Page 79 of The Highland Fling

“I don’t know that it’d mean quite the same coming from me. Maybe I can just tell him you miss him?”

“Hmm.” David’s brows knit together. “Okay, fine. Hug him and tell him I miss him.”

“Oh. The hug is mandatory, is it?”

“Non-negotiable.”

With a brave smile and a hint of resignation in his voice, Aidan says, “All right. I can do that for you.”

David grins with delight. Mum, meanwhile, shuffles a little closer, and Aidan shifts his focus to her. Something changes in him: his gaze loses some of its brightness, and his shoulders tense. I get it—this is his first time seeing Mum since she learnt about the pregnancy. It must be a pretty nerve-racking encounter for him. God knows I felt awkward when I finally showed her my bump.

“Viola.” Aidan offers her a stiff nod. “How . . . are things going?”

“Fine, thank you. I’m lucky to have my children here with me, keeping me company. Grace didn’t mention you were coming down.”

“Aidan surprised me,” I say. “He brought me flowers.” I pick them up and show them off.

“Hmm.” Mum briefly glances at them then turns her attention back to Aidan. “And where is it you’re staying?”

“I booked into a hotel nearby, just for a night. I was hoping to steal Grace away and take her out for dinner.”

“Well, that’s a bit of a problem, actually, because Grace was going to cook a meal for me and David, so—”

“I’ll make us something, Mum,” David interrupts. To Aidan, he adds, “Yes! Grace will go for dinner with you. And yes! She’ll pack a bag and stay the night too. Mum and I will hang out here and spend some quality mother-and-son time together. You two head off and have fun.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” I ask.

David pulls a quizzical expression, leans close to me, and whispers, “How could you say no to him? He’s in a kilt, Grace. A kilt!”

I glance at Mum. She purses her lips but says nothing. The last few days, she’s been telling me and David to stop fussing over her. I’ve hardly wanted to leave her side because I feel so guilty about avoiding her when I could have been supporting her. But she’s right: she doesn’t need me and David worrying about her twenty-four hours a day. Truthfully, all we can do is offer our company anyway, and she’ll be fine if David is here.

“Okay.” I meet Aidan’s gaze and break into a smile. “Come in out of the cold for a few minutes. I’ll get changed and throw a few things in a bag.”

“It’s not as upmarket as the last restaurant I took you to, but I hope it’s okay,” Aidan says.

We’re at a quirky gastro-pub that isn’t far from his hotel. Exposed brick walls are adorned with retro posters and black-and-white photographs.

“It’s perfect,” I insist.

Another thing that’s perfect is my view. Aidan sits opposite me, and he’s taken off his jacket, revealing a white long-sleeved T-shirt that clings to his torso, showing off his strong frame. Its casual style is a sexy contrast to the kilt.

His outfit attracted a lot of attention on our journey here, and he’s already drawn the stares of several female diners, but he pays them no notice. He only has eyes for me.

He reaches across the table and places his hand on mine. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Thanks for coming down, and for taking me out for dinner.”

His mouth lifting at the corners, he sits back again. “Don’t mention it. I’m happy I get to spend some more time with you. How are you doing anyway? The last few days can’t have been easy.”

“They’ve not. Mum’s doing well, though. Nothing ever fazes her—not even this, it seems. She’s always so strong and sensible and practical. Sometimes I wish she’d just let it all out. It’s cancer, for God’s sake! It’s scary, and everyone needs a cry now and again, but that’s not Mum’s style. When David and I first arrived, I swear she spent more time comforting us than we did her.”

Aidan shifts in his seat, and I wonder if maybe he isn’t sure what to say. That’s okay—it can be a difficult subject to discuss.

“I’m still annoyed she didn’t tell me or David she was going for tests. She shouldn’t have had to go to those alone.”

“Hmm . . .” Aidan tilts his head to the side, and a glimmer of mischief shines in his eyes. “Well, you didn’t tell anyone about your pregnancy until it came out at my birthday lunch. You both kept secrets—maybe you and your mum are more alike than you care to admit?”

“Absolutely not!” I stick my tongue out at him. “If you don’t have anything sensible to say, we should decide what we’re going to eat.”