“How it would turn out?”
“Yes. You pushing Struan away before you even gave him a proper chance. That’s the last thing I wanted.” She reaches out and squeezes my arm. “If Helen and I couldn’t stop blabbing, it’s only because we were both so excited. Helen was over the moon at the thought of you and her son together. And me? Well, I was too. After what happened with Danny...” She pauses, lines deepening around her mouth. “I’d never seen you so small, Ainsley. I hated seeing you like that. I thought that maybe, just maybe, Struan might help you put all that behind you. Besides”—her voice lifts—“that lad is quite the catch.”
“Mum!” I gape at her. “Listen to you. You’restillinterfering. You just can’t help yourself!”
“What? I’m only pointing out the truth. He’s charming, handsome, and so good with Lily. You told me about how he played Barbies with her on the day your da had his fall. Says a lot about his character, if you ask me.”
I open my mouth to argue, but she’s already leaning closer, voice dropping conspiratorially.
“And, well...” She glances towards the living room, where Da and Lily’s laughter drifts through. “The body on that lad! I love your da very much, but even at his best he never had muscles like that. Honestly, they were all on show when Helen opened Struan’s front door that time.” Her eyebrows perform anact of pure mischief. “And, well, let’s just say I caught a glimpse of something else before Struan rushed to cover himself up. All very respectable.”
Heat floods my cheeks. Oh my God. Is my mother really talking about Struan’sdick?
“Mum!” I practically choke. “You didnotjust say that.”
“What?” She laughs, utterly unbothered. “I’m just saying he’s the full package, that one.” A wicked pause. “And he has a very nice package too.”
“MUM!” My soul attempts a swift exit.
She only chuckles harder, the absolute menace. But then the humour drains away, something more serious settling over her.
“But seriously, Ainsley? Helen... she’s worried her boy is lonely.”
I pause, the mug I’ve just picked up frozen halfway to my lips. “Lonely?”
The word doesn’t compute. ThisisStruan Walker we’re talking about? The man with the charming grin and a bit of cheeky banter for anyone who passes. Who plays guitar at the Ferryman’s Rest each Thursday and is surrounded by admirers afterwards, like he’s some kind of rock star. The guy who’s so quietly confident it’s like he’s never experienced anxiety in his life.
“I doubt that very much.”
“Well, it’s what Helen thinks. He loves the weekend, when he’s got Isla. But during the week, when it’s just him, she thinks he gets a bit...” Mum searches for the word. “Down.”
Down?
Are we talking about the same person?
And yet . . .
Something tugs at the back of my mind. The guitar I heard last night. That slow, aching melody. It wasn’t the first time I caught him playing outside on a Sunday night. And the last time—before things got out of hand and I came on his lap—he said that Sunday evenings were his least favourite part of the week.
Hedidseem a bit lonely then.
“Anyway,” Mum continues, “if you don’t think Struan is the right person for you, or you don’t wantanyoneright now, I get that. After what you went through, it’d be completely understandable if you wanted to forget about dating for... well, however long you need. Only”—she meets my eyes—“I’m your mum and I want to see you happy. You deserve someone so much better than Danny was. And Helen? She wants to see Struan settle down with someone too.”
I start to object but she holds up a hand.
“And if that’s not with each other, that’s okay! Of course it’s okay. But Struan is a popular man around town. Just be aware that he might, well, get snapped up.” She shrugs. “And, again, that’s fine. If he’s not the one for you, that’s no issue.
“But if a part of youdoeshave feelings for him...” Her tone grows gentler. “Please don’t let your fears get in the way of giving him a proper shot. Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say on the matter. I won’t meddle or interfere anymore. I promise.”
“Thank you!” I say, perhaps a little too emphatically. “I’m going to keep you to that promise.”
But internally—annoyingly, inconveniently—I have to admit she’s given me a thing or two to think about.
Not that I’m about to admit that out loud.
I’m back at the house, and it’s just me here. Lily’s staying with my parents tonight, which means I can have a decent sleep and get to the salon early tomorrow without the nursery drop-off dance. A rare gift.
All I want is to change into something comfortable, collapse on the sofa, and let some mindless TV wash over me until my eyes get heavy.
