“Well, let’s get on then. It’s cold and wet out here. If you don’t mind leaving your boots at the door. I don’t want us tracking mud through the clean house.”
We slip our boots off and I attempt to ignore how domestic it feels, mine and Jamie’s boots side by side on the foyer mat. Nope, definitely not thinking about that.
The cottage is bright and open. It’s not large, but the updated fixtures give it the rustic and homey feel I’m looking for in a home.
Home. A home for me and Lennox.
We’ve lived in a flat—a nice one, but a flat nonetheless—for his entire life, aside from the first two years when we lived with Mum and Dad. I can’t wait to give him a home like this. Somewhere with a garden and space to roam. And a community of people to support him that goes beyond me and his grandparents.
I fall more in love with the space the longer we walk through it. Each room has some small detail that makes me smile and makes this space feel exactly right. I can easily picture my four-poster bed in the master bedroom, and the bathroom has a clawfoot tubanda beautiful glass shower. The room that will be Lennox’s has a box window with a bench seat built in that looks out into the back garden. I can already picture him reading there. He has a true appreciation of books—something he got from me, but also from Jamie.
“I’ll take it,” I say to Jenny before she’s even finished showing us the kitchen—which, by chefs’ standards, is pretty nice. It’s not huge, but everything is new and clean and there’s enough room for Lennox and me to make a mess of ourselves baking.
“Fantastic!” she says, beaming. “I just need to pop out and make a call. Here’s the application. Feel free to look around a bit more if you like.” She walks out of the room and toward the porch, phone to her ear.
“It’s a great space, Avi,” Jamie says, and I watch his hand coast over the kitchen island as he moves around it to stand beside me. I look up into his face and can’t decipher what I’m seeing there, too overwhelmed by my own blend of emotions.
“Thank you—” I start, the words coming out breathy, gravelly. I clear my throat. “Thank you for coming with me. You like it then?”
“Not that it really matters,” he says with a wide grin, “but yeah, I do. It’s precisely the kind of place I can see you living in. You think Lennox will like it?”
God, my heart does a flip every time he says Lennox’s name.
Every. Damn. Time.
“Lennox has never had a place like this. I’m sure he’ll love it,” I say, but Jamie glances away and I tilt my head to follow his gaze. “What?”
“It’s still weird for me to wrap my head around you being a mum. Things have changed so much.”
He has no idea.
Could I just…
“Jamie,” I say, forcing my voice to stay even. He stops avoiding my gaze, and I exhale when I see his eyes are curious, questioning. “Lennox… well, he—”
Jenny resurfaces with a smile and cuts me off. “Do you have that paperwork done, dear?”
Thank god for this woman, because what did I almost just do? It’s getting harder and harder not to tell him, but this isnotthe time or the place.
This is something that will not only change Jamie’s entire life, but mine and Lennox’s as well. And it will forever change the way Jamie looks at me. I don’t want that to be my first memory of this kitchen, of this house.
“Oh, no, sorry. Was too taken with the space. Let me finish that up for you.”
I grab the stack and furiously riffle through it, signing on the last page.
Lennox and I have a home on Skye, so the last thing keeping me from having him come visit is gone.
Well, the second to last thing. What’s left is telling Jamie who Lennox really is.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jamie – Now
The energy between Avi and me has been oddly charged since we visited the cottage at the beginning of the week. That was the second time I got the sense she wanted to tell me something but couldn’t get the words out. There’s so much wecouldsay about our last summer together, but I haven’t wanted to open old wounds for either of us. Maybe that’s all it is for her as well—warring desires to talk about it while also wanting to forget.
A light breeze ruffles through my hair and the chains on the garden swing screech like a bird call as it moves. I needed a break from the noise of the pub—where I’d been all morning, mingling with guests and chatting with old acquaintances—and escaped to this place that’s always brought me peace. The smell of wild heather fills my nostrils, laced with the scent of mossy rocks and damp earth to create an aroma that is wholly Skye.
It’s Scotland.
