Because that mouth belongs to Jameson Murray,my Jamie, but the voice is wrong—too grown-up, his accent less pronounced from his years overseas.
My brain fights to understand. What is he doing here?
I snap my mouth shut, but it’s the only movement my body is capable of making as I stand and stare.
His rich auburn hair is styled to perfection—as opposed to the tousled red mess I remember from our youth—and he has a beard. A beard? The Jamie I knew would never. But I don’t know this man. I don’t know him at all.
His green eyes are round behind wire-rimmed glasses, mouth pulled taut in a firm line, and the paper in his hand is crumpled beyond usability.
“What are you doing here?” we say at the same time, and I almost laugh, but the lump rising in my throat stops it. I pull my lips between my teeth and wait for him to say something, blinking too rapidly, afraid that if I look away, he’ll vanish like a mirage.
He doesn’t, and I start to fidget on my feet. The uncomfortable silence stretches between us and I’m suddenly very aware of how cramped this reception area is.
And that’s when Aileen walks in.
“Oh good. You’re here. You remember Jameson, of course.” She nods, as if this is the most normal situation on the planet. As if my world didn’t just flip on its axis. “Avonlea, dear, where are your bags?”
I look at Aileen, then back to Jamie, then back to her. I attempt to clear my throat, but it gets stuck, a cracking sound of discomfort the only thing that escapes.
“Bags?” Jamie says, and I flinch at the roughness of his tone.
“Yes, bags, Jameson. Will you help Avonlea bring them in?”
I shake my head and words spill from me without the slightest ability to filter them. “No. No! I can get them. In fact, maybe I should stay someplace else. I’ll just go.”
Aileen reaches for my arm just as Angus lumbers around the corner, leaning heavily on a cane.
“Nonsense, lass. Get over here and give this old man a hug,” Angus says, and tears spring unbidden from my eyes. He looks frailerthan I’ve ever seen him—thinner, tired, a larger-than-life man made small by illness and age—and my heart breaks.
I wrap my arms around him, but it’s not until I catch Jamie’s gaze on us that the tears spill over. Of course he’d come home now, for Angus—just like I did—and dammit if I don’t wish I could be glad he did. But I can’t. Because this just made everything about my being here all the more complicated.
I can only hope he won’t be staying long. He has a whole life in the States. One I’ve only glimpsed through the lens of the internet—not that I’d ever tell him that. Maybe I can just avoid him while he’s here. He’ll be gone before… well, he’ll be gone before this has to get complicated.
I bury my face in Angus’s shoulder and breathe him in. He smells the same, like spicy aftershave and herbs from the kitchen. He pats my back before gently pushing me away to look me in the eye.
“Those tears best not be for me, lass. Goodness, I ain’t dead yet.”
I suck in a breath, but he chuckles good-naturedly. I guess he’s at the joke-making stage of his diagnosis. I am not, and the shattered look of heartache on Jamie’s face tells me he isn’t either.
“Jameson,” Angus says over his shoulder, pulling me into his side to face his grandson. I avert my gaze. “Would you check Avonlea into room four. She’ll have it indefinitely until she finds herself a place in town.” He looks down at me with a nod.
That is what we discussed, but it feels impossible that I could stay at the inn now that Jamie’s staying here.
If that isn’t incentive enough to find my own place ASAP, I don’t know what is.
Jamie nods, lips tight and eyes narrowed, then looks down at the computer.
“So, where are those bags?” Angus asks.
“In my car. I don’t have much with me right now. I’ll bring up the rest of our stuff once I find us a place.” I notice how Jamie’s shoulders stiffen but try to ignore it. “Thank you for letting me stay here until I do.”
“That’s what family does.” Angus presses a kiss to my cheek and lets me go. “Once you get settled in your room, come down to the kitchen and I’ll introduce you to the staff. Of course, you might remember a few of them.” He winks at me and slowly walks toward the back of the inn, a slight limp in his step.
Aileen has wandered over to chat with guests in the parlor, leaving just Jamie and me. Alone.
The same tension from before crackles between us. I can’t find words for him right now. I can’t find words for myself… for this situation. So, I turn on my heel and walk out to my car, wondering how on earth I’m supposed to look him in the eye when I return.
The man who was my first love.
