When I realise I’m becoming light-headed, I take a deep breath. “I think I need some air,” I tell Jamie.
“Then let’s go,” he says, and slips his arm around my waist, guiding me into the lift.
“That man looks just like daddy,” Isaac says as we walk past.
“Hmm, that’s your Uncle James,” Ally tells the boy.
“And who’s the pretty lady?” Isaac goes on to ask, pulling at her hand.
Ally turns to face me just as the lift doors start to close. “She’s no one important, sweetie,” and her lips spread into a triumphant smile.
***
I wait in the car until Callum leaves. I still want to see granda, and Jamie’s had to go, to get back to work. I let out a sigh. The thought of being in the same room as Callum, or breathing the same air as him, turns my stomach. I’ve heard about men like Callum, leading double lives, but I never thought it possible. Yet not a million miles away is a man who proved me wrong.
I glance at the clock, then stare out of the windscreen to spot Callum and Ally walking out of the main entrance. My gut tightens and I feel a vein throb in my temple. Isaac’s in Callum’s arms and they’re both laughing, clearly enjoying father-and-son time together. The little boy wriggles in Callum’s embrace and there’s a light step to his walk, almost on tiptoes. Their laughter is carried to me by the wind and I can see the bond they share, a closeness I can only dream of.
A stab of jealousy pierces through my heart, sharper than any blade. I try to keep a tight lid on my emotions as I watch Callum have the life he once promised me. My eyes switch to Ally. Her hair is loose, her fingers entwined with his. They look every inch the happy couple and I close my eyes and push the tears away.
Did I truly love him? I wonder. Yes, for a while, I guess.
They all get into Ally’s white 4 x 4 and I slide down my seat as they head for the exit.
I wait a few minutes, check my rear-view mirror to ensure they’ve left, and then head back inside to see granda.
As I step out of the lift and into the corridor, I put on a painted smile. I nod to the nurse at the nurses’ station, realising it’s no longer the ward manager, then hurry over to granda’s bed. His eyes are closed and I fear he’s sleeping, but when I turn to leave, to creep away, his dulcet tone stops me.
“If ye think ye were only gone five minutes, ye need to buy a new watch,” he says, sarcastically.
I spin on my heels, a genuine grin spread across my lips.
“Sorry, Alasdair; I got slightly waylaid.”
“Ye dinnae say, lass. What’s going on between ye and Callum? He came here with a face like a smacked arse.”
I find it hard to swallow as I move closer to the bed and pull up a chair and sit down. “What do you mean?”
Granda lets out a deep sigh. “I maybe old, lass, but I’m not senile. Things havenae been right between ye two since ye got here. I can always tell when people are unhappy together.”
“Listen. You’re not to worry about us,” I say, picking up the beaker from the table and holding it to his lips. “Here, drink some of this.”
He gently pushes my hand away. “Have ye two reached the point of nae return?”
I lower my gaze, placing the beaker back onto its resting place, struggling to find the right words. “Kind of…I guess.”
He draws a long breath. “I cannae say I’m surprised. He was ne’er the right man for ye, in my opinion. He’s always been too self-centred.”
I blink several times, unable to digest what Alasdair has just said. “Granda! Why would you say such a thing?”
“Because it’s the truth, hen.”
“Then I may as well tell you he’s moving in with Ally.”
“The vet?” He shakes his head and tuts. “That dinnae take long.”
“I didn’t want to say anything, not with you being so ill.”
He shakes his head again and his veined blue fingers reach out to pat my hand. “I don’t need sheltering from his seedy escapades, and besides, I had a hunch he was up to no guid long before today.”
I stare into his watery grey eyes. “You were not to know he’s been seeing someone else.”
He pulls his lips into a grimace. “Although it saddens me to say it: best let him go, lass.”
“How do you know it’s the right thing to do?”
His fingers tighten around mine. “Because my màthair always told me: ne’er settle for second best. If ye do, you’ll ne’er find yir true soulmate.”
Footsteps come from behind me and I glance over my shoulder to see a staff nurse approaching.
“It’s time Mr McKinley got some rest,” she says. “I’m afraid visiting time is over.”
I automatically let go of Alasdair’s hand, stand up and go to plant a kiss on his cheek. His arms reach out and he wraps them around me, pulling me close.
“Just be happy,” he says in my ear, and when I pull away, he grabs my hand. “Ye only have one wee life, lassie, so live it to the full.”
***
I arrive back at the farm as darkness is descending, get out of the car and head towards the farmhouse. The downstairs lights are on and there’s a golden glow illuminating the frost covered windows.
I pause outside the front door, aware there’s a man inside who truly loves me. I smile to myself, happy and contented for the first time in a long time. Jamie is all the man I need. I think about that gleam in his eye and the way his arm curls around my waist and pulls me close, his warm breath on my cheek.
I loved Callum, truly I did. We had such hopes and dreams together; the flower shop, his great job, the hope of a better life for our children. But I chose to ignore the warning signs, to overlook his mood swings and his nights away, believing I simply wasn’t enough for him. Never for one second did I think it was something in his past.
My fingers tighten around the handle and I push the door wide. As I step inside, I breathe in deeply, inhaling the delicious aroma of pie, and my lips spread into a grin. Hetty’s clearly been here while I was away and brought the weekly supplies.
I take off my coat and hang it on the hook next to Jamie’s, and my fingers touch one of the sleeves. It’s the same coat he wore when he came to my rescue. I take off my boots and drop them noisily to the floor.
