“I don’t think there’s any hurry for that,” I replied quietly. “I’ll do it at the antenatal appointment.”
Dr. Mulligan nodded and set out the schedule of what was to come. I trusted that Mum was listening intently because I was lost in my confused and aching emotions.
Since I was a kid, I’d dreamed of having my own family. I’d even dreamed that Lewis would be my children’s father. Yet never in those dreams were we separated and co-parenting.
I barely remembered leaving the doctor’s office with Mum. Instead, I remained in brooding silence while Mum drove us home. Except we didn’t return home. She drove us to An Sealladh, a restaurant fifteen minutes outside of Ardnoch, that sat on the coastline.
I looked at her questioningly, but she patted my hand and got out of the car. Following her out, we walked into the restaurant together. Since it was brunch time, it wasn’t rush hour inside and was fairly quiet. Thank goodness. I couldn’t deal with crowds right then. We snagged a table at the back beside the glass wall that overlooked the North Sea. There was an outdoor balcony, but today it was too overcast to sit outside.
“What can I get you ladies?” A younger girl appeared to take our order.
“A pot of English breakfast tea to share and two plain scones,” Mum ordered for us.
Hopefully, I’d keep it down. I had actual morning sickness. I was fine during the day and evening but upchucking in those first few hours after waking. Mum said she’d been exactly the same when she was pregnant with me.
“So…” Mum gave me a wobbly smile. “I’m going to be a grandmother.”
“The youngest grandmother ever.”
“Not really. But young.”
Afraid she was disappointed in me, I asked quietly, “How does that make you feel?”
“Callie … ever since you came into my life, I had a purpose. Moreover, I raised a child who is my best friend, and I know how lucky I am to say that.”
Tears burned in my eyes.
“And as your mom and best friend, you must know that I am always here for you. I will love my grandchild so fiercely, and they will know that I am always there for them too.”
A tear slipped free, and I dashed it away, embarrassed to be crying in public. Turning my head, I stared out at the water, hoping no one would see my tears.
“Baby girl, I have to ask … is it Gabriel’s? I just … I can’t seem to make that math work. Right?”
We hadn’t had this discussion. In the two days we’d waited anxiously to see the doctor, she hadn’t asked. And I hadn’t told her. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her because I couldn’t deal with the unraveling of messy emotions all that would bring. Aunt Ally hadn’t asked either. She’d texted me every day to check in, but she hadn’t pressed for information.
I looked back at my mum, sure my heartbreak and confusion roiled in my eyes. “It’s Lewis’s.” I turned away as my face crumpled.
“Oh, Callie.” Mum sucked in a breath, fighting tears too. She’d always gotten upset anytime I was upset.
The young girl serving us returned quickly with our tea and scones, and I felt so rude because I couldn’t look at her as Mum whispered a quiet thank you.
Sucking in a shuddering breath as we left the tea to steep in the pot, I finally felt in control enough to look at my mum again. “It happened in London. When I went there for Eilidh’s wrap party.”
Mum made anOshape with her mouth.
“We were drunk. Catching up. Trying not to get angry at each other. Trying to be civil. The attempt got out of hand. I don’t even know how it happened or how I let it happen.”
“I do.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Callie Ironside, you have loved that boy since the moment you set eyes on him. And he has loved you back all these years too. I remember the way Lewis watched you after what happened with Nathan, and I remember thinking how I’d never seen a little boy look so ready to jump in front of a moving bus for someone. And that’s how it’s always been between you. When you moved, he moved, and vice versa. Like two halves of a whole. Neither complete without the other. Even though you were kids, I always assumed you two would be forever. I don’t know what happened when you were eighteen. I wish I did.”
Her words made my chest ache even harder.
And so I told her.
Everything.
