Only You (Adair Family #5)(19)

I wasn’t particularly proud that I was so fucked in the head I couldn’t see clearly enough to make decisions about my own life. However, I couldn’t deny that as much as it wasn’t admirable that I’d handed the reins over to Walk … the results were worth any wounds to my pride.

It had been a long time since I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

The water of the North Sea was a brooding gray blue today, almost indistinguishable from the livid sky above. It should be raining on a day this sullen. But not a drop fell from the sky as I sat at my desk. I’d moved the piece of furniture to the bay window in my suite on the estate, so I had a view while I wrote.

This morning I’d braced myself against the blustery October winds to take Eredine’s morning mindfulness and yoga class. Walker ordered me to take the classes three times a week. I thought he was doing it to mess with me, but the sessions with Ery helped. Where the gym was a place I poured out my frustrations and worries, and also where I had to be to maintain the physique Hollywood found so desirable, Ery’s classes were different. Yoga stretched me, and so did the mindfulness meditation. My mind had been like a muscle knotted from tension and stress, and the meditation allowed me to stop overthinking everything in my past, present, and future and just think about the moment, to be fully aware of existing in the moment. To my shock, it helped me feel less overwhelmed.

Then Walker found a way for me to be productive. For years, I’d been telling him I wanted to be behind the camera. That I wanted to write the scripts. Writing wasn’t a passion that had always been with me. It snuck up on me over the years. I started reading scripts and then, between takes, I started devouring books. Acting had given me a thirst for storytelling.

So what did Walk order?

For me to sit down in the afternoon and work on a script.

It took days before words actually came. Another surprise: I think I was writing a fucking love story. A tragic one. But one, nonetheless.

My phone vibrated beside my laptop, drawing me out of my thoughts, and I hoped it wasn’t one of the women I counted among my fuck buddies, or my agent, Anders. Now and then, I’d get a text or a call from a woman I had a previous casual thing with, asking for a hookup. While I’d quite like to get laid, the thought of fucking some woman I didn’t really care about left me feeling weirdly (and worryingly) empty.

As for Anders … well, after Lachlan (the high-handed bastard) fired my manager for overworking me, I’d cooled down enough to realize he was right. The manager stayed fired, but I kept my agent. Anders, however, was freaking out about my indefinite vacation from acting and called at least once a week. When I told him about the scriptwriting, it settled him a bit.

Thankfully, my caller wasn’t a fling or Anders. It was Regan. It would be naive of me to ignore the fact that being around my family, celebrating two momentous occasions, hadn’t had an effect on me. There was still a disconnect—I couldn’t bridge years of distance in just a few months. But we were getting there. I’d forgotten how much I needed them to be content within myself.

“Hi, gorgeous.”

“Hey, yourself. I’m just checking you haven’t forgotten about dinner?”

I glanced at the clock on my phone. I still had time. “No, I haven’t. It’s not until six, though, right?”

“Right. And Walker is more than welcome. You two seem to be a package deal these days.”

“Meaning?”

“You remind me of Mac and Lachlan. Anyway, let him know he’s invited.”

“He’s working, but I’ll be there. See you soon.”

“Is Uncle Brodan coming, Mum?” I heard my niece Eilidh in the background.

“He is, but what did Mom say about interrupting people when they’re on the phone?”

“It’s rude.”

I chuckled at Eilidh’s beleaguered reply.

She then yelled, “Tell Uncle Brodan I’m sitting beside him at dinner!”

An ache flared across my chest. “Tell my favorite niece I can’t wait.”

“You can’t say that anymore.” Regan chuckled. “Because now you actually have nieces, plural.”

It was true. Two weeks ago, Robyn gave birth to a wee girl called Vivien Stacey Adair, named for our mother and Robyn’s mum. While visiting Robyn and Vivien in the hospital, Arrochar went into labor. Hers was a little longer and nerve-racking for all, none more so than Mac, but finally they welcomed their daughter and, in a grand tradition of naming people in our family after places in Scotland, they named her Skye Robyn Galbraith.

I was an uncle four times over now.

Eilidh’s desire to spend time with me made me feel great, but it also filled me with guilt that I’d missed her and Lewis’s early childhood.

No more. Not that long ago, I was determined to avoid Ardnoch. Now, after spending only a few months there, I never wanted to leave. The mindfulness, the peace, the time to reflect, had brought me that one clarification. Home was what I’d been missing for years. It was time to stop missing it.

“Well, tell one of my three favorite nieces that I can’t wait to sit beside her at dinner.” I grinned and surveyed the dull afternoon as it darkened toward an early-winter evening.

“I will. See you soon, Uncle Brodan,” Regan teased.