Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“She misses Ardnoch. I know she does. I reckon one day she’ll follow her uncles’ footsteps all the way home,” Dad said gruffly.
Both of my uncles—my dad’s eldest brother Lachlan and younger brother Brodan—had made names for themselves in Hollywood. Uncle Brodan had been an acclaimed actor until he’d returned home to Ardnoch to marry his childhood sweetheart, my aunt Monroe. Uncle Lachlan had returned long before that to turn our family’s ancestral castle and estate into a members-only club for film and TV professionals.
Now he and Uncle Brodan also ran a whisky distillery. With their fame and money and coastal smoky whisky that was actually bloody good, the brand was a success. It had taken a few years, but Ardnoch Whisky was becoming a household name. It was even more popular in Japan than it was here.
“Do you think so?”
“I do.”
“I suppose the allure of Ardnoch is strong,” I said without thinking.
“I can only hope so,” my dad answered. At my silence, he leaned forward. “Lewis.”
His tone forced me to look at him.
“For the longest time after your mother passed away, I was afraid to live for anything but you and Eilidh. When Regan came into our lives, she terrified me. And I pushed her away.”
I frowned because I was seven when Regan first started working as our nanny. To me, it seemed like my parents quickly fell in love, got married, and she became my mum. “I didn’t know that.”
He nodded. “You’ve probably forgotten. But I was unkind to Regan. You even gave me a telling off for pushing her away.”
I didn’t remember that. There were some things about that time I’d never forget, but I didn’t remember that.
“I’m ashamed of how I treated your mum.”
That didn’t seem right at all. My dad treated Mum like she walked on water.
“But fear can do strange things to us. It was only when I realized that I couldn’t live without her that I decided to fight my fears and win her back.”
“What fears?”
“Of being hurt again. Of losing her. She was younger, and I was afraid that one day she’d wake up and want something different.”
“But you loved her enough to fight your fears?”
“I did.” Dad gave me a sympathetic smile. “I think I knew when you were fifteen that what you felt for Callie was deeper than puppy love.”
An emotional sting burned across my chest. “Dad—”
“And it fucking kills me that after all this time, you’re still in pain.” His voice was gruff now. “But, Lewis, you cannot live your life making choices because you’re afraid of that pain.”
His words ricocheted through me, freezing me to the spot.
“You will regret it, son, and I don’t want any of my children to live with regrets.” He cupped my nape, giving it a firm squeeze, and suddenly I was a boy all over again. “If you want to come home, you come home … don’t let anything or anyone stop you. You get me?”
I nodded, too overcome with emotion to speak.
Dad pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Proud of you, Lew.”
“Proud of you,” I forced out.
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
I nodded again as he released me and strode away to say good night to Eilidh. For a moment, I watched my sister and father embrace.
Maybe Dad was right. Maybe I was letting fear stop me from being back with my family.
Turning to stare out at the city again, I contemplated what life in Ardnoch would look like now, if I was remembering it through rose-tinted glasses and I’d miss the hustle and bustle of the city. Or if that longing for a quieter pace of life, for golden beaches and rugged mountains and wild weather, was more than nostalgia.
For years, I’d longed for something beyond Ardnoch, and it seemed impossible and almost cruel that I could miss it as much as I did. Considering it was my desire for something more that had lost me Callie.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and swiped the screen. Tapping the social media icon, I opened the app and searched her name.
Her feed was a collection of photos of her, the baked goods she’d created, France, and the people she’d met there.
One of her latest photos glared up at me. Like the masochist I was, I tapped on it for the hundredth time.
Callie’s beautiful face was wreathed in smiles as she beamed into the camera while he pressed a tender kiss to the corner of her mouth. The caption said: “Another day in Paris with him.” The lips and heart emojis followed.
She’d tagged the Frenchman in a clutter of photos throughout her feed for the past year. His name was Gabriel Dumont. The year before him, there had been Remy. She’d dated that Frenchman for a few months. Both were good-looking bastards, and I hated them with the fire of a thousand suns.