He doesn’t laugh. “No, I can’t believe you organized the whole thing and now you can’t go. It doesn’t seem fair. And also, it’s my birthday: I want you there.”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to go fifth-wheel a double date.” Light, Abby, keep it light despite the stabbing feeling in your gut and the fact that your heart is beating at roughly the speed of sound. Don’t think about how this could be the end of your life as you currently know it.
“It’s not a…I mean…I just don’t know what to say. I can’t believe she’s here.” He runs a hand through his hair.
I give his elbow a little squeeze. “Go. Have fun. I’ll crash atAmina’s tonight. Just let me know when you’re ready to debrief, and whether said debrief should be accompanied by a whisky from Islay or from the Highlands.”
He grabs me and pulls me into such a tight hug that I fear for the integrity of my kidneys. His long sigh ruffles my hair and he holds the embrace for ages. I rub idle circles in his back and don’t let myself contemplate the possibility this might be the last time we can hold each other like this. Then he withdraws and walks out of the room without a backward glance.
Sadie materializes at my side like some sort of sexy vampire. “Well, fuck me running.”
I shake my head. “You can say that again.”
Then Bashie’s there. “Good fucking riddance.”
“Why do you hate her so much?” Sadie asks.
“I used to love her. We were all obsessed with her, all the Scotland lads. But she changed. Two years ago, Lachlan’s da died, near the end of the season. Lach was in Madrid, and they were so close to first in the league, but ’course he had to go up for the funeral. Missed the most important match of the season, but everyone understood. But he had to beg Claire to come to Oban. She was there for less than twenty-four hours, then went straight back to Spain. Left him to sort everything out, didn’t lift one wee finger to help. Poor Moira in shambles with her husband gone, Eilidh come all the way from New Zealand devastated, Lach tore up about it. Maybe he can forgive that, but I cannae. You don’t fucking do that to someone you love.”
“That’s awful.” Sadie slips her fingers in Bashie’s hand and squeezes it. It’s a small gesture, but filled with so much tenderness that it makes my heart hurt. I wonder if she took my advice and said something to Bashie. I hope she did, because they’re great together.
I’m touched by Bashie’s story as well, for the obvious love he has for his teammate, his brother. And I have so much pity for Lachlan for not having the support of the one person who should have been there for him unconditionally. And I’m filled with rage at Claire, at the very thought of her and how she treats this man like an afterthought. I realize I’m actually clenching my fists like a cartoon character, like if she came back in here I’d give her a good POW! right in the kisser.
The moment is broken, though, not by Claire’s return, but by Bashie slinging an arm around Sadie and me. He leans close, the smell of beer on his breath. “Anyway, Macca, now that the she-beast has binned you off, Sadie and I are free if you’re looking for something—or someone—to do.”
Sadie smacks him in the chest, but I have to laugh at the audacity of taking a sweet, poignant moment like this and trying to leverage it for sex. “I’m flattered, Bashie, but I’ll have to pass tonight.”
“Offer’s always on the table.”
I slip out from under his arm and wave goodbye with one hand while pecking out a text to Amina with the other. Back in my office, I grab my gym bag from under my desk and hope there are clean clothes in there, because I’m sure as hell not risking going back to Lachlan’s tonight.
Two buses and a train later, Amina answers her door after only one knock and presses a bottle of chilled rosé into my hands. “Tell me everything.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Amina is the best possibleaudience for any sort of story, as she is incapable of muting her reactions. She listens to me like she’s in a movie theater, her eyes widening at the scary parts, her gasps genuine. I dwell for long stretches on my interpretation of Lachlan’s face and mood as soon as Claire entered the room; she nods solemnly like I’m a Nobel laureate delivering a lecture. I tell her about our game of Truth or Dare in the Lake District; she actually squeals. It’s incredible to unburden myself with the unvarnished version of our saga. Amina is not Josh; she won’t judge me for actions that are, if I’m being honest with myself, right on the border of homewrecking. And listen, I’m not proud of all of it, but I don’t see what the alternative is. I’m in too deep. I can’t get him out of my head, and honestly, I’ve stopped trying. Am I a bad person? I hope not. After all, I don’t think Lachlan is a bad person, and he’s doing everything I am…right?
I finish my story and await her verdict.
It comes quickly: “Okay, so he’s leaving her for you.”
The thought makes me queasy and elated in equal measure, an emotional Tilt-a-Whirl. “No, Amina, this is the part where you convince me it’s all in my head and that I’m a fool to even think about it, much less give voice to these delusions.”
“Why would I do that when I know you’re already having that argument with yourself?” she asks, nailing it. “I’m just trying to present the case as I see it: He likes spending time with you, it’s getting increasingly intimate and flirty, and—most importantly—he looked like he was going to shit himself in terror when his long-lost wife returned. Does she know that you’re living together?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Why?”
“Well, if he’s told her, then he probably just thinks of you as a friend. Like, someone Claire shouldn’t be threatened by. But if he hasn’t, it’s because it’s something he wants to conceal. Because he thinks of you as more than a flatmate. Because he’s in love with you.”
I fall onto her sofa and press a pillow to my face.
Amina pours some peanuts into a bowl and chews on a handful, a curious look on her face. “How much do you know about the divorce process in Scotland?”
I lift the pillow and frown. “You know, Ialmostmajored in Scottish jurisprudence, but decided to go with the far more niche choice of communications in the end. Damn.” I snap my fingers.
She rolls her eyes. “Okay, I’ve been thinking this for weeks now, ever since you told me about the Minute of Agreement you saw, but I didn’t want to get you all excited. However…” She draws the word out with a pointed look. “If you’re domiciled in Scotland, as I assume Lachlan is—”
“Domiciled?”
