Here With Me (Adair Family 1)

I heard the murmur of a voice down the line.

“Thank you.” Mac hung up and then sat on the edge of his desk.

Perhaps it was finally being alone with him, but when our eyes locked, a crushing ache in my chest overwhelmed me. Silence fell between us. It lasted agonizing minutes.

At least it seemed to.

“So”—Mac finally broke the painful tension—“I gather you came to visit for a specific reason?”

Everything that had percolated in my mind for months since my therapist suggested I visit Mac for closure at once seemed too much. If I told this man, this near stranger, everything I felt, I’d make myself vulnerable to someone who’d already hurt me beyond bearing. That hadn’t sunk in until I looked into his eyes and felt the pain of longing for a father I barely knew.

Mac waited patiently for me to speak. The words caught in my throat, choking me.

Concern furrowed his brows. “Robyn, has something happened?”

“I … uh … I quit my job.”

“You said. Is there a reason?”

Wrenching my gaze from his, I stared unseeingly at his bookshelf. “Decided it wasn’t for me, I guess.” Frustrated with myself for failing to be honest, I ground my teeth.

“Is that the only reason?” he pressed.

“Yeah,” I lied and glanced back at him. “I started a photography business. Mostly the usual kind of work. But I started selling shots of Boston through my Instagram, and they’re doing well. I’ve always wanted to see Scotland, since I’m part Scottish, and thought photos from here might be a big hit … And, well, I thought I should stop in and see you since you gave me the Scottish part.”

His lips twitched. “I’m glad you did come to see me. And congratulations on your new business.” His eyes brightened. “I gave you your first camera. Do you remember?”

Stupid tears burned in my throat and I abruptly stood. “You know what, I’m not ready to do this after all—”

“Robyn—” Mac stood too.

“I’m going to go.”

His expression fell. “Please stay. Have a coffee with me.”

I couldn’t. I was seconds from bursting into tears. It was mortifying and seemed to come out of nowhere. “Later. I need to go.”

Hurrying toward the door, I wrenched it open and marched out, narrowly missing the young man in a uniform similar to Wakefield’s, holding a tea tray with our coffee on it. “Sorry.” I rounded him, determined to get away from Mac.

“Christ!” Mac bit out. “Stephen, sorry. Please put the tray in my office.” And then he fell into step with me as I followed the narrow corridor toward the reception hall.

“Please stay and talk,” he pleaded.

“Not now, okay.”

“But you’re staying here? I will see you again?”

I nodded. Yeah, I wasn’t ready to leave quite yet. I just needed to regroup. Obviously seeing him again after so long an absence affected me more than I’d anticipated. “I’m staying in Ardnoch. At the Gloaming.”

“Aye, good.”

We fell into silence again.

“Do you know what the gloaming means?” Mac asked.

“Yeah. Gordon, the owner, explained it means twilight.”

“Of course.” Mac grinned. “I’m sure Gordon explains it to everyone.”

“You know him?”

“It’s a wee place. Everybody knows everybody.”

“Right.” I considered that as Mac held the main door open for me. “Does that make it easier or harder to keep this place private for members?”

“Believe it or not, the villagers aren’t interested in the comings and goings of the rich and famous. The members go in and out of the village without any worry about finding photos of themselves online afterward—unless the paparazzi are around during the summer. The people here understand the members will return and spend money in a place that affords them privacy and a sense of normality. You’ll find more gossip among the villagers about each other than you’ll ever find about the club and its members.”

“I guess that makes sense.” My rental sat in the drive where I’d left it. Feeling more than a little embarrassed by my abrupt departure, I couldn’t look at Mac. “Sorry about the drama. I just …” I shrugged, unable to finish my sentence.

“Mr. Galbraith!”

Mac turned as I looked beyond his shoulder to see a man dressed much the same as Jock hurrying toward us. “What is it?”

“Sir, you’re needed urgently at the delivery entrance.” His eyes widened ever so slightly, as if trying to communicate a message.

A message my father seemed to understand. He cursed under his breath and said to me, “I have to go. But perhaps we could do dinner at the Gloaming tonight?”

So soon?

“Um … how about tomorrow night?”

He nodded and lifted a hand as if to touch me but dropped it quickly. “I’ll come by around seven.”

I’d barely agreed before he hurried across the gravel after his employee.

Once he’d disappeared inside the castle, I looked up at its crenellated roofline and sighed. Disappointment filled me. What had I expected in coming here? A miraculous sense of connection? That I’d be able to unload all my hurt feelings of rejection in the hopes of what? Filling this emptiness inside me?