Only You, page 11
I pulled myself together enough to ask Ellen to be a liaison to Brodan. If Ellen thought it was strange that I didn’t want to be the liaison, considering Lewis was my pupil, my colleague didn’t say a word. She was too busy being ecstatic that she got to be Brodan’s go-to person at the school. Ellen and David had met with Brodan prior to today to discuss the script and songbook. I’d used my caretaking duties for Mum as my excuse not to be in attendance for the meeting.
Of course, the news overjoyed Anita. She hoped for some social media gold because of Brodan’s presence. The teachers of the lower school were not so happy. They grumbled about us using outside help. However, Anita reminded them they could use someone else to direct as well. Still, I didn’t think it was our using outside help as much as it was us using a famous Hollywood actor as said outside help. If it were up to me, it wouldn’t be happening, but apparently, I had very little control over my life at the moment.
At least, that’s the way it felt sometimes.
We’d been given a schedule for when we could use the gymnasium. The back wall of the gym folded away to reveal our large cafeteria, which would become the seating area for the audience on show night. The gymnasium was also a stage and backstage area and a great place to rehearse. Ellen, David, and I had gathered the children there to wait for Brodan.
The kids’ excited chatter had died down at Brodan’s arrival, and I met Lewis’s gaze now.
“Can I go over to say hello, Ms. Sinclair?” he asked quietly.
“You may.” I gestured toward the Hollywood star without looking at him.
Lewis grinned and shot to his feet. My gaze reluctantly followed him as he hurried over to Brodan. My chest squeezed as Brodan’s entire face lit up at the sight of his nephew. He pulled Lewis into his side for a hug, bending his head to ask him something I couldn’t hear. Lewis craned his head back, grinning up at his uncle as he nodded and replied. Whatever it was made Brodan chuckle and bend down to press a kiss to the top of Lewis’s head. So easily affectionate. He was the same when we were kids—always taking my hand, hugging me, kissing my temple.
Bringing me to orgasm in the castle turret.
My cheeks flushed at the inappropriate memory, and thankfully, the kids distracted me. Their chatter rose with their growing impatience, so I hushed them as Ellen and David strolled over with Brodan and Lewis at their backs. To my horror, I noted the way Lewis’s eyes locked on me, and he tugged on his uncle’s hand, drawing him toward me.
The memory of Brodan ignoring me in William’s flashed through my mind, and I forced myself not to wince. My anger resurged.
“Uncle Brodan, this is my teacher, Ms. Sinclair,” Lewis introduced us as they drew to a stop beside me.
Harnessing all my professionalism, I nodded at Brodan, whose eyes rested anywhere but on me. “Hello, Mr. Adair.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw as he gave me a chin lift in greeting and turned away, drawing Lewis with him.
“Everyone, we’d like to introduce you to our director, Mr. Brodan Adair. Say hello to Mr. Adair.” Ellen beamed from ear to ear. Honestly, I’d never seen her so happy.
“Hello, Mr. Adair!” the children chorused.
Brodan grinned. “Hi, everyone.”
“My mum fancies you,” a boy from Ellen’s class called out. “She told my dad she’d dump him for you if you asked.”
David covered a snort with a cough while Brodan tried not to laugh. Ellen, however, scowled at her pupil. “None of that, Max Kristofferson.” She glanced at Brodan and noted his hands resting on Lewis’s shoulders. “Lewis, return to your seat, please.”
A few seconds later, everyone but the adults were seated, and the children were quietly waiting for direction. Ellen hurried over to the chair where she’d placed the pile of scripts and brought them over to hand out.
“Mr. White plays the piano, so we’re fortunate that we don’t need to wait for the music teacher to join us to rehearse the musical numbers. I thought we could start there,” Ellen offered.
Brodan nodded, but I noted his frown.
“Perhaps,” I offered quietly, “we could choose parts today. See which of the children would like a main part and audition them.”
