An icy wind swept down Berlin’s Strasse des 17. Juni, and Viola huddled into me, her coat’s fake-fur-lined hood half-concealing her face and the padding obscuring her baby bump. At a discreet distance, her security guard strolled, scanning the other bundled-up passersby for signs of loony fans.
Not that she was likely to be recognised, particularly as her superstar husband, Leo, was at rehearsal and not with us. Either way, it was fun to be touring the city with an entourage and a warm car at our disposal for when my cousin tired.
She used her crutch today, so we were taking it slow.
Battling the elements allowed me to distance my mind from all my worries. To some extent. One aspect never faded—Lochie, and how desperately he’d kissed me before I’d left. How had I walked away?
By the only thing I couldn’t let myself do—hurt him and Isla by pretending I could be all that they needed.
Yet that awful tearing feeling in my chest hadn’t shifted.
“Here.” Viola pointed up to the landmark ahead. “The Brandenburg Gate.”
We’d made it to the gorgeous archway after a morning of exploring and brunch in a café.
“It’s the symbol of reunified Germany,” Viola read from her phone, then gave me a short history lesson.
My mind drifted. Yesterday had been strange. I’d attended my appointment, but after coming out, across the street I’d spotted none other than Jeremy, my friend’s brother. Initially, I’d suspected him of painting my door after I’d rejected him. Wasn’t he meant to be in England? He didn’t look at me, but I’d hurried away, entirely spooked.
Then I’d got on a plane and had been on the go ever since.
I needed the space away to stop me feeling like I was going insane.
The gig industry worked non-stop, with Leo pulled from pillar to post. My paranoia decreased with my role in keeping Viola company, though her ma was joining us later today after finishing up work with her orchestra. I couldn’t hide here forever.
A ringtone sounded. Viola dug in her pockets then examined her phone screen. “It’s Leo.” She took the call, linking her arm through mine as she listened. “Hang on a moment.”
She peered at me. “Mind if we head over to the stadium? Leo worked out a song, and he wants to play it to us.”
“Let’s do it.”
She grinned and stashed the phone.
It was likely that Viola was tired, and I could imagine her devoted husband worrying about her being on her feet for so long. It had crossed my mind, too.
In two minutes, we were in the chauffeur-driven car and on our way to the gigantic arena. We’d attended Leo’s gig in the same place last night, and the sold-out crowd had been wild with rock star fever.
Through security, we found our way into the vast open space, the stage slap bang in the centre.
Leo whooped and leapt from the stage to grab his wife in his arms. He held her chin and kissed her, and I looked away, smiling. He greeted me then drew us with him to the stage where he picked up a guitar.
“New song,” he said into a microphone, the volume much lower than it would be tonight.
We listened, as did many of the crew members milling about.
As always, in Leo’s lyrics, I picked up on phrases I could easily associate with Vi. Leo had been writing songs about her since they were teenagers, long before they became a couple.
Also long before they could realistically know they were in love.
Huh.
I listened carefully to his words.
With an upbeat tune, Leo sang about how every degree of love he felt tore into him. Shredded his insides. Broke his heart and made it new. All in stages until he’d changed so much he could never go back.
Without knowing, Leo’s words described the ache in my chest.
He continued, pressing home my realisation.
My feelings had come on gradually, until the night Lochinvar had gone missing when they became unbearable. Crippled me.
I’d thought it pain at what I couldn’t have, built of regret and unhappiness. But maybe it had been transformational.
Had I been entirely wrong?
Leo finished to a ripple of applause, then started another song, a swoony ballad.
Viola squeezed my fingers then picked her way across the stage, joining her man. I removed myself to a seat in the front row of the audience section and let the music and the events of the past few months wash over me.
To the backdrop of Leo’s romantic tune, I pondered my life.
Fact: I definitely wasn’t asexual. I loved sex with Lochie.
That was an easy assessment to make. Next, on to the feelings thing.
Aye, I had those, too. New, and bright, and all-encompassing. They scared the ever-loving hell out of me.
My natural reaction was to duck the honesty. In all other areas of my life, I demanded it, but I’d avoided strong emotion like the plague.
A person landed in the seat next to mine.
I glanced around, vaguely recognising the huge, muscled man in a black, tight t-shirt as one of Gordain’s staff. A memory popped up of him removing the crazy fan from Leo’s Inverness rehearsal. He’d thrown the woman over his shoulder, supplying me with a neat fantasy to try with Lochie.
“Craig.” He offered a hand. “Are you a friend of Leo’s missus?”
“I’m Cait, and yes, you could say that.” I shook his fingers to be polite.
