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His laughter echoes through the room. “Okay, I get the message—pretending to propose to you is not a prank you find funny. Noted. Anyway, as I’m not too keen on your suggestion, why don’t we go for my first proposal of breakfast in bed?”
I slide my hand under the covers and take a hold of his penis. “Hmm . . .” I say, considering. “Fine, you can keep it. This time.” I give it a squeeze then let go.
He chuckles, pecks me on the lips, then slips out of the bed, his skin glowing in the gentle morning light that filters through the curtains. He yawns and stretches, his muscles flexing, and I openly admire his naked form. From a wardrobe, he produces a pair of joggers, which he tugs on, not bothering with underwear, apparently. He puts on a T-shirt too then leans over me, gives me another kiss, and leaves to prepare breakfast.
I close my eyes and gently rub my bump, happily listening to the sounds of Aidan humming away to himself as he rustles something up. I’m so relaxed I’m drifting off again when there’s a knock at the door.
“I’ll get it!” Aidan calls.
His footsteps pad through the living area, the door creaks open, and then . . . nothing. Aidan doesn’t say anything.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“Er . . . Grace, you may want to come out here.”
Puzzled, I get out of bed and search Aidan’s wardrobe for a dressing gown. Not finding one, I instead pull on a pair of shorts and a hoodie then head through. When I see who’s at the door, I freeze.
“Mum?”
She stands stiffly in the doorway, a small suitcase by her side. “Hello, Grace.”
I don’t know what to say or even what to think. I’m still so hurt by what she did, but at the same time, she travelled up to Bannock? She should be taking things easy!
“You . . . you’d better come in,” I offer eventually.
“Thank you.” With a forced smile, she steps inside.
Aidan, his jaw tightly set, closes the door behind her.
“Er, over here. Take a seat.” I gesture to an armchair, while I sit on the sofa.
Aidan hovers, unsure whether he’s meant to stick around for this conversation, so I pat the spot beside me. I’m done with excluding him and speaking with Mum in private. He deserves to be a part of this and hear everything.
Mum lowers herself into the chair, having left the suitcase by the entrance.
I glance over at it. “It looks like you’ve brought a lot of stuff with you.”
“Oh, those are your things. You left in such a rush yesterday you didn’t have time to pack anything. I thought you might need some supplies.”
I’m taken aback by this. “Er . . . thanks.”
We’re getting off on the wrong foot. I’m supposed to be annoyed with her, but instead I’m thanking her. I’m also concerned about her—it’s a confusing mix of emotions.
An awkward silence settles.
“Grace, I . . .” Mum begins, but then her breath hitches. She blinks.
Wait, are her eyes growing watery? As if in answer to my question, a tear slips down her cheek.
I’m stunned. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Mum cry before. She’s always been . . . unshakable. Yes, since the diagnosis, she’s shown another side of herself—she’s opened up, confiding in me how hard it was for her as a single mother. But actually seeing her teary shocks me.
“Mum?” Already my anger is melting away—I couldn’t hold on to it if I wanted to. This is the woman who gave birth to me and raised me. How can I stay annoyed with her when she’s upset like this?
“I’m fine. I’m just . . .” She gulps. “I’m so, so sorry, Grace. I’ve been so troubled by what you said about Mark—I’d no idea. Obviously, I don’t know what’s best for you, and I need to trust you to make your own decisions. What I did—calling Aidan behind your back—was unacceptable.
“I can’t bear the thought of losing you or of not being a part of my granddaughter’s life. And Aidan”—her attention turns to him—“I’m not sure how you and I are going to get past this, or even if we can get past this. Have I ruined any chance of the two of us getting along?”
Aidan glances at me and raises his brows. It seems he’s deferring to me to decide how to handle this, which is understandable—she is my mother, after all.