He didn’t look at me. Instead, he said, as if I hadn’t spoken a word, “I think it would be better if we chose the children’s parts today.” He smiled at the kids. “Raise your hands if you’d like a lead role in the musical.”
Both Ellen and David frowned, their gazes bouncing between me and Brodan.
Several hands shot up, including Lewis’s.
We asked the kids who wanted a lead role to stand up and over to the side. I reluctantly stepped toward Brodan and my colleagues. “We should probably start with the roles of Dorothy, the Wicked Witch, the Tin Man, the Lion, and the Scarecrow.”
Brodan tensed beside me and perused the newly condensed script like I hadn’t spoken.
Ellen’s brows drew together as she noted my lips pinch in frustration and embarrassment. She cleared her throat. “Yes, perhaps we should ask those wishing to play Dorothy to read and sing first?”
Brodan nodded. “Excellent idea.”
I couldn’t meet my colleagues’ gazes.
As David sat down at the piano and Brodan made the children laugh to relax them a bit, Ellen sidled up to me. “Pen mentioned you two have history,” she murmured under her breath.
Pen was a P3 teacher who had been in Lachlan Adair’s class at school. She was also a gossip.
“It’s nothing.”
Ellen sighed heavily. “I’m thinking it’s something. If there’s animosity between you two, you should have said something. This could be a terrible idea.”
“No. The kids love him.” I gestured across the room where he had them laughing at who knows what. “You help him audition the kids. I’ll keep the others quiet.” And stay far, far out of the immature bastard’s way.
BRODAN
* * *
I knew I was being an immature arsehole.
But every time Monroe got near enough for me to smell her perfume, I wanted to bare my teeth like a savage animal. It didn’t matter if she was an inch from me or thirty feet away. I could feel her in the room. Every bloody second.
I’d spotted her as soon as I strolled into the gym.
She wore a dark green dress with long sleeves and a high neck. The hem came to just above her knees to reveal dark tights on her short but great fucking legs. The green made her hair look like copper as it spilled down her back in natural waves.
None of my primary school teachers had looked like Monroe Sinclair. Christ, she was thirty-seven and still looked like she’d barely graduated from uni. I knew women in my line of work who would kill for Monroe’s perpetual youth. Looking at her made holding back the memories difficult, so I’d stopped.
In fact, I was adamantly not acknowledging her.
Like a prick.
I didn’t know how else to get through this.
Forcing myself to focus on the kids, I zeroed in on my nephew. I’d noted he’d grabbed a girl’s hand to come join him to audition. She was a cute wee thing with blond pigtails and big blue eyes. Callie was her name, and she had an American accent. It had shocked me and Thane that Lewis wanted to audition for the musical since he was a bit of an introvert compared to his sister.
But Lewis further surprised me by stepping forward with determination to audition for the role of the Scarecrow. My shock was even greater to discover that my nephew was a wee comic. He delivered the lines with humorous nervousness and his clumsy physicality had me laughing out loud. I guessed acting was in the genes, after all.
His American friend, Callie, was clearly shy and probably coerced by Lewis to audition for Dorothy, but she delivered the lines with a cuteness I knew the audience would find adorable. After we’d had all the kids run lines, we asked them to sing any song they wanted a cappella.
Lewis didn’t have a fantastic singing voice, but he didn’t need one. Callie, however, had a soft but sweet voice that, with a bit of work on projection, would do nicely for Dorothy.
As soon as we stopped to discuss quietly, however, my attention drew away from Ellen and David to Monroe. The back of my neck tingled, and I wondered if she was watching me. If she was as hyper fucking aware of me as I was of her.
Giving in, I casually turned to peruse the kids and let my gaze linger on Monroe.
She wasn’t looking at me. She kneeled down by a small girl, listening attentively to whatever she was saying. Her expression was soft and kind as she nodded and then gave the girl a reassuring smile.
I watched her take the girl’s hand, and they stood together. My heart thudded in my chest as Monroe walked across the room, murmuring with the child as she gripped her hand. She said something to Ellen, who nodded, and then I watched as Monroe led her from the room.
