Page 65 of The Bookshop By the Loch

Sweeps of anxiety kept crossing his handsome features.

“Anyway,” I started, hoping to push some light relief into the situation. “I’m here for you. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Outside, the bank holiday traffic was beginning to build, breaking up the view across the road to the loch.

Tobias remained standing on the bookshop floor, a confused look on his face.

“Well,” I forced, wondering what on earth was going on. “You know I’m here if you do decide you want to talk.”

I started off towards the counter to retrieve the two books I’d put down there, when Tobias’s voice made me stop. “Lexie.”

He moved towards me, his shoulders hunching over.

I stared up at him. “Yes? Talk to me. What’s going on?”

He gave his stubbled chin an anxious rub. “I’m not too sure where to start.” He let out a sigh. “You were right, as it turns out.”

“Sorry. I don’t understand. Right about what?”

Tobias propped himself against the counter. His jaw throbbed as he considered what to say. “I should’ve realised something was up, that it seemed strange at the time. You thought it was.”

“What?” What was he talking about?

Tobias sighed. “That it was a surprise when my uncle decided to help me try to secure premises for my new gallery.”

I eyed him. “Tobias, you aren’t making any sense.”

“Sorry. I know I’m talking in riddles. It’s come as a huge shock, that’s all.”

I found myself reaching out a concerned hand and placing it on his. His lashes flickered as they studied my hand. I realised what I’d done and snatched it away again. Good grief! Why the hell did I do that? I cleared my throat, my hand still feeling the warm imprint of his. “What’s come as a shock? Tobias?”

He pushed a chunk of his curls back behind one ear. “Would you believe that I’ve just found out my late father isn’t my real father after all?”

I blinked up at him in shock. “What?” This confession made me search around inside my head for something more prophetic to say, but I wasn’t sure what. Instead, I waited for Tobias to elaborate, but he didn’t.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Confused, I let out a long, low breath. “I’m sorry.” I hesitated. “So, how did you find out? I don’t understand.”

He let out a gravelly croak of dark laughter. “No, I don’t know that I understand it yet either.”

He held me to the spot with his wounded gaze.

My heart lurched for him. “Tobias? What is it? Just tell me.”

He shook his head, as though he were struggling to comprehend what he was about to say.

Tobias fought to keep his deep voice calm. He flashed me a look. “His name is Cormac, apparently. My real father, that is.” He pushed a troubled hand through his hair. “But I don’t know anything else about him. And I don’t know if I want to.”

A couple of passing locals and a few tourists drew up in front of the window.

I took one look at his mixed-up expression. “Tobias. Are you sure about all of this?”

He gave the briefest nod of his head.

“Jesus. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”