“Right, then, so we come back here after you get your things in town.”
She thinks about this. “I’d like that,” she finally says. “Are you sure I’m not wearing out my welcome?”
“Of course not. Did you see how eager my sisters were to spend time with you?”
She nods with a tentative smile, then frowns a bit. “Your father most definitely was not, though, was he?”
“Don’t worry about my father. He’s getting old, and senile. He can’t hurt you.”
She doesn’t look like she believes me. Her own father’s significantly younger than mine, having gotten married young. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have aging parents.
“Nan’s a hoot, she really is,” she says.
“Och, aye. You haven’t seen bloody anything yet with that one.”
She laughs out loud.
We head into town, just the two of us, and the ride’s a quiet one. I reach for her hand, and she holds mine.
“Sure there isn’t something on your mind?” I ask, when we’ve driven full minutes without her saying a word.
“Not much,” she says. “Just mentally preparing to finish that dress. I can't believe it's actually for your sisters’ mate. I have to admit I feel a little pressure now, to make sure I get it right."
“I’ve seen your work, Bryn, you’ve nothing to worry about. I’ve seen your work and it’s excellent.”
She tips her head to the side, and gives me a curious look. "How have you seen my work?"
Jesus, I fucked up. She isn’t supposed to know I’ve been stalking her on social media.
“Saw it yesterday at lunch, did you forget?”
“Forget what?” She eyes me curiously, looking confused.
“That you were working in the shop when I brought you the shortbread. And I may not be a fucking seamstress myself, but I know good work when I see it.”
She smiles bashfully. “Thank you.” She opens her mouth as if to say something else, then closes it abruptly and looks out the window.
I need to change the subject.
It’s a windy day, though bright and sunny. We talk about her days in school when she was just a wee lass, and I tell her about mine.
“Got in loads of trouble,” I say, shaking my head. “Got high marks, but almost got expelled for the trouble I got in.”
She laughs. “Why does this not surprise me?"
She tells me about her younger brother, and hints at her father’s expectations for him. “For someone relatively young to be a father, my father’s incredibly barbaric and archaic in his beliefs.”
She doesn’t have to say that twice. I know it to be fact as well.
But the entire drive into town, she looks like she's holding back something. Like she wants to say it but can't quite do it. I think about actually trying to make her feel more confident about it, whatever it is. Maybe she wants to admit something about her father, and that could come in handy. But I don't want to push her, I don't want her feeling uncomfortable about anything. My whole goal is to allow her to trust me, so I can do what I must.
She gets a few messages on her mobile, and she answers them quietly. Then we finally pull up to her store, and she smiles.
“You sure it makes sense for me to take everything with me, then?”
“Aye, lass, of course.”
“It might be a lot, though…”