“Here for long?” he asked. At my answer, he swept a subtle gaze over me, pupils dilating, then proceeded to tell me a story about the tour.
In a practised move, as he spoke, Craig slipped an arm across the back of my seat.
“Want to hang with me backstage after the gig? I’ll get you a pass.”
Amusement bubbled inside me as, for the first time, I was about to turn down an interested man because I had someone else. Not because I wasn’t interested, not because I didn’t do relationships.
Gently, I removed his wayward arm and gave a shrug. “I’m just here to see my family. Sorry, but I need to make a call. Do ye mind?”
Craig gave a rueful smile but lumbered to his feet and wandered away.
With energy flickering inside me, I found my phone and called my father. “Da, this is going to sound random, but I need to ask ye something.”
“Go for it,” he said.
“As far back as I can remember, Aunt Georgia told me I was different because of what my birth mother did, and that I needed to be aware of it so I understood myself.”
Da grumbled, but I pushed on.
“Ye know I’ve never been interested in boyfriends. Georgia said that I had problems depending on people. That the initial broken connection had affected me my entire life and caused so much damage. But what if she was wrong?”
Da burst in, his restraint failing. “Of course she’s wrong. When I first met ye, ye were a month old and so bonnie. We never had any problem bonding. Nor did ye with your ma, brothers, cousins, and everyone else ye care about. Georgia is passing on her grief at losing Kaylee to ye. She relives it every time she sees ye, and the woman is stuck. That reflects on her, not ye.”
“There could be some truth in it, though. I think I’ve been carrying around grief for Kaylee. Not just the fact I never knew her, but pity, too. She lost out on life and on knowing her baby. It’s so terribly sad.”
“It is. She was a bonnie woman. She’d have loved ye hard.”
I adored my father. He said it like it was, without trying to rationalise or minimise the emotion.
My next statement nearly choked me. “I’m pretty sure that grief meant I protected my heart.”
He paused. “I’m not convinced. I just assumed ye needed to find someone special. Is there something ye want to tell me?”
I laughed. “Don’t pretend to be surprised, but I’ve been seeing Lochinvar.”
“Scarlet told me. He suits ye well.”
Warmth spread through my veins. Da always encouraged me to be open with how I found the world, so there was little he didn’t know about me.
“Do ye really think so?”
“He’s hard-working, humble, stubborn, and a great da. Do ye plan to keep him?”
“I…”
“I’ll talk to your uncle about his job,” Da continued. “If Lochinvar’s going to stick around, he cannae remain on a temporary contract. Leave that with me.”
“What if he doesn’t want to stay?” I spluttered.
“Why don’t ye ask him? Ah, your mother wants me. Got to go.”
My father hung up, leaving me reeling.
A message appeared on my screen. My pulse sped.
Lochie: In case my yelling at ye wasn’t clear, I’m obsessed with ye, too. Please come back to me.
Oh God.
Leo’s second song ended, and a stage hand approached him with questions. Viola returned to me, her expression blissful.
“Ye look happy,” she said.
“I am. Or I could be. I’ve been doing some soul-searching.”
“What did ye discover?”
“I think I’m in love with Lochie.”
Viola’s mouth dropped open. “Holy shite. I thought you’d say ye were falling. Come here.” She hugged me, her baby bump between us.
I chuckled, buoyant, though my head still spun from the revelation. Admitting how I felt was only a tiny piece of the puzzle. “I was scared. I still am. He might leave.”
“He might not.”
Excitement fizzed.
Gordain strode to us, his eyebrows joined in a frown and his lips pressed together. “Your da,” he pointed at me, “just told me my management of the rescue service is terrible and the entire crew will quit if I take over again.”
I burst out laughing.
“I take it this is an unsubtle hint for me to extend Lochinvar’s term?”
My mirth sobered. “Is that possible?”
His frown only deepened. “I’ve already considered it. There’ll be more tours, and I cannae commit the time the mountain rescue service needs. I’m naw sure he wanted anything permanent, though, so we havenae discussed it.”
I grabbed my uncle’s hand. “Ask him. Please.”
He tilted his head, assessing me in the same way he did a particularly rowdy crowd. Then he nodded once and took up his phone and placed a call.
“Answerphone,” he said to us, then cleared his throat. “Lochinvar, I need to talk to ye. If you’re willing, I’d like ye to keep the management of the mountain rescue service. Call me back and let’s make it permanent.”
Taking up my own phone, I tapped out a reply to Lochie myself.
Caitriona: I’ll be home tomorrow. We’ll talk then. You were right about everything.
I hugged myself, wading through a mire with one side happiness and the other anxious despair. All I could do now was wait.
