Page 5 of Fireworks
Cam shut Eiley up with a firm show of her hand. “—will have a wonderful time with Uncle Fraser this weekend, so don’t even start. It’s one night, and we’re all going to have fun.” She said it so sternly that it might have been more of a threat than a promise, causing Eiley to shrink in her seat.
She didn’t like it. It wasn’t like the kids hadn’t stayed with Fraser before, and she knew they would have a blast with him and his beloved border collie, Bernard … but should she be palming them off so she could spend a weekend getting pampered? Fraser and Mum already babysat so often. Now that Finlay was out of the picture, she was their only present parent. And she already felt like a terrible one for sitting here, nursing a drink, when she should have been tucking them into bed.
“Okay, I’m extremely excited. Do they do mani-pedis? The lack of salons in Belbarrow is becoming a problem.” Harper inspected her nails, which were nothing less than perfect, painted a rich burgundy to match the background of her book cover as well as her pleated dress. Eiley had already taken another fifteen or so pictures by the bridge with her holding her author copy, Harper insisting that they make the most of golden hour. She wondered what it must be like to have that kind of confidence. Eiley hadn’t touched her Instagram account in years, always looking pale and anxious, never having the time to care about makeup or colour-coordinated outfits. Her camera roll was filled with blurred pictures of thefloor from when Sky got hold of her phone, or else images of the three of them, usually with none of them looking the right way at the right time, if their eyes were open at all.
“Ew. Feet.” Sorcha stood with their empty glasses. “Does anyone want another round?”
“I’ll join you.” Andy hopped up, equally as eager to leave the table.
A chorus of ‘Ayes’ and ‘Yes, please!’ rang out, and Eiley nodded in what she hoped looked like enthusiastic agreement. No pyjamas yet, then. Would she really enjoy going away if she could barely handle an evening in a pub that was only around the corner from the flat? She at least requested a lemonade this time, afraid another glass of wine might leave her with a headache come tomorrow.
“Y’know, why don’t you two just go to this spa weekend?” she asked gently, leaning in to be heard over the cheers of the tipsy lads across from them. “I feel like I’m still playing catch-up with the new flat and the new job. I haven’t even unpacked properly …”
Cam’s steely glare was enough to unravel the rest of her sentence.
Harper placed a gentle hand over Eiley’s, lips pouting with much more sympathy. “You deserve the break, too. When was the last time you even did something just for you?”
Eiley gave a half-hearted shrug. She didn’t know the answer; didn’t even know where to start searching for it. But that was her job, wasn’t it? That’s what mums were supposed to be like. Even if she felt like she was failing at it every time she forgot the name of Brook’s latest school play, or Sky had ameltdown over something they could have avoided, or Saff refused to eat her lunch.
Of course, she couldn’t say any of that, because this wasn’t about her. It was about Harper, who truly did deserve a wonderful getaway to celebrate her publication. “Well, the bookshop is for me, isn’t it?”
A scoff, this time from Fraser, who had straightened up in annoyance. Not at her, she knew, butforher. “A job isn’t a treat, Eiley, even if you enjoy it. C’mon. Give it a chance. You’ll have fun with Harp and Cam.”
“Think of all the time you’ll have to read,” Cam urged. “They might even have an old library or something there.”
That caught Eiley’s attention. She could usually only read once the kids were in bed. Having a whole weekend …
“We want you to come. This book wouldn’t exist without my best beta reader.” Harper’s lower lip jutted in plea now, hands clasping together. “Please?”
Eiley couldn’t say no, her chest filling with warmth at the thought that, despite her low moods and general quietness, they still wanted to spend the weekend with her.Because they feel bad for you, a bitter voice in the back of her mind said – but it didn’t belong to her. Its rasp was all Finlay’s, and she had learned not to listen to it anymore.
“Okay,” she agreed, reluctance still fringing the word. “Maybe you’re right. We all need it.”
“Fuck yeah, we do,” Cam said, blue eyes gleaming with a brightness Eiley hadn’t seen for a while. “I’m going to get absolutely hammered off cocktails, by the way. It’s gonna be—”
“Disgusting,” Sorcha interrupted as they returned with a tray of drinks, setting it down with a clumsy bang before twisting to glare in the general direction of the bar. “That bloke just tried to flirt with me.Me!” She circled a finger around her round face, cheeks rosy and inky brown eyes disturbed. “What about this face says I want to snog a man?”
“Who, Graeme?” Fraser frowned at the bar between Sorcha and Andy, who was suppressing laughter behind their hands.
Eiley grimaced, hoping not. The pub’s landlord was almost sixty-five and married, and they’d all known him since they were bairns dancing around the sticky wooden floor while Mum socialised with friends on a Saturday afternoon. Sorcha hadn’t been included, having grown up in Glasgow, but she’d come in here often enough that most people knew she and Cam were married, not ‘friends’, as was occasionally implied by less observant, or open-minded, tourists.
“Nope, not Graeme, thank fuck!” Andy shook out their knotted mullet, throwing themselves down on the nearest chair. Eiley squeezed herself even further against the unpleasantly bumpy wall to make more room. “That beefcake drinking on his own like a wee saddo!”
They all followed Andy’s point, and Eiley froze. She knew those shoulders. She’d been staring at those shoulders an unhealthy amount.
Coffee Giant. Though he had his back turned, she looked away quickly, face burning. Of course, Harper was too observant not to remember him, and gasped loudly. “It’s that lad you fancy, Eiley!”
Every pair of eyes turned to her, and she wished she could hide under the table. “I don’t fancy him. I don’t even know him!”
“And you don’t want to,” Fraser grumbled. “See? He’s not Hercules after all.”
“Just a man with a poorly functioning gaydar!” Cam cupped her hands around her mouth to shout at his back, “Oi! Try it on with my wife again and there’ll be trouble. I don’t care if you’re built like a brick shithouse, sir!”
Sorcha shushed her. Cam might have been yelling to entertain her, but there was enough of an edge of truth to her words.
“What, exactly, did he say to you?” Harper questioned.
“He asked me if I was having a good day.A good day!” said Sorcha. “Inthiseconomy?”
