Page 34 of One Night in Glasgow
Kinna let out a whoop of joy so loud the couple at the next table turned to stare. “YES! Oh my god, Beth, that’s brilliant!” She vibrated with excitement. “Let’s start planning! What will you pack? What part of Brooklyn is the apartment in? We need to Google it right now!”
Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself grinning back at her, a genuine, wide grin. The fear was still there, a cold knot in my stomach, but now it was mixed with something else. Something wild and hopeful.
“Shit. Gotta go.” Kinna looked at her watch and sighed, realizing her lunch hour was long over. “Promise me you’ll call Mr. Douglas back as soon as I leave?”
“I promise,” I said.
“Good.” She gave my hand one last squeeze. “Go be brilliant, Beth. Show them all.”
As Kinna left, I remained at the table, but the vodka bottle in my bag no longer felt like a necessity. It felt like the past. I pulled out my phone, my fingers hovering over Mr. Douglas’s number.
My life in Glasgow was over. My parents had seen to that. But maybe my life in New York was just about to begin. The question wasn’t if I had the courage anymore.
I knew I did.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SEAN
My fingers fumbledwith my shirt buttons as I got ready for the standing monthly Sunday family dinner at my parents’ house, my mind a world away, still tangled up in Glasgow. The weight of it all, of Beth, had been a constant companion since I’d returned.
Reaching for my watch on the dresser, my hand brushed against something small and delicate. Beth’s bracelet. I picked it up, the thin silver chain a tangible link to our passionate night, her mischievous smile flashing in my memory. Then, just as quickly, the image shifted to our last, raw encounter on the street–her tangled hair, the anger and pain in her eyes as she’d accused me of wrecking her life. My gut twisted. I hadn’t meant to cause her harm, but she’d practically shoved me away when I tried to understand.
With a heavy sigh, I opened my dresser drawer and gently placed the bracelet inside, trying to close the door on the guilt,the regret, the damned attraction. “It’s over. Let it go,” I muttered to my reflection, but the words felt hollow.
As I drove through the familiar San Ramon streets, my thoughts remained a jumbled mess. I hoped Dad would have some advice; he’d always been my anchor for tough decisions, and I was definitely adrift now. The usual Sunday racket was missing as I pulled into their driveway; the house felt unusually quiet. Alec was in Seattle, Xander in London, the rest of the family scattered, a far cry from the joyful chaos I’d grown up with.
I let myself in, the scent of Mom’s cooking a familiar comfort. “Hello?” I called.
“In the kitchen, honey!” Mom’s voice sang out, easing some of my tension. She was her usual whirlwind, putting the finishing touches on a feast.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “You know it’s just me, right? You didn’t have to go all out.”
She swatted me playfully with a dish towel. “Nonsense. My boy’s home, and he’s going to eat well. Now, make yourself useful and set the table.”
Dad appeared as I was laying out the silverware, his eyes lighting up when he saw me. “Sean! Good to see ye, son.” We shared a quick hug.
Around the dining table, the house felt less empty. Mom, as always, had outdone herself. “So, Sean,” Dad said as we started to eat, “how’s life treatin’ ye? Any exciting stories from yer travels to Glasgow?”
I nearly choked on my water. Tell them? About Beth, the scandal, the utter clusterfuck? The words caught in my throat. “Oh, you know,” I managed, forcing a casualness I didn’t feel. “Same old, same old. Giving speeches, inspiring people. The usual.”
Mom beamed. “We’re so proud of you, honey. You’re doing such important work.” Guilt twisted inside me. If only she knew.
I found myself watching my parents, their easy intimacy, the unspoken language of their long partnership. My mind drifted to our unconventional, blended family of blood siblings, stepsiblings, cousins raised as siblings, a testament to my mom’s huge heart in taking in her sister’s kids after tragedy struck.
“Ye okay, Sean?” Dad’s voice broke through my thoughts. I’d been pushing food around my plate, lost again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just...thinking.” Mom reached out and squeezed my hand. “You know you can talk to us about anything, right?” I nodded, a lump in my throat. “I know, Mom. Thanks.”
The conversation flowed around me, updates on Alec and Xander. Mom sighed about everyone being scattered, but my father, ever the optimist, reminded her, “They’ll all be home for Christmas, dear. You’ll have your hands full then.”
After dinner, helping Mom clear the table, the weight of my dishonesty pressed down. They deserved the truth, but the thought of their disappointment was a heavy burden. Mom went to tackle the dishes, and Dad headed for the back porch. The crisp evening air felt good as I followed him out. He leaned against the railing, gazing at the darkening sky.
“So, son,” he said, his Scottish brogue calm and soothing, “how are ye really doing? And don’t give me that ‘same old, same old’ nonsense ye fed yer mother.”
I hesitated, my fingers drumming on the railing. The pressure inside me felt unbearable. “Da,” I began, the words raw, “I’ve really fucked up.”
Dad turned, his eyes filled with concern, but no judgment. “Aye, I thought as much. Tell me about it, lad.”
And so I did. The words tumbled out of me like a dam breaking…
