’ve never really wanted anything my father had. All I wanted was his love, and that was something I could never get.’ And all the titles in the world weren’t going to get him what he never had.
‘But it will make you legitimate,’ she protested.
He shook his head. ‘Nothing would make me legitimate. And it doesn’t change any of their minds about me. It’s only made things worse. I don’t have anything to prove to them, not any more.’ Maybe he never did. From the moment he was conceived, he never really stood a chance in the MacLeish family. And no wonder. He represented his father’s weakness, his betrayal. They would much rather have ignored his existence than acknowledge him as part of the family.
His mother reached out to stroke his cheek. ‘But they hurt you, over and over again. They deserve to feel the pain, too.’
‘Because of my father’s mistakes?’ Lachlan asked. ‘No, I don’t agree. Duncan didn’t ask to have an illegitimate brother, any more than I asked to be born. And his mother didn’t ask to be cheated on either.’
She winced. ‘We were in love…’
‘No, you were in love.’ Lachlan could see it clearly now. ‘He took you for a ride then pushed you out of the car. And for years I think you hoped he’d fall in love with me, and that would make him love you, too. But that’s not the way love works, Mom. You can’t make somebody love you if they’re not ready to do it.’ His voice cracked, his emotions shining through the gap. ‘And getting a pointless title isn’t going to change any of that.’
‘So that’s it. You’ve given up?’
‘No.’ It didn’t feel like giving up. It felt like he’d been wasting so much energy chasing something he was never going to get. ‘I’ve decided to concentrate on things that are more important to me.’
‘Like what?’
He shrugged. ‘My work, my health. Happiness. Maybe even settle down with my own family eventually.’
‘Your own family?’ Her expression softened. ‘Have you met somebody?’
He blew out a mouthful of air. It still hurt to talk about it. Hurt to think about it, even. And yet that was nothing compared to the pain of not thinking about her. She was in everything he did.
‘I met her and I lost her,’ he said.
He felt his mom slip her fingers between his, squeezing his hand tightly. She was surprisingly strong for a sick woman. ‘You had your heart broken?’ she whispered.
‘Something like that.’ Lachlan’s attempt at a smile slid into a grimace.
She stared at him, her lips pursed together in sympathy. ‘Who is she?’ she finally asked.
‘Her name is Lucy,’ Lachlan told her. Just saying it was like another stab to the heart. ‘She’s beautiful, she’s funny, and she’s everything I never knew I wanted.’
His mom frowned. ‘So what happened?’
‘I let her slip through my fingers because I couldn’t give her what she needed. And she left me.’ Shit, was his voice breaking? He coughed, to try to even it out.
‘She must have been very special for you to fall in love with her.’
He looked up, into her unblinking blue eyes. Like his, they were as vivid as the ocean. ‘I didn’t say I loved her.’
‘You didn’t have to.’
No he didn’t. He felt it through his entire body, every time he thought about her smile, her voice, the way she would curl into him in the middle of the night. He could almost feel her there now, could almost smell the floral fragrance of her shampoo, hear her soft laughter.
Yes, he was in love with her. In love with Lucy Shakespeare, the most beautiful, funny and aggravating woman he’d ever met. No wonder he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
‘I do love her,’ he whispered, to himself more than his mother.
His mom laughed. ‘Don’t sound so unhappy about it.’
He shook his head, still trying to think straight. ‘I said some messed-up things to her…’
She listened as he told her the whole story, occasionally interrupting to ask him a question. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so honest with his mom, or the last time he’d been this emotional about anything.
‘It doesn’t sound irretrievable,’ she finally said, her hand still squeezing his. ‘It just sounds like you’re both as stubborn as hell. You’ve finally found your match, darling.’
For the first
time he laughed, and it felt good. ‘You’re not wrong. She’s like a wild animal, almost impossible to tame.’
‘I know you, Lachlan. If you want something badly enough, you don’t give up until you have it.’ She licked her lips – the oxygen was always making them dry. ‘You didn’t want your father’s title badly enough, I get that.’ There was still a note of disappointment in her voice. ‘But this girl, if you want her, you’ll have to fight until you get her. You’ve never shied away from a fight before.’
But maybe the stakes had never been so high before, either. He’d lost her once, the thought of losing her for the second time was devastating. There was part of him – the old Lachlan – that wanted to slink off and lick his wounds, to soothe them with meaningless liaisons and his usual workaholism.
But that was the coward’s way out. He’d been doing those things for long enough – for years, according to Jenn – and they’d done nothing but dull the pain.
Lucy was the biggest prize he’d ever fought for and lost. Was he brave enough to throw himself into the ring for a second round?
The hotel bar was half-empty. He’d spent most of the evening catching up with the work he’d missed during his visit to his mom, writing emails and making calls, and asking Grant to rearrange his diary just one more time. Ever stoic, his friend and assistant had patiently moved meetings around and changed some into videoconferences, while muttering to himself that Lachlan had finally lost it.
And maybe he had. But somehow he felt like he was gaining something, too. A peace of mind he’d never felt before.
‘I promise this is the last time,’ Lachlan told Grant down the phone, taking a sip of the ice-cold beer the waitress had slid onto the table.
‘I’ll believe that when I see it,’ Grant said, his voice warm with humour. ‘Anyway, I can get you on the red eye into Heathrow on Monday night. That will give you enough time to meet with your British investors before taking the train up to Edinburgh. Does that work?’
‘Yeah, sure.’
‘When do you want to fly back? Should I book it to New York?’
