Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
As much as I appreciated my daughter’s loyalty, I couldn’t get the look on Taran’s face yesterday out of my mind. It was also that look, however, that gave me hope. Because to still be that devastated by our breakup meant once upon a time, Taran Macbeth had loved me beyond imagining.
That kind of love never faded.
I knew.
Because it was how I felt about her.
“I’ll see you next weekend, flower. I love you.” I said those words every time we spoke now. They were getting easier to voice out loud.
“I love you too, Dad. See you soon.”
After we disconnected, I pulled up Taran’s number and sent her a text.
Hope you’re okay. Got the doorbell camera. I’ll be around tomorrow to install it. When suits?
I waited, my pulse racing, like I was a teenager and not a grown man.
Three little dots started bouncing underneath my text and I tensed with anticipation.
Thanks. About 10 a.m.? That’s when I’m on break from the store.
A smile curled my mouth at her easy acquiescence. I took it as a good sign.
I’ll be there at 10.
I wanted to tell her I couldn’t stop thinking about her, but I didn’t want to push.
She sent me a thumbs-up emoji and I snorted. The woman was stubbornly trying to keep me at a distance even as she kept the door open for me. It was obvious Taran was a mess of confusion, and I wasn’t going to hold her mixed signals against her.
Well, that wasn’t quite true. I was certainly going to use those mixed signals against her … but only to produce the results we both needed.
Taran wasn’t sure of me.
But I was.
I knew that if Taran Macbeth let me love her again, I would spend the rest of my life trying to make her the happiest woman who ever lived.
27. Taran
It was cowardly to send London in my stead to meet Quinn at the house so he could install the camera doorbell. I knew it. He knew it. Quinn sent me a text telling me he’d left the instructions with London because I needed to install the app on my phone to get it properly working. I could practically hear the annoyance in his text.
Three times that week, when I saw him striding down Main Street toward the store, I’d hurriedly whispered to Ewan or Paisley to tell him I wasn’t there while I hid and listened to my staff lie to Quinn.
I was such a mess after our moment on the beach. I could feel the walls I’d built up over years crumbling, and I was petrified.
I wished I were braver.
Especially as Quinn promised to tell me about his suspicions regarding my break-in, Cammie’s vandalized car, and our mystery road rage assailant. The police, unfortunately, had no information and were putting it down to drunk driving. As for Cammie’s vandalism, they’d come up with nothing and for now thought it might just be a sick prank.
When I received a phone call from a post office on Oban explaining a package had arrived addressed to me and that they were unable to send it across on the ferry due to the estimated value and some insurance issues, it was a welcome distraction. The staff member at the post office told me the item had been sent by a large online retailer, and that it was an electrical device worth over a thousand pounds. I had no idea what the item was or who had sent it, but after double-checking caller ID to confirm it was the post office in Oban, I decided to take my car onto the ferry first thing Saturday morning to get to the post office before it closed for the weekend.
I made sure I had everything I needed for the ferry crossing since we weren’t allowed back to our vehicles until we’d docked.
The morning ferry was always particularly busy with Glenvulin residents journeying to the mainland for work, but it was especially busy on a Saturday. I smiled hello to locals who recognized me, and they weren’t surprised I didn’t stop to chat. That was the one good thing about returning to a community who had helped raise you. Those who had been there knew I was always a quiet person, not unfriendly, but not extroverted, and they were always eager to gossip to newer residents about everyone. I could just imagine them saying, “Och, that’s just Taran. She means nothing by it. Always been a bit shy, that one.” I could imagine it because I’d literally overheard Mrs. Macdonald tell one of the bakery owners that while they waited in line for coffee and I stacked bookshelves behind them.
Small flask of coffee in hand, I wandered through the boat, eyes on the phone in my other hand as I sipped. I only looked up once I reached the railings at the stern. Staring back toward Leth Sholas and its colorful buildings, how they added a spot of brightness to a dull day, I hoped no one approached me.