‘Yes.’
‘What you did was so reckless. I find myself so angry at you a lot of the time. That you could put the hotel at risk like that. I mean, just thinking about it now, I feel angry. I don’t think that anger will go away quickly.’
I don’t speak. I don’t say sorry again. I’ve worn the word out so much it feels threadbare on my lips.
‘But I do kind of get it, on another level …’ James continues, looking over at me, and I can’t meet his eyes. ‘Like I can see how it spiralled out of control. Heather has battled hard in your corner.’
My heart lurches for my friend once more.
‘James, I loved spending time with you. I didn’t want to be fake with you. That’s why I kept saying it couldn’t go anywhere … and then it did –go somewhere– and I kind of panicked. The more I liked you, the worse it felt.’
He nods. He doesn’t look angry, or hurt. Just like he’s processing information that he already knew.
‘But, James, in case of any doubt: I really like you.’
His eyes flicker up to me and he studies my face.
‘Do you think you could forgive me? I think you felt …’
‘I’m working on it,’ he says, before looking me in the eyes again, this time with a hint of the James from before. ‘I definitely want to.’
‘You want to?’ I say, my breath catching in my throat.
‘Yes.’ He must sense my distress because he leans across the table and puts his hand on mine. The warm weight of it fills me with hope. I am fighting back tears when he says gently, ‘I do. I just need time.’ He sits back, takes a big gulp of his beer and looks pensively at the pizza and then up at me. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘Well, I’ll go back to Loch Dorn and face the music.’
‘And then?’
‘And then, what?’
‘What will you do?’
‘I was hoping …’ I trail off.I was hoping they might ask me to stay.
‘If you want to, they need some help in the bar. Especially with Bill out of action now. He won’t ever work the bar again, I don’t think. Could you do that?’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really. But could that sustain you?’ he says.
‘What?’
‘Working at Loch Dorn?’
My heart lurches at the idea of it. ‘Of course it could, James. What do you mean?’
‘Well, you want a passion. Could that be it, or would you be off again in a year?’
I think of the cottage, the loch, Portree, the river, the craggy mountain range on Skye. I think of James’s little house with the large window out onto the water, and watching the gulls dive into the sea. I think of Anis and Brett and Irene. I think of Roxy. And I also picture Heather.
‘Yes. It would.’
‘Well, Elizabeth Finch,’ he says looking at me, then at the cheesy salami-thin crust in the brown cardboard box and back to me, ‘there won’t be any pizza.’
‘I can live with that.’
42.