Lachlan didn’t have an answer to that one. The fact was, it all depended on her. On whether she’d give him the time of day, or whether she’d had enough of him already. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. Some of the condensation from his cold beer glass had dripped on to the wooden table. He reached out with his finger, tracing patterns into the water. ‘I need to visit with Alistair too, bring him up to speed with the situation. Let’s leave it flexible.’
‘Sure.’ Grant still sounded amused.
‘Burger and fries?’ The waitress was smiling when he looked up at her. She slid the plate in front of him,
He breathed in the aroma – meaty and hot. ‘I didn’t order any food.’ It smelled good, though, enough to send a grumble through his stomach.
‘I thought you looked hungry.’ Another woman appeared behind the waitress. One with blonde hair, a heart-shaped face and eyes that kept him awake at night.
‘Lucy?’ He stood, his chair scraping the wooden floor behind him. It took him a moment to become aware he was still holding his cellphone against his ear, Grant’s voice asking him what the heck was going on.
‘You’re going to need to cancel that flight,’ Lachlan said into the mouthpiece, still unable to take his eyes from her. ‘I’ll call you back later.’
Grant didn’t protest at the sudden change in conversational direction. Instead, he said goodbye, hanging up straight away.
The waitress walked away, leaving only Lucy and Lachlan, plus the five feet of space between them. It seemed too much and not enough. His skin felt like it was on fire.
‘You’re here.’
She nodded, her chest rising and falling with her breaths. ‘The last time you flew in to see me you brought food. I’m just repaying the debt.’
‘You are?’ He was still having problems forming full sentences. She’d stolen those, too.
‘Yeah.’ She was nervous, he could tell by the way she was wringing her fingers together. ‘And the way I see it, apologies always go down better with food.’
His hands clenched and unclenched by his side. He wanted to reach out, to see if she was real. To feel the softness of her skin against his rough fingers, to feel her warmth melting into his own.
‘It’s not much fun eating alone,’ he said. ‘Will you join me?’ He pointed at the seat opposite his.
‘I only ordered one meal.’
‘I can share.’
Her hand shook as she reached for the chair, pulling it out so she could slide onto it. He sat back down, the table between them, and pushed the plate until it was in the middle, close enough for them both to reach. ‘Eat,’ he said.
She took a fry, but didn’t lift it to her mouth. He did the same, still staring at her. He’d forgotten how beautiful she was. How her skin looked like porcelain, the red discs on her cheeks as though they’d been painted by an artist. He knew every plane of that face; the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the way her sharp cheekbones gave way to the smooth dips below. And then there were her lips – pink, swollen, always so goddamned kissable.
‘I’m not really hungry,’ she confessed, still holding the fry.
‘Why not?’ He frowned.
‘I lost my appetite somewhere across the Atlantic.’
‘You flew in today?’
‘I arrived an hour ago.’
His chest felt full. She managed to ignite every tender emotion it was possible to feel. He wanted to pull her against him, tell her it was going to be okay. He wanted to take care of her, the same way she took care of everybody else. ‘Lucy —’
She lifted her hand up. The fry was still between her fingers. ‘No, please just listen to me for a minute. If I don’t say this now, I might lose my courage.’
He smiled, but said nothing. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her she was the bravest person he knew.
‘I’ve been an idiot,’ she said, letting out a mouthful of air after her words, as if relieved at finally admitting it. ‘I thought that if I could just keep everything under wraps then my family would be okay. But I was wrong. You told me as much yourself. It wasn’t my job to hide secrets from my sisters, and all I did was make things so much worse.’
He bit down hard on the inside flesh of his lip to stop himself from protesting. He was too curious to hear what she had to say to stop her from talking now.
‘And by trying to clear things up, I ended up making things even harder for myself. If I’d have just taken a while to think things through instead of jumping on the first plane home, then I wouldn’t have ended up hurting you,’ she blinked, her long eyelashes sweeping down, ‘and hurting myself at the same time.’ The French fry was still clasped between her fingers. She twisted it, pulling it apart, revealing the fluffy white interior. ‘I fell for you. And I was so scared you didn’t feel the same way that I ran back to London. And then instead of calling you or messaging you straight away, I panicked. I wanted you to be the first one to make a move even though I was the one who walked away.’
‘That’s not true.’ His voice was raspy. ‘I pushed you away. I was the one who told you to leave and never come back.’ He shook his head at his own words. ‘I was a fucking fool, and I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean a word of it.’
He thought of that airplane ticket that Grant was cancelling as they spoke. She was so close to the truth – he was planning to make the first move. Even if it had taken him too long to do it.
Her eyes were soft. ‘I’m sorry, too. For hurting you. I’m sorry for promising to be by your side at the gala and then walking out on you. I’m sorry for hiding and being too scared and too proud to call you when I should have done it straight away.’ She abandoned the fry, wiping her fingers on the napkin, before lifting it to dab at her eyes. ‘And you have no reason to forgive me. God knows, you’ve dealt with enough people letting you down in your life, there’s no reason to have one more.’
‘I forgave
you before you even left the airport,’ he told her, his throat tight. ‘It’s me I’m finding it hard to forgive.’
Wrinkling her nose at the now-cooling plate of food, she glanced up at him. ‘Are you at all hungry?’
He shook his head, still silent.
‘In that case, will you come to my room?’
A rumble of laughter rolled up through his abdomen, escaping his lips in a deep chuckle. ‘Are you trying to pick me up?’ he asked her.
Her eyes widened. ‘Oh God, no. I just wanted to show you something.’ The pink on her cheeks deepened to a vivid red.