Page 103 of The Grump I Got Stuck With

It was Alistair in the flesh. I was startled for a beat. How could he be here when he was just in London at the TV studio five minutes ago? Common sense kicked in a beat later as I realized he’d probably recorded the interview days earlier to allow it to be edited and approved—and publicized—before it aired. He’d have known it would be broadcast now, but how had he known where to find me?

A glance over at a sheepish-looking Isla answered that question. So this was a setup. A more elaborate one than the changes to my Voyages app, but judging from the way he was looking at me, it had the same goal—to convince me to take him back.

I stared at him, conflicted, even as the entirety of the pub seemed to surge forward to speak to him. As moved as I’d been by the interview, I still wasn’t sure whether I was ready to talk to him. As he made his way across the pub toward me, I suddenly couldn’t breathe.

I needed to get out of here.

To think.

To do something other than look at his damn woeful eyes.

I turned to Isla. “I have to go.”

“Don’t you want to at least hear him out?”

Eventually, yes. But right now? No. Luckily, someone grabbed him by the hand to congratulate him, stopping him from closing the gap between us. “Good for you, lad. The whole town has your back.”

I used the distraction to slip past the crowd, disappearing through the doors before I burst into tears.

After hiding out in Cat’s café, I dragged myself back to the Deerhound two hours later. Playing with the cats had been therapeutic, and I was a whole lot calmer than I’d been, though my feelings toward Alistair were still a tangle I wasn’t quite ready to unknot.

Isla was waiting for me in the lobby, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry I tricked you into watching the interview,” she said. “Alistair asked for my help and,” she lifted her shoulder, “I suppose I’m a sucker for a second chance.”

I nodded, not quite sure what to say.

“He left this for you,” she said, handing me a note.

I opened it, staring down at his loopy scrawl. It was an address right here in town, but it wasn’t one I recognized.

“He wants you to meet him,” Isla said. “You don’t have to, of course, but if you don’t mind me offering some advice, I’d say that you don’t want to spend the rest of your life regretting something. You can always walk away if you don’t like what he has to say. But you rob yourself of the choice if you don’t go hear him out at all.”

She was right.

I took the note and walked back outside, typing the address into Voyages. It pointed me down the street, and after a minute, I realized it was leading me to the shop that had been under a hush-hush renovation for the past week. There’d been giant boards blocking the view of the interior from the street and tons of workers coming and going around the clock.

There were no workers now, however, and the scaffolding had disappeared. In its place hung a gorgeous wooden sign that read Madison’s Magic.

What the hell?

I pushed on the door, finding it unlocked. I stepped inside the shop, my eyes going wide as I took in the glittery wall of beads neatly sorted into compartments and the glass display cases. Off to one side was a collection of pint-sized furniture with a sign that said Kids Corner.

On the other side of the shop was an adult version. That sign read Beads & Bubbly, and below it was a flyer advertising a weekly wine-drinking and jewelry-making night. I carried on toward the back of the shop, looking in at the display cases. They were filled with some of the jewelry I’d made with Kenna.

A laugh bubbled free.

Next to the counter was a giant barrel filled with shiny bits of colored glass. I ran my hand through it. “What even is all⁠—”

“Sea glass,” Alistair said, stepping out of a back room.

My breath caught, my eyebrow arching. “Eavesdropping again?”

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I seem to have a knack for it.”

I tucked my arms across my chest, feeling the need to protect myself. “What is all this?”

“It’s a beading and jewelry store all mixed into one,” he explained. “And the sea glass…I thought using it in your jewelry could be a way for you to feel close to your mother’s legacy. I saw the jewelry you and Kenna made after her trip to the coast, and it gave me the idea. All the glass in this barrel was collected from beaches around Scotland. You can use it to make your own kind of art—art you’re already amazing at—without having to blow the glass yourself.”

I swallowed hard as he gestured around the shop.