“Hell no. She had it coming.”
It’s an effort to keep my hands gentle as I adjust Nick’s pillows. I really want to throw something. “She crossed a line, Nick.”
“She did. Several, in fact. Let’s hope she got the message. Although I wouldn’t count on it. In the meantime, why don’t you hop up here with me?” He somehow manages to shuffle over on the bed a little, making room for me, so I climb up and nestle against him, careful not to touch the enormous bruise on his chest, which covers two cracked ribs, courtesy of Mr Gordon’s cow.
“That’s better. So, what I don’t get is how my mother got here so fast.”
“The hospital called her as next of kin.” Unfortunately.
“And she decided to get straight on her broomstick and fly right over. It still doesn’t make any sense. By the way, do you have my phone? I should probably call Claire. She’ll be worried.”
“Oh, yes.” I lean over and grab my bag from the chair. “It smashed as you fell. Or maybe a cow trod on it.” I can’t help but laugh as I hand over the mangled device. I can laugh about it now that I know Nick is safe. “But I have my old phone. You can pop the sim card in that.”
Once the sim has been transferred, Nick goes to call his sister but is distracted by a voicemail.
“Well, that explains it. Evidently, Mum somehow got wind of the fact I’d flown to Scotland and decided to follow me to put a stop to anyridiculousness. She was already in Glasgow when the hospital called her. Claire tried to warn me, but the broken phone got in the way. Mystery solved.”
“She seems very desperate for you to marry Eleanor.” I don’t need Mary to like me, but it hurts to see how much pain she’s inflicting on her son.
“She is. So, I need to tell you what actually happened at the partners’ dinner.”
I settle against his chest and listen as he recounts all the dreadful things his mother and Eleanor have done, and about his parents’ plan for him to be a politician.
“Do you believe me?” he asks, a little sheepishly, as though he had any control over what those harpies did.
“Yes, I do. But are you sure you don’t want to be a politician? I could totally see myself as the First Lady.” I give him a wicked grin.
He laughs and then winces, hand going to his chest.
“Oh, your ribs.”
“I’m okay. And to answer your question, I’m very sure. I have no intention of standing for a seat now or in the future. So are we good?” I’ve never seen Nick look quite so unsure.
“Yes. We’re good. And I’m sorry for how all this happened. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain. I’m especially sorry for not telling you about the baby earlier.” I don’t know how I will let go of the guilt of that decision.
“Lu, I understand. You were scared. But I need you to promise me. No more running away when things get tricky. Talk to me. There’s nothing we can’t work out.”
“I will. I had a long talk with Da about him and my mum, and it helped me to see things differently. I’m not scared now. I’m ready. To trust you. And more importantly, to trust myself.”
“So, you’re all in?”
“I’m all in. Whatever life brings.”
His fingers slide around my jaw and into the hair at the nape of my neck, sending the shiver which was once so unwelcome and is now such a joy over my body. Gently he pulls me forward, and suddenly, we’re not in a hospital, we’re not anywhere, except in each other’s arms. His lips are soft and a little tentative until I melt against him, my lips opening to him. It’s the kind of kiss that fades to black at the end of a movie, all warmth and love and beauty. And I know for sure we’ll be okay.
Loud throat clearing alerts us to the arrival of Da, who has appeared in the doorway, looking tired and smelling vaguely of sheep.
“Lulu, hen, the nurses said there was astramashearlier. Are ye alright?” He takes in my position in Nick’s arms.
“Better than alright, Dad. At last.” I can’t keep the smile off my face.
“So, you’ve worked it all out, then?”
We don’t even have time to answer before Mary stalks back into the room, apparently having evaded the nurses.
“Here we go again,” Nick whispers into my hair. The face he turns to her is not one I would want aimed at me. “Are you here to apologise, Mum?”
Mary takes in the sight of me on the bed before giving Dad the once over. The look she shoots him is pure poison. Until she does a double-take. She’s recognised him, despite the smell of sheep dung and hay.
