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“Oh? And what do you suggest I say to her?”

“You’ve never been scared of chatting to lassies before. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

I shake my head. “I reckon I should just give her some space.”

“Pass me that book! I want to hit you again.”

“Bloody hell, Maw! All right, I’ll go chat to her.”

“Good. And you be nice, okay? Think before you speak. You may be feeling sorry for yourself, but remember, this is a lot harder for her. If you’re about to say something foolish, picture me whacking you with that book, then bite your tongue. Don’t be an eejit!”

I find Grace in the Bannock Hotel’s garden, which is around the back of the building. She, Emily, and David are sitting on a bench that Ally had installed earlier this year to commemorate his mother and father.

“You shouldn’t have been going through this all by yourself.” Emily, whose face is etched with worry lines, is holding Grace’s hand. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

“And me,” David adds. “I’m your twin!”

Grace nods, wiping her eyes. “Thanks. I don’t know why I can’t stop crying—I’m glad you both know now.”

As I wander over, all three look up.

“Hi.” I raise a hand in greeting. It’s a bloody stupid way to start, but I wasn’t sure what else to say.

“We’ll leave you two to it.” David squeezes his sister’s arm then stands. “Aidan.” He inclines his head and pats my shoulder as he passes.

Emily gets up too. “When you want us to come back, just shout,” she tells Grace. “We won’t go far.”

They head into the hotel, and I edge closer to the bench.

“Is it okay if I sit?”

She nods, so I do.

“So . . .” I don’t know where to begin.

“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?” Grace stares ahead, dabbing at her eyes.

“Aye. It is.”

“I’ve not slept with anyone else, just in case you were wondering.”

“Right.”

There goes any hope this is all some big misunderstanding and it’s actually another guy’s baby.

Shit. What to ask first? What I want to know more than anything is if she’s planning to keep the baby, but even without Maw’s warning, I’m aware that’d be an insensitive first question. I’d also like to ask her about the condom, but that’s not a great place to start either. Besides, why would she know any more about that than me? Maybe it tore—that’s something I should have checked for afterwards. But we were drunk and in a hurry to get back downstairs . . .

“How have you been feeling?” I ask instead.

“Not great. The morning sickness has been pretty bad, and it’s been lonely keeping this to myself. I’m also . . . scared.”

Her words hurt me—a sharp, physical pain in my chest. I’m surprised by my reaction, but I really don’t like the idea of her being alone and afraid.

I want to reach out and comfort her, just as Emily and David used touch as well as words to soothe her earlier. But I’m out of my depth: when it comes to the opposite sex, flirting is the only tool I’ve got. Unless I’m trying to get a woman to my bed, I don’t know how to act around her. Besides, I got Grace pregnant—I’m not sure she’d want me putting my hands anywhere near her.

I keep them on my lap. “I get why you’re scared. It’s a big deal. How far along are you?”

“Fifteen weeks and two days.” She turns to me, her dark-brown eyes watery. “And if you weren’t aware, they count it from your last period, not from conception. I’m just telling you in case you do the maths, realise we had sex thirteen weeks ago, and try to claim it can’t be yours.”