Page 9 of Eternally Bound

Bram’s head whipped up in interest, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Can I?” he begged.

“I thought you loved Mrs. McKay,” I teased him.

“I do,” he babbled, his blue eyes shining happily. “I love Nana more.”

Mum immediately chuckled, all giddy with her favorite grandson. The only grandson, but that was beside the point. She gently rubbed his curly blonde hair.

“I love you too, my little Bram.”

“Are you sure, Mum?” I asked her. I knew her joints hurt badly when her arthritis kicked in.

“Yes, I am.” She smiled, taking my hand and pressing a soft kiss on it. “Have you heard from Callen?”

Forcing a smile, I shook my head.

“Maybe he returned but has been busy?”

Truthfully, for all I knew, he could be back. We didn’t live together.

Was that another piece of evidence that we didn’t belong together? After all, it has been over three years since we met, gotten together, had a child together, broken off, gotten back together, and broke it off again.

Something inside me resisted moving on, and it flared with refusal entertaining the thoughts of moving in with him.

Initially, it was the sense of guilt that I was the cause for his broken engagement. Then, it was his gambling. Then it just didn’t feel right. Bram needed a father, every day. I knew that. Our relationship was unorthodox, and that was putting it mildly.

Lachlan understood though and always supported my decision. He liked Callen but wasn’t fond of his gambling habits nor the way his broken engagement came about. He blamed that one all on him. Unknowing as it may have been on my part, it didn’t make me feel any better.

“Well, I’m going to get going then,” I told them both. “Thank you for watching him, Mum. If you are not feeling well, just call me.”

I kissed Bram on the forehead and pressed a kiss on my mum’s cheek.

“Bye you two,” I shouted one last time, from the door as I exited the little cottage house we lived in.

Sometimes we stayed at the castle, but I preferred our little cottage. It was cozier and felt like home. People would have a field day if they knew a glamorous opera singer, Ainslee McLaren, lived in a small cottage with the view of a stream in her backyard. Sometimes in the summer, I even splashed in it.

I got into my Mini Cooper and shifted gears. Any day now the roads would be too slick to drive my little car on it. Somewhere south would be so much better - for all of us.

I turned the radio on and left it on whatever station was playing. It was easier than switching channels back and forth till I could find a song I liked. Today seemed full of memories anyhow, I probably wouldn’t hear a single note of it.

Music has always been a part of my life. For as long as I could remember. Even when Daniel enlisted and my heart ached, I sang through it. Lately though, I couldn’t find joy in singing. Something that was a fundamental part of me, like my heart and lungs, was no longer an escape from reality. It became a chore, and I wasn’t sure whether it was the result of my life, my worries, or if it was just a passing phase. Maybe my moody, diva phase kicked in.

I sped down the driveway, the countryside of Scotland one of my top favorite sceneries in the world. After my career kicked off, I traveled a lot through Europe, Asia, Africa, and the States. But nothing on this planet compared to the sights of my home country.

In the distance, McLaren castle sat on an elevated, little hill, overlooking the Highlands and River Teith that snaked throughout the lands. It was the same river I looked over from my mum’s little cottage window.

There was nothing in this world that compared to towering mountains, glittering lochs, dense woodlands, and miles upon miles of golden beaches of Scotland. I grew up here and the scenery still took my breath away. The beautiful nature of Scotland breathed life into me with its sparkling night sky, crisp sea water, and its wilderness.

There was nowhere else in the world I’d rather live. I wanted Bram to grow up here and love this place as much as I do. And maybe one day his children too.

I drove too fast down the country roads towards the city, although I couldn’t wait to be on my way back. I didn’t mind Edinburgh, but out here in the country was where I felt most at peace.

It took about an hour to get to the publishing house. I didn’t particularly like the grey building, nor the lack of any landscapes. At least Lachlan’s company was in the heart of the old city, downtown Edinburgh. The McLeod family has had this publishing house in the new part of the city, which was my least favorite.

This area held no charm for me. It was cold and unsettling. Once parked, I found it hard to move. My chest constricted, something inside me hurting, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason for it. I sat still, my eyes zeroed in on the blank wall in front of me.

Is this my crossroad? I wondered.

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