She frowns at me, so I flash her a smile. “Don’t tell me it’s not fancy enough for you,” I add, knowing that will egg her on.
“Hey,” she says, raising her palm at me, “don’t talk to me about fancy. The most interesting people are found at dive bars.”
“Well, this is a dive pub, so it’s a step above. Just don’t order any of the food.”
“Don’t want to spoil my appetite.”
“You don’t want to get sick.” I get out of the car and grab her hand.
To be honest, I haven’t been in here since high school, but it smells just the same. Grease and salt from the fryer, fish batter, stale beer that owns the red and green carpet. The memories come flashing back, not all of them horrible.
It’s just after five o’clock, and the pub is fairly full of regular blokes off from work. We snag a high-top table by the door and I ask Kayla what she wants to drink.
“Surprise me,” she says, though there’s an air of caution in her voice, as if I’m going to get her a beer called the Haggis Surprise.
“Done.” I saunter over to the overworked bartender, who’s wearing a grey shirt with sweat stains down the sides. I’m pretty sure he’s the same guy who worked here fifteen years ago.
I lean against the bar and wait until he notices me, and when he does his eyes go wide. But there’s no way I look the same as I did back in the day, growth spurt or not.
“Well, I’ll be,” the man says, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. “Lachlan McGregor.” I squint at him, trying to figure it out when he continues, “You’re the best part of Edinburgh rugby. Tell me you’re fully healed now? The team has been playing the dog’s bollocks since you left us.”
That’s not exactly true. The end of last season wasn’t particularly good, but that might have happened whether I was on the team or not.
“I’m back,” I tell him.
“Brilliant. Practice going well? Ready for the big game?”
“Aye,” I tell him, not wanting to get into it. “Could I get a pint of ale and a pint of cider for the lady over there?” I gesture to Kayla. She’s sitting at the table, taking it all in.
“No worries. It’s on the house, mate,” he says, and promptly pulls out the pint glasses.
“Well, cheers then,” I say as he hands me the drinks. I take a moment to stare at the amber liquid, my thirst suddenly rampant. I could down it all in a second, just two gulps, and the relief would be immediate. Instead, I bring both drinks over to her, my hands shaking slightly.
“Here you go,” I tell her.
“Did the guy know you?”
I shrug. “Not really. More like he knew who I was.”
She beams at me, sliding the cider toward her. “That’s awesome. You’re famous.”
I grunt, holding the beer up to my lips. “It happens rarely.”
“Nooooo,” she says. “The other day when we were walking on, what was it, Princes Street, there were a lot of people looking at you.”
“They were looking at you,” I tell her warmly. “My beautiful girl.” I hold out my beer and knock it against her glass. “Here’s to…”
“Meeting your folks,” she says.
I nod. “Yes. That.” I drink my beer, half of it gone immediately.
She takes forever to finish hers, so when my glass is empty, she nudges her cider toward me. “Here, I can’t finish this.”
I hesitate. Just for a moment. Just enough to maybe rein myself in. The glass is about half full and I’m already feeling swimmy. If I finish it, I know it will lead me to that place where every guilty thought I’ve ever had will magically disappear.
I want to be in that place, especially now, especially with this gorgeous, wonderful woman who I am so terribly unworthy of.
But I won’t. With effort, I shake my head, declining the drink. I get us out to the car and on our way. The wind is picking up now, pushing grey clouds in from the coast and coating everything with a fine mist. Everything is blindingly green because of it.
Jessica and Donald’s house is about three hundred years old and looks it. The stone fence outside is crumbling, a few of the larger rocks having toppled over no thanks to me and my predisposition for running along it when I was younger. The rest of the house has ivy growing up the sides, though Jessica’s garden is manicured as always, the sunflowers along the south side already waist high.
“Oh my god,” Kayla says, her hand to her chest as we pause by the iron gate. “This is like something from a movie. Is this where you grew up?”
“Aye,” I tell her. “Hasn’t changed much.”
“It’s like a fairytale.”
Something in my chest clenches. While the pub held mostly pleasantly memories, maybe because I was always in there with my mates, the house held a world of others. It was both my first real home since I had been given up for adoption, and it was also the place I felt most unworthy of. It also held the time where my life began to go tits up for no reason other than my own doing.
Christ. I should have had that cider after all.
Before I can dwell on it anymore, the front door, forever painted bright red, opens, and Jessica and Donald step out, giving us a wave.
“Lachlan,” Jessica calls to me in that sing-songy voice of hers. She’s wearing all black, believing it to be slimming even though she’s always been quite thin. Her grey hair is straight and shiny, and she’s wearing just a few sparkly jewels and what looks like little makeup. Donald looks just as dashing in his usual vest, his hands shoved down into his pockets, wearing glasses that complement his sharp eyes. My adopted parents are some of the classiest, smartest people you’ll ever meet. I often wonder how they found it in their hearts to take me in at all.
I make the introductions quickly, giving them both a hug hello before proudly showing them Kayla. “Jessica, Donald, this is Kayla,” I tell them. Even though I mentioned on the phone a few days ago that I was bringing a girl over, I don’t think they’ve quite gotten over the shock because they both look taken aback.
Finally, Jessica shakes her head. “Oh, she’s darling,” she says, and brings Kayla into a light hug. When she pulls away, she holds her by the shoulders at arm’s length and peers at her. “Where ever did you find such a lovely girl? And one that would want to come all the way here with the likes of you?” she adds, taking the piss out of me like she often does.
Kayla is blushing. I love how she’s so confident at times yet always takes compliments with a sense of disbelief, as if she’s never heard how beautiful she is, as if she’s hearing it for the first time. It makes me want to say it again and again and again, until she believes it. If only she didn’t look so bloody brilliant when flushed.
“It’s really nice to meet you,” Kayla says. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
I raise my brows. Actually, I’ve rarely talked about them, but it seems to be the right thing to say because Jessica looks pleased as punch.
“Is that so?” she asks, sending me a questioning look. “Good things, I hope.”
“Always,” I say just as Donald comes forward, offering his hand.
“Glad to have you here,” he says to her. “How are you enjoying Scotland so far?”
“I love everything about it,” she says. “It’s going to be hard to go home.”
If I was numb, those words wouldn’t hurt the way they do. She seems to still a bit after saying it, the smile frozen on her lips, almost hyperaware. She’d told me a few days ago that we weren’t to mention that she was leaving, and we’d been sticking to it, living in a dream of sex and soul, pretending the days were endless and time was only for other people but not us.
“Well, you just stay here for as long as you like,” Donald says smoothly, putting his arm around her shoulder and leading her into the house. “We have a nice cuppa ready for you.”
As he leads her inside, Jessica grabs my arm and pulls me down toward her.
“I just wanted to say,” she says quietly, her eyes bright, “that I didn’t know what to expect when you told us you were bringing over a girl. I don’t want to make this a bigger deal than it is. I know you very well, Lachlan.” I frown at her and she continues, “You’ve never been one for sentiment. But I just wanted to tell you that I’m so happy for you. She seems lovely, and she’s beautiful.”