My chest ached like I’d been struck.
A throat cleared, and I turned to find Ellen staring at me in curiosity. She’d caught me watching Monroe.
Damn it.
This was torture.
And Walker Ironside would pay for putting me in this position.
13
Monroe
I bumped into Arrochar Adair Galbraith in Golspie, of all places.
After spending all of Friday morning with Brodan, I’d been desperate to flee Ardnoch and everything it represented. So I drove up the coast Saturday morning and walked around the quaint neighboring town of Golspie. I considered driving just a bit farther out to spend the morning at Dunrobin Castle because I hadn’t been there in years, but I’d situated myself in a coffee shop just off Main Street and was enjoying my latest book too much to leave. The proprietor happily kept my coffee filled, not caring if I’d glued my arse to one of her small bistro chairs.
It was peace.
A lovely distraction.
So imagine my surprise when the bell tinkled above the door and in came Arrochar, pushing a pram. My pulse raced as our eyes connected. I didn’t know how Arro would respond to my being home. In fact, it was a miracle we hadn’t bumped into each other yet. Now here we were, in another village, staring at one another.
To my shock, Arro’s face split into a beautiful smile. “Roe!”
My eyebrows sprung upward. “Arro.”
She pushed the pram toward my table, and my eyes dropped as I heard a baby making gurgling noises from within. Arro’s wee girl. My goodness. Sometimes it felt like time hadn’t passed, and then I was reminded that it absolutely had. Arro pushed the pram into the corner by my table, and I stood to greet her as she wrapped her arms around me. The smell of her perfume enveloped me, and tears sprung to my eyes as she squeezed me hard.
“I’ve missed you,” she said, sounding a little hoarse.
I cleared my throat. “You too,” I whispered.
When she pulled back, she didn’t release me. Arro stared down at me, studying my face as I studied hers. She hadn’t changed much. In fact, she glowed, her blond hair lighter than it used to be, her eyes that same striking pale blue as Brodan’s. Happiness radiated from her, and I was glad. When I’d first discovered she was married to her sister-in-law’s father, I didn’t know what to make of it. Then I saw Mackennon Galbraith in the village one day, and I could certainly see the attraction. He’d had Robyn very young, so the age gap between him and Arro didn’t seem so drastic in reality. Especially considering Arro was a mature woman in her thirties.
Still, what a complicated family tree the Adairs were growing.
“I can’t believe we bumped into each other here. Since I heard you were back, I have been waiting to see you. I actually called the school for your number, but they wouldn’t give it to me.”
Shocked by this revelation, I had to force back fresh tears. I was so sure Arro was mad at me. But no. “They wouldn’t? I’m sorry.” I blushed with frustration at myself. “I … I just assumed you didn’t want to hear from me. That’s why I never …”
Arro gave my arms another squeeze and stepped back. “It’s all water under the bridge. Do you mind if Skye and I join you?”
It was on the tip of my tongue to reject her, just as I’d rejected Arran the numerous times he’d tried to engage in friendship. But after the way Brodan had treated me in rehearsal—in fact, since that first day in Flora’s—I was done acting like I had done something wrong. I was sick and tired of hosting all the blame for the deterioration of our friendship. Why should I make myself miserable for someone who didn’t exist anymore? Brodan wasn’t the kind, protective boy of my childhood.
He was a complete and total wanker.
My attention moved to the pram, to the adorable baby girl inside staring up at her mum. “Oh, Arro, she’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. Let’s settle in, and you can hold her if you’d like.”
An ache tore through my chest. “I’d like that.”
“Can you watch her while I order a coffee?”
“Of course.”
“Do you want anything?”
“I’m good.” I was reeling. This felt surreal on so many levels.
As Arro waited to be served, I leaned over the pram. “Hullo, Skye,” I greeted the baby softly.
Her blue eyes moved to me and she raised her fists, giving me a smile in return.
