Page 83 of The Highland Fling

“It is. Mum’s news came as a shock, and it’s made me realise she and I aren’t as close as I’d like. I want to focus on that relationship for now.”

Aidan swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Of course.”

His expression suggests this is the last thing he wants, but I’m grateful he’s not making this more difficult than it has to be.

“Thanks. I’ll be back in touch in a bit, okay?” I give him an awkward hug. “Oh, and let me be the one to decide when to reach out again. I might need a week or two. I really do appreciate your surprise visit, but I’d rather this were on my terms.”

Another nod. “Understood.”

“All right, well . . .” I make for the door.

“Wait!”

Swallowing a sigh, I turn back. Aidan steps towards me. His gaze is pleading, his posture desperate.

“I know you’re going through a hard time, but I can support you through this. Isn’t that what partners do? Grace, you’ve made me feel things I’ve never felt before, and . . . crap, I don’t have the right words, but maybe this expresses it better than I can.” Tentatively he takes my hand and says:

I once was lost, but now am found,

Was blind, but now I see.

“You’re my Amazing Grace. I don’t want to lose you.”

Despite how this morning has gone, my heart skips a beat. The lyrics are apt—Aidan has changed since he met me—but the words also remind me of Mum, who named me Grace after hearing that song. She deserves my full attention at the moment.

I smile weakly. “Remember, I’m just asking to put things on hold.”

His shoulders sag, disappointment weighing him down. “Aye. I’ll wait to hear from you, then.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

GRACE

I open the box containing the pair of miniature red velvet cakes I picked up earlier. Each of the bright-crimson sponges is topped with white fluffy frosting, chocolate shavings, and an edible glitter heart. Today being Valentine’s Day, they were naturally targeted at loved-up couples, but I decided they’d be a nice mid-morning treat for me and Mum.

I pop them on plates then grab two mugs, put in teabags—a decaf for me—and fill them with boiling water. My hot-drink consumption has definitely gone up these last seven weeks, but I enjoy the ritual of sitting down for a tea with my mum.

Opening the fridge, I take out the milk, and—oh, crap! Baby brain. I’d intended to pick up more when I was out, but I completely forgot, and only a dribble remains. I split it between the two mugs, but there’s not enough to turn our drinks the caramel colour Mum and I like. Well, we’ll just have to make do.

On the work surface, my phone buzzes. It’s probably Aidan. Even though we agreed I’d be the one to decide when to resume contact, he’s been messaging me a lot lately. To be fair, at the start of the year, I said I might need a week or two, and . . . we’re now halfway through February. I’ve left him waiting considerably longer than he was expecting.

I have sent him the odd message back, assuring him both the baby and I are okay, but I’ve kept them short and to the point. I know it’s selfish and a little cowardly, but I’d hoped he might get the hint. That would have made what I need to do so much easier. Unfortunately, he’s refusing to give up on me.

I pick up the phone. He’s shared a cartoon depiction of the Loch Ness Monster with a tartan tam-o’-shanter perched on its head. Below, he’s typed: Happy Valentine’s Day, Grace. You un-loched my heart. x

It’s a truly terrible pun, and yet not only do I let out a small giggle, a pang shoots through my chest. I still have feelings for Aidan, which is what’s making this so difficult. I should have called him days ago, had an honest talk with him, and set him right. But . . . I didn’t. I can’t do it today anyway—not on the annual celebration of love. That’d be too cruel. But I also can’t put it off forever.

He sends over another message: Delivery on its way. You’re at your maw’s, aye?

I groan, guilt gnawing at me. This is awful. I reply with a thumbs-up then pocket my phone.

In the month and a half since I last saw Aidan, a few things have changed. For a start, after staying with Mum on a temporary basis for a few weeks, I’ve now officially moved back in with her. The tiny flat is no longer my home. The son of a yoga client was looking for a place, and I was able to negotiate with the landlord to take him on as a replacement tenant and let me leave early.

It’s not that Mum needs me around the house—she’s getting on fine—but it just makes sense. There’s space here, and Mum is delighted at the prospect of living with her granddaughter. Besides, after going through the initial testing process by herself, I want to support Mum through her treatments and checkups, especially as David has returned to Bannock. The great news is we now know it’s been caught early, and the prognosis is very good. I sat in on a recent appointment with a doctor, and it was very encouraging.

I put the mugs and plates on a tray then take it through to the dining table. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mum!”

She glances up from her laptop and laughs at the heart-topped cakes. “Oh, lovely! Those look delicious.”