Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“There isn’t a selfish bone in your body, lass,” Dad insisted. “I’m so proud of who you are. I’m so fucking proud that the world gets to see that you are a prime example of the fact that we are not defined by where or who we come from. We are who we choose to be and you, sweetheart, have always been extraordinary. One day, I hope you finally see that too.”
Movement at my other side drew both our gazes to Baird who was wiping his thumb across his eyes. He was completely unabashed by this show of emotion as I shared a watery smile with my fiancé.
I loved him so much.
“I’ve decided I like him,” Dad said quietly.
Baird sniffled and replied gruffly, “Thank fuck for that because you’re stuck with me.”
At that I half giggled, half sobbed, falling against him even as I held my dad’s hand.
My gaze met Grace’s tender one from across the room, and despite the stress, despite the conversations that still needed to be had, I’d never felt so completely loved in my entire life.
CHAPTER FORTY
MAIA
Our next stop was Aunt Shannon’s studio.
My aunt and her husband Cole were two of the most artistic people I knew, and that was saying something since a lot of folks in our extended family had very creative jobs. Uncle Cole was co-owner of one of the most renowned tattoo studios in Scotland, INKarnate, and people came from all over to have their tattoos designed by him. Aunt Shannon was a painter, and after she had the youngest of their three children, she’d transitioned to wallpaper design and was doing amazingly well.
She rented a studio and store near Dean Village, and we found her there. Baird wanted to give us privacy, so he stayed in the store with Aunt Shannon’s sales assistant, Meg, and I followed Shannon into the privacy of her studio.
As soon as we were alone, I blurted out a loud, broken apology.
Aunt Shannon bridged the distance between us, folding her arms around me. The height difference meant I had to bend down to hug her, but I did so, almost afraid to let go.
“We’re okay, we’re okay.” Aunt Shannon rubbed my back. “It’s okay, sweetie.”
When she released me, I bit my lip to stop tears. I was so tired of crying, but more than that, I didn’t want her comforting me when I was the one who should be comforting her.
“There aren’t enough apologies in the world. I can’t believe that I put you in this position.”
Aunt Shannon tucked a long wavy lock of red hair behind her ear. “You didn’t put me in this position. Some arsehole at a tabloid newspaper did.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “Maia, you know things are strained between me and my parents and your aunt Amanda.” She referred to her and Dad’s older sister. I wasn’t super close with her, just like I wasn’t super close to my paternal grandparents, but they’d always been kind to me. I knew they hadn’t been kind to Shannon, though. “Even before everything that happened, I felt like the odd one out. Logan was always the favorite. With all of us. My parents and Amanda told me I made bad choices, including with men …” She lowered her gaze. “So, when the abuse from my ex got to the point it did, when he attacked me and I ran to your dad without thinking about the consequences, they were so angry at me.”
I knew this. And to be honest, it had tainted my view of them.
“They blamed me for Logan going to prison. They blamed it on my choices. There was never any support or empathy or kindness toward me for a situation that I realize now was not my fault. And it broke me in ways that can never be fixed.” She reached out to take my hand. “Therefore, I will never blame you for a situation that is not your fault. You will never have anything but my love and support.”
“Aunt Shannon,” I whispered, beyond grateful for her.
“The kids are too young to know what’s being said in the papers. My only social media is my business accounts, and I have someone running those, monitoring them, so I’m not even aware of any discussions that might be had about me. I have no shame or guilt about my past now and neither does your dad, which is what matters to me. So, I don’t want you to be burdened by that, okay? I’m more worried about you than I am about your dad and me, and I know he feels the same way.”
I exhaled shakily, holding back fresh tears. Then I told her everything. The real story. About Becky, Will, the campaign, Baird. All of it. “I’m feeling a million things. Guilt. I can’t help that. Guilt for lying, even though everything turned out true in the end. Guilt for dragging you into this. Hurt that someone I didn’t even know tried to sabotage my life. Resentment at Maryanne for not caring enough, for never having cared enough.”