The pain of longing intensified.
I thought I’d have children, plural, by now. Maybe even one already in high school.
Life didn’t turn out how I’d expected. I wondered if it did for anyone.
When Arro returned to her seat, I asked, “What brings you to Golspie?”
“They needed Mac at the estate for some security system update today.” She shrugged before taking a quick sip of coffee. “And honestly, I just wanted to have a gander with Skye without bumping into someone every five seconds.” Realizing how that sounded, she placed a hand over mine. “Not you. This is different. I’m so glad we bumped into each other.”
“No, I get it. Why do you think I’m here?”
Arro chuckled and then shook her head as she held my gaze. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“Neither have you.”
“You’re too kind.” She smoothed a hand over Skye’s blanket. “I’ve changed since this wee drop of stardust fell into my life. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep since, for a start.”
“Well, you would never know. You look beautiful.”
Arro gave me a soft smile. “Forever kind, as always, Roe. Goodness, I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to see you.” Her smile dropped. “Though Arran tells me you’re staying in Gordon’s caravan. That won’t do, Monroe. Not over the winter. One reason I wanted to bump into you was to offer you Mac’s cottage on Castle Street. We’ve been renting it as a holiday let, so there’s no current tenant. We can rent it to you for the same as whatever Gordon’s renting the caravan.”
Which would be a crazy discount. I flushed at her generosity and the fact that I required it. Pride made me shake my head. “I appreciate that, but I’m fine, really.”
She opened her mouth as if to argue, so I hurried to ask, “May I hold Skye?”
A minute later, I had a warm, sweet-smelling baby in my arms. “How old is she now?” I asked as she made little baby sounds and blew raspberries at me.
“Six weeks, nearly seven. I don’t know where the time has gone.” Arro stared adoringly at her daughter. “Other than waking up through the night, she’s so good. So chilled out.”
“She must get that from you.” I always remembered Arro being laid back.
“And Mac. He doesn’t look it, but he’s very chill.”
“Are you happy?” I blurted out.
Arro met my gaze and answered sincerely, “I wish everyone could have what I have. The world would be better for it.”
Emotion stung my eyes. “I’m glad for you, Arro.”
Concern wrinkled her brow. “Are you happy, Roe?”
I knew what she was thinking. She was one of the few people who’d known my simple dreams of the future. Teaching, marriage, babies.
At least I had one of those.
“I will be,” I answered, hoping it was true.
BRODAN
* * *
Never google yourself. Rule number one.
I broke the rule.
Now, as you’d imagine, what I found pissed me off.
Not at the rumors swirling about my whereabouts, my retirement, “the end of Brodan Adair” as we know it, but at some lying scummy social media influencer called Harriet Blume. She had five million followers, and while I wasn’t the focus of all her gossip and lies, she certainly seemed taken with me. She’d wracked up millions of views on a video of me with a pregnant Robyn that she’d taken while in Ardnoch. Blume had insinuated nothing. She’d let the video do the work.
People thought I’d gone home because I’d gotten someone pregnant. Thankfully, folk who paid attention had rushed to the comments to fact-check and tell others that Robyn was my sister-in-law. But it was obvious the brat had posted this for views.
I tried not to let it get to me.
Blume was no longer in Ardnoch. She could post nonsense about me and other celebrities, and it should not bother me one whit.
A text message dropped onto the screen, so I tapped out of the platform, vowing to delete the apps, and opened the message.
It was from Rachel Wilde, an actor I’d made my first big movie with. We’d slept together during the making of the movie and whenever she wasn’t in a relationship. According to rumor, she’d just broken off her engagement to some nephew of a billionaire businessman.
Apparently, it was true.
In Paris in December for a week. Could use some company.
I would quite like to get laid sometime soon with no complicated strings.
To my indignation, an image of Roe’s face flashed across my mind.
Strings? She was a fucking museum of strings.
Before I could answer, a knock sounded on my door. Perhaps it was housekeeping. “Come in.”