“What took ye so long?” Jamie calls out, and I follow his voice towards the kitchen. Pushing the door ajar, I see there are candles on the table, along with a small vase of red and white roses adorning its centre.
“What’s all this?” I ask in surprise.
Jamie’s standing by the stove, a pair of tatty old mitts in his hands.
“I thought I’d cook for ye,” and he opens the oven door and pulls out a brown pot covered with shortcrust pastry.
“What? You’ve made it yourself?” and I try to mask my amazement.
He hurries over to the table, placing the pie on a large serving mat.
“Aye, and dinnae look astounded. Hetty’s not the only one who can produce a meal from scratch.” He dashes back to the stove and takes out two more dishes, this time filled with roast potatoes, broccoli and buttered carrots.
“Best wash yir hands quickly, so this lot doesnae get cold,” he urges.
I hurry over to the stone sink and wash and dry my hands on a small threadbare towel. Placing it back on the rail, I turn to see that Jamie’s already seated at the table, pouring white wine.
I walk over and take a seat.
“The food looks scrumptious,” I say, placing a napkin across my knee. Jamie’s sitting next to me, and he picks up his wine glass and makes a toast.
“To new beginnings,” he says, and I lift my glass to his.
“To new beginnings, and to us,” I rejoin, and our glasses chink together. I take a sip then place my glass down onto the table. Jamie offers up a piece of venison pie.
“Help yourself to the vegetables,” he says, and pushes the dishes towards me.
I smile. Being with Jamie feels so natural. Any shyness
I may have felt vanished long ago. I’m relaxed for the first time in years and stare at him, as though seeing him for the first time. Twisting flames from the fire send flickers of bright orange light to dance upon his skin, his angular jaw now less prominent in the candlelight. He looks devilishly handsome sitting there in his open neck shirt. I stare at his throat and then towards his plump moist lips, at which I start to tingle all over. I lick my own lips, no longer tempted by the food.
“Jamie…”
His eyes catch mine and they widen as he reads the message written there. He leans forward, takes my hand and presses butterfly kisses to the tips of my fingers.
A slow burn ignites in the pit of my stomach and I look back at him with the same intensity. He rises and gently pulls me towards him, his hands then sliding across my shoulders and up behind my neck. And as his fingers entwine in my hair, I close my eyes.
His body shifts closer to mine and my heart flutters, my mind spinning when his lips touch mine. His tongue slips into my mouth and he tastes so good, like sherbet lemon mixed with wine. When he pulls away, my eyes shoot open and he guides me closer to the fire.
“I want ye so badly, my balls ache,” he says, huskily, and I giggle, not too sure whether I should be flattered or insulted.
The flickering flames warm our bodies as we stare at each other for an age. I don’t move, and neither does he, both lost to one another, and it’s sublimely divine. Jamie’s hands snake under my jumper and I feel his fingers slide against my skin. He bows his head and his kisses are no longer tender but filled with longing. I let out a low moan as my own passion mounts, and he lifts the jumper over my head, unhooking my bra.
Urgently, I unbutton his shirt and he throws it to the floor, quickly taking off his trousers as I unzip my jeans and pull my bare legs free. I lie naked on the rug as the sound of the fire snaps and crackles around us, then Jamie kneels and his arms stretch out beside me. With such tenderness, he leans forward and gently lies on top of me. As the flamelight flit across his face, I trace my fingers along his shoulders, sending ghostly shadows dancing across the walls. He has become my sun, my moon and stars—my everything.
Stroking my hair, Jamie rasps “Maddie,” my name magic on his lips.
“Yes,” I whisper, “what is it?”
“Are ye willin’ to have my bairns?”
“Bairns? That’s plural?” I gasp between hot kisses.
“Aye, well, I want at least four.”
My breath quickens as he angles himself over me, his body resting on mine, the pressure too delicious to bear.
“I’ll have as many as you’re willing to give me,” I say with tenderness, and he kisses me again as we move together as one, the heat from his body seeping into me, and I let out yet another low moan.
“I love you,” I say softly.
“And I, ye,” he breathes, lifting his hand so I can take it. “I’ll ne’er let ye go,” he whispers in my ear, and I pull him closer, wrapping my legs around him, contented he’s mine forever.
He lets out a groan and his body shudders then relaxes, his back now covered in sweat, and presently he looks down at me, his eyes soft, and I kiss him warmly and smile.
“Our first child will be a boy,” I say. “And we’ll name him Alasdair James McKinley.”
Mia’s life is spiralling out of control. The only person who can help save her is a man who’s already dead.
Cracks in the Glass
By
Lynette Creswell
Mia Stevens is a young girl on the verge of womanhood. Her mother is about to remarry, but her fiancé comes with serious baggage. His two sons are notorious for being troublemakers, the eldest, Jacob, wanting what he can’t have—Mia and his freedom.
Everything rides on the wedding, but Mia refuses to attend. Jacob sees his chance of a new start slipping away, and to frighten her into being cooperative, threatens her. Terrified he’ll do it again, she runs away to London, where she meets and falls in love with Ethan, a student.
When circumstances force her to attend her mother’s big day, her past comes back to haunt her. Attacked and left unconscious, Mia’s life spirals out of control. A new baby, a lost love and a life entwined with deceit and lies is only the beginning. Dark, suppressed secrets begin to unravel, and the only person who can help save her is a man who’s already dead.
‘A dramatic tale of love and heartbreak, this story gives you an emotional punch. It’s haunting, magical and full of surprises.’
Available Via Amazon.co.uk And Amazon.com
Follow Lynette on Twitter: @Creswelllyn
Website: [email protected]
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