Anger boiled in my gut and climbed its way up the back of my throat like acid. “I took time off to come to the festival today, but that doesn’t mean I get to slack off on all the work that needs to be done.”
“I understand how jobs work,” she muttered. “But there’s always going to be as much work as youdecideto take on. You’re always chasing something. The next property. The next deal.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I growled.
“What about when our baby is born?” She said the words like a challenge.
I was beginning to feel desperate. Ineededher to understand me. “I’m not going to miss our kid’s life,” I promised. “I’m terrified at failing at that. Youknowthat.”
“But are you going to prioritize being there for the baby, or is work always going to come first?”
“Those two goals are interconnected,” I said, the words ground out between my teeth. Isla massaged her eyes. “By making sure the business is strong and stable, I’m securing our baby’s future. Trust me. Work is the one thing I know how to do right.”
When Isla pulled her hand away, she was crying. “You sound just like my father.”
Part of me yearned to reach out, to comfort her, but the rest of me was filled with an angry fire, and that was stronger. She was so hyper focused on her version of events, she wasn’t even hearing me. Why didn’t she understand that in order to take care of her and the baby, I had to show up for the business? “You’re being irrational.”
The second the word left my mouth, I wanted to claw it back.
Isla looked like I’d slapped her. “And you’re being ridiculous thinking that I’m going to be okay with you blowing in and out of town—in and out of our child’s life—like some errant breeze. You forget I’ve already lived through that once,” she said. “I told you how my parents’ relationship broke down when Dad went all in on the business. I explained how hard that divorce was on me. How I struggled with the idea that he was never going to put me first. Is that the way you want our child to feel?”
“That’s not fair,” I snapped.
“It is!” Isla said, her voice rising. “Because I know how this goes. You’ll pull away until all this baby gets are phone calls and cards on their birthday.Ifthey’re lucky.”
“I’m not Dougal,” I seethed. “And you don’t have any right to take it out on me because you’re upset with him.” I jammed my finger into the table. “I’m here. I showed up. And I’m not the one pulling away,youare.”
“You’re right,” she bit out. “I am pulling away. Because I can’t bear to watch our child live through another version of my childhood, dealing with two parents who are always fighting about why Daddy is never around.”
I resisted the urge to tug at my hair. “I shouldn’t have to defend myself like this just to provide for my family!”
“And I shouldn’t have to fight this hard to get you to choose your family!” Isla shot back.
“You’re blowing things out of proportion.”
“No,” she said, cheeks red, eyebrows pinched tight. “Everything’s pretty clear from where I’m standing. And I’m done trying to justify and make excuses for you.”
“If that’s how you feel,” I said, throwing my arms out in the face of her dagger-like glare, “then what are we doing?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Not anymore.” She stalked right past me. “Whatever we were, it’s done.”
24
LOCKE
Iwasted no time grabbing my things and getting the hell out of the Deerhound. I got halfway to my vehicle, with my pulse pounding in my ears, when my phone pinged. For a moment, my hope surged. Surely, it was Isla, asking me to come back. Apologizing for having had a go at me after I’d spent the entire day just trying to get to Braeburn, trying to get toher. I’d go back in, we’d sort things out, and I’d take her to bed, holding her in my arms the way I’d been aching to for hours.
But no, it was Weston, inviting me around for dinner at Lochbrae. Actually, he invited both Isla and me. For a second, I thought about going—leaning on my friend and letting him commiserate with me. But I couldn’t stomach the thought of turning up there alone, having to face the lot of them with Isla’s words burning in the back of my mind.
I shouldn’t have to fight this hard to get you to choose your family!
“Bah!” I growled, shooting off a quick reply turning down the invite. Then I threw myself in my car and sped back toEdinburgh, sneering at the light traffic that didn’t present the slightest obstacle to menow, when clear roads couldn’t do me one bit of good.
I didn’t bother turning on the lights when I got to my flat, storming across my living room and into the kitchen in the semi-darkness before wrenching open my fridge. For the first time in hours, I realized how hungry I was—I’d never actually gotten around to eating that sandwich Isla had made. The adrenaline of our fight had masked the hunger for a while, but now my stomach was trying to swallow the rest of my organs.
I pulled out a container of leftover Chinese, gave it a sniff—it didn’t smell great, but it didn’t seem to have taken on sentient life yet, so I figured it was safe enough. I ate it cold, not even tasting the food. I was too frustrated to worry about the flavor anyway. I didn’t even realize I’d finished it until my fork scraped across the bottom of the empty container.
I huffed a sharp breath, crushing the paper box in my hand as I let my aggravation bubble and stew. Where did she get off, telling me my priorities were out of whack? Yes, work frequently came first for me. But that didn’t mean she and the baby were at the bottom of the list. The fact that she’d even insinuated that—that she’d compared me to her father—was insulting! As if I hadn’t been bending over backward to make sure she had everything she needed since the moment I found out about the baby.
