She nods, though her expression is pained. “I’m not a good flier,” she admits, holding tighter as the plane bumps around again, my stomach flipping.
“It’s okay,” I say, returning her grip. I look out the window to see the ground getting closer, the perimeter fence of the airport quickly approaching. “We’re almost there.”
And while I can feel her pulse racing against my skin, I know she can feel mine doing the same. But it’s not flying that I’m afraid of. It’s what happens when we land. It’s beyond complicated, feeling so happy that she’s here, and at the same time, I’m nervous about what’s going to happen next. It’s been a very, very long time since I’ve let anyone into my life, and I’m about to do that with her. I have no idea what will happen when she has to leave. Worse than that, I have no idea what will happen when and if she discovers the real me. Because I’m tempted to throw the doors wide open and let her in, to show her all the dark and ugliness inside me.
If she runs and never comes back, I’ll have no one to blame but myself. I fear the blame, my habit for self-loathing, might be my ruin once again.
The wheels touch down with a screech and the plane blasts forward on the runway for a moment before the brakes come into full effect. Once the plane slows, Kayla loosens her grip, but it turns out mine is stronger.
“I didn’t know you were afraid too,” she says as I let go.
I only smile at her. I’d much rather trade one fear for another.
It doesn’t take long before we’ve disembarked and are waiting by the luggage carousel. I laugh when I see Kayla’s luggage come around on the belt, screaming hot pink.
“What?” she says defensively. “That way I know it’s mine.”
“Kind of defeats the purpose if it blinds everyone, love,” I remind her, reaching over to pick up the suitcase. Then we head over to the oversized luggage area to pick up Emily in her dog crate.
She looks scared and the crate smells something awful, but there’s still enough drugs in her system so she’s subdued and not panicking. I whisper soothing words to her through the wire gate and she seems to understand that things will only get better.
Originally, when I was arriving alone, I was going to have my brother pick me up, but with Kayla here, and since we were on a different flight, a taxi is a much better option.
We get ourselves into a cab, and Kayla is already marveling at how different it all is.
“I forgot you drive on the other side of the road,” she says. “And this cab is crazy with your flip-down seats and everything.” She kicks the seat across from her for emphasis, which makes Emily raise her head.
“I think you need some sleep,” I say gently, putting my arm around Kayla and holding her against me.
“Sleep is the last thing I need,” she says, sliding her hand over my stomach. But five minutes into the drive and she’s asleep against me.
My flat is in the Stockbridge area of the city, so it takes a while for us to get there, battling among the morning commuters. By the time we arrive at North East Circus Place I almost don’t want to wake Kayla, she’s sleeping so deeply.
“Hey,” I whisper to her while the cabbie slides open the door and pulls our luggage out. “We’re here.” I remove my arm and shake her a bit. It takes forever for her to open her eyes, but when she does, she’s frowning in confusion. Once she seems to recognize me, she smiles.
“Wow,” she says, her voice croaking. “I was deep under.”
“As soon as I get you inside, I’ll put you to bed,” I tell her, unbuckling our seatbelts and helping her out of the cab. She leans against it, unsteady, while I pay the driver, and stares up at the building.
“Is this all yours?” she asks.
I take her arm and pull her away from the cab before it drives away.
“Only the first floor,” I tell her. “Although that’s what you would call the second floor in America.” She doesn’t seem to hear me—she’s just blinking in awe.
I guess it does look a lot different than what she’s used to. The whole row of stone buildings take up a block as one attached complex. Though the false balconies and wrought iron details are similar to the ones I’ve seen in San Francisco, it’s the stone that sets it apart. And the fact that it was built two hundred years ago.
“It used to be one big townhouse back in the day,” I tell her, taking our luggage and Emily’s crate to the white-painted door. I nod at the garden and apartments set below on either side of the bridge-like walkway. “A nice couple with a baby rents the bottom and ground floor flats. I have the first floor. The top of the building is owned by an older couple, but they’re rarely in the city.”
“So you can just own different floors of the same house?” she asks.
I nod. “It’s common here.”
She looks behind her at the green trees of the park across the street, their leaves shining with morning dew.
“That’s Circus Place,” I point out. “One of the places I take Lionel or whichever dog I’m fostering at the moment. A couple of blocks down is the Queen Street Gardens. The neighborhood is very dog friendly and it’s close to Princes Street, the castle, and anywhere else you’ll want to go in the city.”
“Is Lionel upstairs?” she asks as I stick the key in the door.
I shake my head. “Amara has him. She’ll bring him by later. But first, let’s deal with you.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she says, stifling a yawn.
I leave the luggage at the bottom of the stairs and take Emily’s crate and Kayla up to the first floor.
“I can’t believe this would have been one big house,” she says, admiring the royal blue carpet on the stairs and the teak wood trim on the walls.
“People had a lot of money back in the day,” I tell her, bringing her to the front door on the landing. “And people with money had servants to house. Probably a mistress and a bastard child too.”
She raises her brows. “So where do you keep your mistress?”
“You’re the mistress, the wife, the girlfriend, the everything.” It takes me a moment to realize I’ve said something that was probably a bit much, but the prettiest pink flush spreads to her cheeks. I can’t open the door fast enough.
I place Emily in the hall, closing the door behind us, and grab Kayla’s hand. “Quick tour while I get Emily some water and food.”
The hallway off the stairs has doors leading to the front and rear of the flat. At the rear is the kitchen and the dining room with shuttered floor to ceiling windows that look out onto the private walled garden that I share with the other residents.
“Holy shit.” Kayla whirls around, taking it all in. “This room is huge. These are the highest ceilings I’ve ever seen.”
I quickly duck into the kitchen to fill a dog dish with water, and I add a small amount of dog kibble into another bowl. Lionel usually eats raw food, but it’s best to start Emily off with something easy.
I come back out to see Kayla roaming around the room, running her hand over the dark oak table in the middle, marveling at everything. Because the room is so large, I’ve got a computer workstation set up in the corner and a long white leather couch along one wall.
“It’s more than enough space for me, that’s for sure,” I tell her, and she follows me back into the hall where I set the bowls down and open Emily’s crate. I crouch down and try to coax her out, but she shrinks back.
“We’ll give her some time,” I tell Kayla and step away. “Come, let me show you the rest of the flat.” I nod at a door across from us. “The bathroom is accessed through there. I wish it were an ensuite, but what can you do?”
I open the door to the drawing room, the natural morning light flooding from the windows. “This is the drawing room, which is just a living room in your American speak.”
“Only it’s not just any kind of room,” Kayla says, impressed again as we walk in, eyeing the comfy couches, the rows of bookshelves, the high hanging chandelier. Funny how sometimes you have to look at something through someone else’s eyes to really see it. I knew I’d lucked out when I bought the flat five years ago. I’d finally had enough money to invest it into something worthwhile (a few years after that I bought a tiny flat in London, but that I always lease out). From the hardwood floors to the decorative cornice work to the white marble fireplace, it’s always been just a little too good for a bloke like me. But my adopted father, Donald, always taught me to invest, and buying this place was one of the smartest things I’d ever done.