CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Jamie – Now
It wasn’t five minutes after I watched Avi walk away with Lennox yesterday before my grandparents were in the cottage with me. But everything from my conversation with her was still too raw, so I asked for space from them as well—wanting the opportunity to sift through some of this on my own.
I don’t know how to feel about them knowing this whole time—for the last year at least. At some point we’ll have that conversation, but yesterday wasn’t the day for it… I don’t know if today is that day either.
I still need to call my parents. We’ve talked at least once a week since I got here—mostly to give Dad updates about how Grandad is doing. I can’t even begin to imagine how they’ll react to the news that I’m a father, that they have a grandson who’s ten years old.
How can I have a ten-year-old son?
Did Avi tell him last night? What does he think of all this?
My stomach grumbles violently. I haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday, and considering it made its reappearance not long after, I’m starving. Even the shortbread Avi made wasn’t able to tempt me into eating, and I skipped dinner too—not wanting to sit and make small talk with my grandparents but not ready to talk about the important stuff either.
The dining room is quiet when I reach it, with only a few people still sipping their tea or picking at their meals. I’m tempted to sit and order a full Scottish breakfast thanks to the scents of bacon and sausage lingering in the air, but a bowl of porridge is probably a safer option.
I rarely sit in the dining room for meals except dinner, ordering instead with the kitchen staff and taking my meals wherever I want… But chances are Avi is in the kitchen and I’m feeling a bit like a chickenshit at the moment. Unsure if I’m ready to face her.
There’s a small window in the door, so I peek through and do my best to get a good look around. An instant sense of relief overtakes me when I don’t see her. Popping my head inside, I find Grandad sitting at his desk, bent over a ledger of some kind.
“Mornin’,” I say, and he glances up, a cautious smile forming around his lips, eyes crinkling slightly beneath his readers.
“Mornin’, Jameson.” He hefts himself out of his chair to give me a hug and I sink into it, wrapping my arms around him the same way he does with me.
All might not be forgotten, but forgiven? I think I can do that, even if I still don’t understand.
“Can we get you something to eat?” he asks, pulling back and looking me up and down.
“Porridge would be great,” I say, looking over my shoulder at Hamish, who gives me a nod. “Is Avi… Is she here?”
“She’s on her way. Has a few things to check in on this morning and then she’ll be taking Lennox back down to Glasgow.”
“I thought her parents were coming to get him?” I wonder aloud.
My brain conjures every negative scenario in an instant. Her deciding to go back to Glasgow for good. Lennox being angry about me—being angryatme. Lennox being angry with Avi.
“They were, aye. Plans changed,” he says, giving nothing else away.
Everything changed yesterday.
A moment later, a steaming bowl of porridge slides across the desk and I tuck into it with abandon. God, I was hungry. I’ll have to ask Gran if she saved the shortbread from yesterday, because now that I don’t feel so unsettled, I really want some.
“I think I’m going to take my computer into the garden to work for a bit,” I say once I’ve finished my breakfast. What I don’t say is that I want to get out of the kitchen so I’m not sitting here when Avi walks in. I made things awkward enough amongst the staff when I burst in here yesterday.
And I don’t know what to do when I see her. I’m not sure I’m ready to continue our conversation. I don’t have any idea what to think about any of this.
“Sounds like a fine idea. Soak up the sunshine out there before it inevitably rains again.” Grandad nods toward the window where dust particles play in the bright rays shining through.
I sling my messenger bag over my shoulder and head out of the kitchen. The warmth of the sun outside hits me and I turn my face up to greet it, eyes closed, and just breathe. Heather and the damp, earthy smells from the loch waft my way on the breeze, ruffling my hair lightly.
When I open my eyes, it’s to find I’m not alone in the garden.
Nox sits on the tire swing in a pair of jeans tucked into wellies and a wrinkled T-shirt. His rain jacket lies discarded on the bench swing with a book wrapped inside it.
He watches me from his perch, assessing me.
“Hi,” I say in a reserved tone. I’m not entirely sure what the protocol is for talking to my son for the first time. We’ve talked plenty in the past several days, but this is different and we both know it.
