“Once every blue moon when you can tear yourself away from the office? That’s not enough,” I said. He still didn’t understand that what the baby and I needed wasn’t his money. It washim. “And words don’t mean much without the action to back them up.”
Locke ran his hand along the back of his neck. “I just…I’m sorry, Isla,” he said, sounding desperate. “I’m trying to make this right.Please.”
I blinked, tears already gathering along my eyelashes, because as grand as this gesture was, it still wasn’t enough. “You have no idea what you’re even apologizing for. And I don’t think you ever will.” I stepped back to the manor house, stepped away from the utter disbelief on his face. “Showing up doesn’t mean anything when all you do is leave again.” And with that, I pulled the door behind me. “Goodbye, Locke.”
29
ISLA
“Listen, you lot!” Jo called, her voice rising sharply above the din in the meeting hall. As usual, today’s town council meeting was quickly devolving to a delightful blend of chaos, eye rolling, and hilarity. “Get your snow gritting priorities submitted to the council inbox by the end of the week.”
“Can we talk about Hogmanay?” Tam asked, raising his hand. “What’s the ruling on fireworks?”
I perked up, eager to hear what the council said. I loved celebrating New Year’s Eve in Scotland—it was so elaborate.
“As in previous years, the firework display will be held out on the green,” Patrick said. “There will be no individual displays permitted by townsfolk.”
“Thank God,” Agnes muttered from the row behind me, tittering with her knitting circle. “The last thing we need is another incident.”
I’d been hearing about thisincidentfor three years now, and I still didn’t know who was responsible. All I knew was it involvedsome poorly secured fireworks, a broken shop window, and melted cheese.
“Smelled incredible,” one of Agnes’s friends said. “Absolute nightmare to clean.”
“Are we doing a ceilidh this year?” Tam asked.
“If certain folks can abstain from putting in a noise complaint,” Jo muttered, her narrowed eyes flicking in Mrs. McBane’s direction.
There was a huff. “It sounded like the crowd in the pub was going to come crashing through my front door!”
“You live two blocks from the pub.”
“Exactly!”
Cat smirked next to me. Half the reason she came to these meetings was to enjoy the petty drama. Her face pinched suddenly, and I realized why as a frigid blast of early December air whipped through the hall. I burrowed into my giant, fuzzy sweater, hands wrapped around my stomach protectively. I knew my baby boy couldn’t feel the chill like that, but I grumbled anyway, throwing a glare over my shoulder like so many others.
“It’s Baltic out there,” Cat muttered.
“Cormick, if you open that door one more bloody time,” Jo growled, “I’m going to come down there and throttle you.”
“Bloody hell, woman! It wasn’t me,” Cormick cried, clearly offended.
“That’s my bad, Jo!” Weston called from the back of the room. “Sorry about that. Carry on.”
Jo harrumphed, ruffling her papers in front of her. “No one else leaves until the meeting is adjourned. We’re not paying to heat the outdoors!”
“My scones are going to be ice cubes,” Agnes whispered.
I pouted. I’d been looking forward to one of her scones all day. Honestly, it was half the reason I’d toddled over here. Yes, the drama was fun, but I could always switch on the telly instead. Today, my feet had been aching, and what I really wanted to do was loaf in bed—but the lure of crumbly, delicious scones had made me drag my arse all the way here in the bitter cold. If Weston had ruined my scone dreams, he was gonna get an earful.
Patrick got to his feet, clearing his throat and pulling my attention. “I know everyone’s eager to finish up, so I’ll just jump to the last of today’s announcements. The council is proposing that we host a winter festival after the new year. We will officially be opening the floor to a vote next week to gauge interest. Tell your friends, talk to your neighbors, spread the word.”
Excited murmurs swept through the crowd, the roar inside the meeting hall intensifying again. I caught Cat’s eye. She looked intrigued, and I had to admit I was too. Winter here was long and cold. A festival would give everyone something to look forward to, especially after the holidays had come and gone.
My thoughts drifted back to the summer festival, to Locke sprinting up to me, apologetic for missing it all. At that moment, some ridiculous part of me had thought we’d have the chance to do it over—do itbetter—next year. But there would be no next time for us. Not anymore. And every time I remembered that, it hurt all over again. I tried stuffing the ache down along with all the frustration and longing I’d been battling since the breakup.At least I wouldn’t foolishly be waiting around for Locke to turn up this time. I knew better.
“This’ll be so fun,” Cat whispered to me.
I nodded in agreement, forcing a smile. “I’ll be waddling up and down the high street like a penguin by then. Probably about ready to pop.”
