Page 89 of Blindsided
The pained look on his face guts me because I know that it’s not physical pain he’s feeling, but emotional. “What are you talking about?” I ask, feeling my brows furrow in confusion.
He heaves a heavy sigh and stares up at the ceiling, blinking several times slowly before replying, “Ever since your gran died, I haven’t stopped thinking about all the things I should have done with her. I should have bought her more flowers. Showered her with wee presents, shown her my love more. Hell, I should have sat my arse on that sofa and watched her favourite programs on the telly instead of watching football all the damn time.”
Suddenly, memories of Freya’s face when I bought her those carnations flash through my mind. The wee smile she gave me when she opened her kitty coffee mug. The unexpected way she cried when we delivered those rescue kittens. My heart begins to pound in my chest when I recall the hours upon hours we spent on her sofa talking about nothing and watching that ridiculous show,Heartland.
I glance down to see my hands are now clenched into fists, my palms slick with sweat as I uncurl my fingers and dry them off on my jeans, my mind reeling over everything I walked away from.
Grandad’s shaky exhale pulls my attention to him as he rubs the pads of his fingers along his forehead. “When I look back on my time with your gran, I wish I would have done a lot more of nothing with her. I wish I would have been content to be fat and happy with her.” He lowers his hand and looks at me seriously. “It’s a very special thing when you can find a lass that you can be fat and happy with.”
His colourful words make me smile. “But you made Gran happy. Anyone could see that.”
“Aye, I know. But as my time comes to an end, I can tell you with absolute certainty that football is the last thing on my mind.” He looks at me, his eyes wide and pleading as tears form in the depths of them. “I’ve steered you wrong there, Macky. Since you were wee, I’ve been telling you to stay away from a woman because she could be a distraction. But I never meant for you to stay away fromthewoman.”
My mind spins as it tries to play catch up with everything he said. Is he talking about Freya? Shaking my head in disbelief, I swallow, trying to wet my very dry tongue when I ask, “What do you meanthewoman?”
He tries to turn slightly so he can see me better, and the movement looks like it hurts him. He reaches out to squeeze my wrist as he replies, “The woman who makes you want to give it all up. Like when your dad met your mum.”
I sit back in my chair, gripping the back of my neck as I process what he’s saying. “You always told me that Dad threw his career away when he met Mum. You said he walked away from a major opportunity.”
Grandad blinks slowly, his lips pursed in disappointment. “Aye, he did, but do you think he regrets it for a second?” he asks, his eyes flaring with mischief.
I huff out a small laugh. “I should hope not, considering I’m the reason he quit.”
Grandad smiles beneath his mustache. “Exactly. He met his lassie at eighteen. And you’ve met yours now…in Red.”
I blink rapidly at the words that just came out of his mouth and reply, “Grandad, Freya and I aren’t together. We’re not even speaking anymore. I’m…I’m not in love with her.”
“Are you truly this thick-headed?” He shakes his head, his hand closing into a fist as he gently taps the side of the bedrail. “Macky, I love you, boy. God, do I love you. But it amazes me that you are so great at seeing the big picture on the pitch, but you cannot see it when it comes to your own life.” He pauses, his eyes taking on a tender look of sympathy before he whispers, “You’re heartbroken, lad.”
Suddenly, he begins retching, and I stand to help sit him up, propping an extra pillow beneath him before handing him a drink of his water. He takes a small sip and several deep breaths for a moment before grabbing my arm and refusing to let me sit back down. “I saw the way you looked at her at the Highland Games and when she showed up at your match. You’re in love with that girl if ever I’ve seen love.”
My face bends at his words. “You can’t know that, Grandad. I’ve never even been in love.”
“Of course you’re in love with her, you wee idiot!” he fires back, his voice gruff and unapologetic. “You’ve been playing like shite here in Glasgow, not because you’re at a new club or because I’m dying. You’re miserable because you don’t have that bonnie freckle-faced lass in your life to keep your head on straight. I’ve seen the loss of her in your eyes these last couple of months, and it guts me to the bones.”
He reaches out and presses his cool palm to my hot cheek. “I knew you loved her the moment you introduced me to her, and every moment after, when you would find ways to bring her name up in conversation. I thought you’d been happy your whole life out on that football pitch. But I was wrong. I’ve never seen you happier than when you’re looking at her. I’m mighty grateful I lived long enough to see that.”
A painful knot forms in my throat over the tender look in his teary eyes. I’ve lived my whole life to make my grandad happy, but this is the first time I’ve realised he’s lived his whole life to make me happy. What a pair we make.
And is he right? Could I really be in love with Freya? I know I miss her, but is that love? My voice is resigned when I whisper, “I’ve hurt her, Grandad. I’ve hurt her badly. Said things I can’t take back.”
“I’m not surprised,” he says, slapping my cheek with a fond smile before grabbing my shoulder. “You’re a stubborn Scot, just like me.” His face grows serious again. “But it’s not words that matter in the end. It’s actions. She’s your big picture, Macky. Don’t let her out of your sight, or I promise, you’ll live to regret it.”
“Can you help me take a full-body photo of myself?” I ask Allie the minute she walks upstairs into the loft area of my office at Kindred Spirits. This space once housed men’s and women’s clothing at various stages in the alteration process and is now chock-full of dog and cat clothing samples.
“The samples are in from China?” Allie squeals, rushing over to the sewing table and picking up a little plus-sized, cat-shaped highlander kilt. “Shut up! This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I bite my lip as I glance at the tartan longingly. I almost didn’t pattern that design because it hurt too much. But I had scraps from Mac’s fabric, and before I knew it, I was cutting the plaid and dying to see Hercules in it.
Ignoring the ache in my chest, I walk over and sift through the pieces with her. “The factory didn’t do too bad with my patterns, did they?” I pick up a green tutu dress sample made for a large dog and add, “There are a few that I couldn’t fit on Hercules last night, so I have to go through those few and figure out where we went wrong.”
Allie’s wide blue eyes turn to me. “Did you get some videos, I hope?”
I smile and nod. “Yes, Hercules just laid there like a corpse. It was darling.”
Allie claps her hands excitedly. “Great. Hold onto those until we have purchase links.”
“I know, I know,” I reply and then drop the dog outfit onto the table. I grab Allie’s arm to direct her focus back to me. “As I was saying, I need you to take a full-body shot of me. We can go out back and take it in the alley behind the shop.”
