“Yes.”
“Because Mary likes it?”
“Because I think it’s calming. The fact that Mary agrees is purely coincidental.”
“Coincidental. Sure.”
“Go to hell, Nate.”
He laughs and starts taking pictures of the walls, the floors, the windows.
I watch him work and, for the first time in weeks, I feel strangely calm.
I’m going to renovate this clinic.
I’m going to make it mine.
I’m going to stay in Glenfield.
And I’m going to fight for Mary.
“By the way,” Nate says while measuring the waiting room, “are you planning to talk to her?”
“To who?”
“To Mary, idiot. Are you going to tell her any of this? That you’re renovating the clinic? That you’re staying?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“You should.”
“Why?”
He turns to face me with an intensity that reminds me why we’re friends in addition to being cousins.
“Because she needs to know you’re serious. Not just about her. About Glenfield. About your future. About… everything.”
He’s right.
“And what if she doesn’t want me?” I ask quietly.
Nate shakes his head like my stupidity physically pains him.
“Finn…”
“How do I even know what she really wants? We’ve never talked about the future…”
I stop abruptly as the realization detonates inside my skull hard enough to nearly knock me sideways even though I’m already sitting down.
What if Mary doesn’t plan on staying either?
“That woman knows exactly what she wants,” Nate says firmly. “And she chose you. So stop making excuses and fight for her.”
He sets down the measuring tape.
“Renovate the clinic. Stay in Glenfield. Tell her how you feel. And stop living like you’re still running from Edinburgh.”
I nod, my throat tight.
