Page 84 of The Highland Fling

A natural workaholic, she surprised me by arranging a leave of absence from her job. Physically, she’d manage fine, I’m sure, but mentally, she’s been re-evaluating a few aspects of her life since the diagnosis, and I think she’s realised there are more important things than work. She’s currently designing a digital photo album for printing. She’s got thousands of photos saved to the cloud and has always meant to get physical copies of the best ones but never quite got around to it. Now she’s finally doing it.

“We were a bit low on milk,” I admit. “I’ll nip back out after this to pick some up.”

“I can—”

“I’m happy to do it,” I assure her, smiling.

Mum takes a break from the computer, and we chat while enjoying our cakes. I’m savouring my final mouthful when the bell goes.

“Who could that be?” Mum wonders.

“I’ll go see.” I’m sure it must be whatever Aidan has organised, but I don’t say that.

I open the door to a delivery person who’s carrying the most beautiful bouquet of red roses.

“Grace Adefope?” she checks.

“Er, yes. Thanks.”

I accept the flowers and inhale their sweet, intoxicating fragrance. It’s impossible not to be touched by the gesture—what’s more romantic than red roses?—but I know that on Valentine’s Day, they can be eye-wateringly expensive. I’ve been unfair to Aidan by dragging this out when I should have already ended things.

Closing the door, I check the card and see a message has been printed on it: O my luve’s like a red, red rose . . . A. x

I tap the words into my phone—it’s the opening line of an eighteenth-century poem by Robert Burns. Oh dear, he’s sending me poetry now! He was perfectly happy as a single man. Have I ruined him? No, of course not. He’ll get over this. He’ll bounce back.

With a bit of distance from Aidan, I’ve finally been able to see clearly again. We had it right in the first place when we agreed to be platonic friends. Allowing romance to enter our relationship was a mistake.

I don’t know what came over me towards the end of last year. I lost sight of things, I suppose, and got carried away. He’s a very handsome man, and charismatic too—I can’t seem to think straight when I’m around him. I’d begun to dream of another life . . .

Of course, in Bannock, there was also the magic of the snow, the beauty of the Christmas lights, the warmth of the wood-burning stoves, and the friendliness of the close-knit community. I’d got caught up in Emily’s excitement as well, at the idea of us raising our babies there together.

But I was being ridiculous. I’ll be a mother soon, and London is what I’ve always known. This is where I built a career for myself from scratch, and this is where my mum is. My due date is nine and a half weeks away—the countdown is in single digits now. It’d be absurd to give up my stable life here to take a chance with Aidan in a remote Highland town.

“Well? Who was it?” Mum calls through.

“Oh . . .” Shamefaced, I return to the dining table holding the flowers.

She takes them in then tuts and shakes her head. “Have you still not ended things with that boy?”

“I’ll . . . do it tomorrow.”

“I’ve heard that before! Grace, we’ve spoken about this. You can’t risk everything to move up north—not with a baby on the way, and not for a man with Aidan’s reputation. You’re not just making decisions for yourself anymore. You’re making them for her too.”

“I know. You’re right. I really will call him tomorrow.”

“Why not get it over with and do it now?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day! I can’t do it today.”

Her brow furrows. “Fine. But after this, no more excuses.”

I button up my winter coat over the curve of my swelling belly. It’s hard to believe I’ve still got over two months to go. I’m already huge.

Opening the front door, I’m about to step out when I realise I’ve not got any cash on me. Baby brain—again! First, I forgot to pick up the milk, then I almost walked out of the house to fix that without taking money with me. C’mon, Grace!

I close the door and try to think where I left my purse. Normally, I’m good at putting everything back where it belongs, but recently I’ve been leaving items in the oddest places then been forced to hunt all over for them.

I ponder for a few moments, then it comes to me. It’s in a handbag that’s hanging up—not such an odd spot after all. I take out the purse and slip it in the pocket of my coat. As I’m doing so, Mum’s voice reaches me from down the hall.