"Acting is the right career for him then, huh." Zara says with a sad trombone half smile. She inhales deeply and exhales loudly. "Welp, we have two ways to play it."
I close my eyes wishing I could sink into a broken heart like a normal person because right now I feel like Christmas lights that have been left out all winter just unplugged.
Visible, but an eyesore. A reminder of how joyful things used to be.
But I’m country music’s current crush so instead of wallowing, I have, or as Zara insists "get", to turn this into a strategic career move.
She takes my lack of response as her green light.
"First, I could try and get you into a new PR relationship ASAP." Zara says as she scrolls. "Make it seem like you two had been on the rocks for a while and now you're both moving on."
The idea of it sinks like a boulder to the bottom of the loch.
As much as I hate Mike right now, things weren’t on the rocks. At least not for me.
We just did a joint appearance in our best pastels for an Easter Egg hunt at The Zoo. He was affectionate and attentive but he didn’t want to drive all the way out to my house afterwards. He promised me he’d visit soon.
But "soon" never came, did it?
"What's the other option?"
"We play the brokenhearted hero card."
I need this meeting to be over. I might die if I don’t burrow into the corner of this sofa in dirty sweats with a pint, no,gallonof ice cream on my lap soon. But real soon. Not "Meek Car" soon. "Which is?"
"Your general moping and brooding." I can do that. "Maybe we have you hideaway for a bit, say you're channeling your sadness into song." Yes please. But, her suddenly straight spine and sparkling eyes have me hesitating. "Actually, yeah."
I watch wearily as she stands up and starts to pivot a few paces in each direction on the other side of the coffee table as she splays her fingers as wide as she can while clutching two phones in one hand.
"Let's send you somewhere sort of remote, like we can get pictures of you at the airport and then encourage the paps to leave you alone." She slides one phone into the other hand. "The story will be you're off for some R&R and writing and then we'll fast track the production of this next album and people will be like," she adopts a high-pitched falsetto voice, "oh swoon, this is the album he wrote when his heart was plumb broken and I know he's gayer than Batman and Robin but if only he met me, I'd turn him."
"You're an asshole." I say with a bit of a laugh.
"I might be, but I do my job." She unlocks one of her phones and starts tapping away with her thumbs. "And I know exactly where to send you."
"Where?"
"Home."
"I am home." My brow furrows as I gesture around the sprawling Tennessee home we're currently scheming in.
"No,homehome."
I close my eyes and breathe. "Why?"
"Because you haven't been in ages and it's the perfect spot. We'll get photos at Heathrow or Inverness, I'm looking for flights now. Then you can scurry off to your family's highlands estate with security and sprawling grounds and I will be able to control the narrative."
"Alright." I pull my own phone from my pocket. I guess I should give Ma and Da a heads up. I'm coming home. Alone.
Chapter three
Duncan
Son of a Scurvy Dog
"Ahoy!"GrannyFrannyyellsboisterously as we exit the terminal. "What a right crew of scallywags."
The short, stout, tough as nails woman wraps my mother, father, sister, and I into hugs.
