I swallow, my throat a little tight. “No,” I say. “I—maybe I should tell him.” I didn’t think about it before. I didn’t think he would care, but now…I think Jacob’s right. I think he would. “I wonder if…Maybe I’ll interview him. About the trip, and the wedding, and everything. I was going to try to find some sample contestants and film them, but my boss wants this pitch quickly, and…do you think he’d be open to do that?”
Jacob’s eyes are warm behind his glasses. “I think you should ask him.”
“All right,” I say. “I will.”
—
Two hours later, we’re nearing Aberdeen, and we’ve mostly been quiet. I’m working through the show concept in my mind, and Jacob’s on his phone, tapping something out. I asked once if he was texting Maggie or my dad, but he said it was just “work stuff,” and we left it at that.
I’ve decided to ask Maggieandmy father if they’d let me interview them. I don’t have any real film equipment here, but we can use my phone, put something together just to give Natalie a sense of the idea. My father and Maggie will be back from Skye in a week, and the personal touch might be exactly what this pitch needs.
The idea makes me a little nervous, though. My father and I never cleared the air after that moment in the car. We danced around it, neither of us moving to address it, and I wanted it that way. Before. I imagined flying back and returning to the way we were—distant, separate, apart. That seemed safe. Familiar. But now?
My eyes flit to Jacob, his head bent over his phone, his forehead scrunched in concentration. His thumbs fly across the screen, and then he pauses. A long sigh. He deletes something, then starts typing again.
Endearing.Everything about him is.
I don’t know what the distance will do to us, but maybe we can try.
And maybe my father and I can try harder too.
A few minutes later, Jacob sets his phone down. He looks out the window, his expression soft. Thoughtful.
“Done?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says. He glances over at me. “Sorry, it’s been so quiet in here. You must have been bored.” He plays with the radio, scanning stations, stopping to hear a snippet of a song, then changing it again.
“No. It was helpful, actually. Having all this time just to think.” I raise a shoulder. “I’ve never minded it. Long car rides. Or travel in general. And it’s a luxury to get to do it like this, without thirty contestants in tow.”
Light bagpiping fills the car, a cover of a Sabrina Carpenter song, and he leaves it on, his eyes playful.
“Do you know this one?” he asks.
I laugh. “Do you?”
He grins, slow and easy. “I’ve heard my students play it. I don’t know the words, but I recognize it.”
I wonder what he’s like in class. What his students think about him. I’m sure some find him swoony. With his glasses and his cardigans and the furrow between his brows when he concentrates.
“Do your students know about the bagpiping?”
“You know”—he rubs a hand across his jaw—“I don’t know. Maybe? The school has a student band. They perform at graduation and some other events throughout the year, and I think there’s an alumni chapter too, but there’s not really anything like that for faculty, so…no. I don’t think they know.”
“You should tell them,” I say. “They’d love it.”
He laughs, low and rough. “I’m sure it would be interesting in the States, but it’s not as much of a novelty here. And I hate to tell you this, but I’m not particularly good.”
“Please.” I roll my eyes.
“No, really. I’m passable, but I don’t practice much anymore. I only play occasionally.” He pauses. “I’ve played more this past week than I have in years.”
“Well, you sounded great to me.”
He flushes, looking embarrassed but pleased. “Thanks,” he says.
We pass the city limits, entering Aberdeen, and decide to stop at my hotel first. The front desk has been holding the suitcase I left behind, so we run inside and grab it, then continue on to Jacob’s apartment.
“Flat,” he says, correcting me.
