It’s not like it’s a real date, after all. It’s not like he cares that it’s not exactly romantic having McTavish sitting between us, like some kind of old-fashioned chaperone. And anyway, I guess it could be worse. At least Emerald and Jack aren’t here.
“Lexie?”
I look up from the fingernail I’ve been nibbling to see Emerald and Jack standing there, almost as if I’ve somehow managed to conjure them up just by thinking about them.
And now my hell is complete.
“Oh! Umm, hi!”
I sit there blinking up at them both, not knowing what to say.
“Good thanks, how are you?” stutters Emerald, who can always be relied upon to make an already awkward situation even worse. Her long red hair is slightly tangled, as usual, and her pale skin is bright red with embarrassment. Even so, she’s still a solid 9, at least, as well as being so much taller than me that she instantly makes me feel like I’m at a disadvantage; which I suppose I am, really, given that I’m standing in her boyfriend’s restaurant, and I have very good reason to believe I’m not welcome here.
Instead of instantly having me thrown out, though, Jack simply slips his hand into Emerald’s and gives it a quick squeeze, as if to reassure her. His handsome face is set in a frown, but, then again, that’s pretty typical for him too, so I try my best not to read too much into it.
“We saw your name on the booking,” Jack says, when Emerald fails to follow up her awkward opening gambit with any further attempts at conversation. “We were…. surprised.”
I bet they were. The last time they saw me, Emerald was exposing Mum as the person who’d tried to ruin Jack’s business, and simultaneously realizing it was my fault she’d inadvertently burned down the town hall as a teenager. It was… well; it was quite a night for her, really.
“Umm, yeah, that was me,” I reply unnecessarily. “I hope it’s okay—”
I trail off uncomfortably, looking at Emerald, who stares back at me, looking like she’s just seconds away from turning and running out of the room. Which she possibly is, knowing her.
I hope it’s okay that I’m standing here in your boyfriend’s distillery after my mother tried to sabotage it, is what I want to say.I hope it’s okay that I came back here after you found out I’m the reason you had to leave all those years ago. I hope you can forgive me for that, even though I know I don’t deserve it.
I don’t actuallysayany of that, of course. I’m too much of a coward. I justthinkit. And plan to excuse myself as soon as I possibly can, and make a run for it while everyone thinks I’m in the bathroom or something.
“Hey, Jack Buchanan, right?” Jett interrupts, standing up and coming to my rescue. “I saw your photo in an article I read about this place,” he goes on, coming round the table and offering Jack his hand. “Jett Carter. Really pleased to meet you. This place is amazing.”
Jack shakes Jett’s hand, looking slightly shell-shocked. Emerald looks like she’s about to cry, although I’m not totally sure whether that’s because of me or Jett, who does tend to have that effect on women, I’ve noticed. McTavish, meanwhile, has cheerfully worked his way through the contents of the bread basket on the table, and is looking around for someone to replace it for him.
Of all the ways I’d imagined my return to Heather Bay going down, this is not it.
“Would you like to join us?” Jett’s asking them now, just in case this whole situation wasn’t weird enough already. “I’d love to hear about the whisky you make here. I’ve heard it’s quite something.”
“Oh, it is, it is,” Jack replies, recovering himself. “It has quite an interesting back story, too, actually—”
And, just like that, I find myself sitting next to Emerald Taylor, having dinner with her, Jack, McTavish and Jett Carter.
And here was I thinking things just couldn’tgetany weirder right now.
“How’s your mum?” Emerald asks quietly, once we’ve all ordered our starters, and Jack’s had a bottle of wine, plus one of his latest whiskys, sent to the table. “I saw the photos of the two of you online.”
“Oh, right. The Gazette.”
“Naw, Shona’s started an Instagram,” says McTavish, who’s opted out of the conversation Jett and Jack are having about whisky in order to eavesdrop on me and Emerald instead. “And a TikTok. She gets everywhere, so she does. She’s got 133 followers, although at least six o’ them are Old Jimmy, we think. He couldnae figure out how it all worked, so he ended up wi’ multiple accounts. It’s good for Shona’s ‘engagement’, though, apparently.”
“What’s he saying?” Jett interrupts, turning to me. “I don’t understand what he’s saying. Is he speaking Gaelic? Is that what this is?”
“I was just saying,” McTavish shouts, having overheard this, “That Old Jimmy has six Instagram accounts. Although one o’ them’s Edna’s, tae be fair.”
Mctavish is going for the “loud and slow” method of speaking to foreigners, which basically means he’s treating Jett like he’s hard of hearing, rather than just American.
Well, would you look at that? Thingsdidmanage to get weirder, after all.
“And will Edna be joining us, too?” Jett asks politely. I’m guessing ‘Edna’ was the only word he actually understood in all that.
“Och, dinnae be daft, ye great galoot,” chortles McTavish. “Edna’s a vegetarian. This is a seafood restaurant.”
