And there it was. I didn’t want my family to fall in love with Becca, because they would. It was hard not to. I was struggling with it myself. “Becca is very busy. She has a bakery that she runs with her sister.”
“Oh, I know all about her. I looked her up. The sister of the team’s owner. So scandalous. A whirlwind romance. How appropriate. Just like your father and me.”
I bristled. We were nothing like my father and her. I didn’t want to be anything like him. “Mum, I’m sorry. With everything going on with granddad, I just didn’t think it was the right time to tell you.”
“Are you off your head? Happy news is exactly what he needs. I’ve already told them we’ll be celebrating your marriage when you visit next week.”
“Mum, she’s not coming.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course she’s coming. She’s your new bride after all.”
“I just don’t think she can get the time off work.”
“The time off work. Are you not a professional athlete, son? Surely she can afford to take some time off work to come meet her new family. To give your grandfather one last happy memory before he departs from this world. That poor man has been through so much. And he loves you so much.”
An arrow straight through my heart couldn’t have hurt more. She knew exactly what she was doing.
“I’ll talk to her. See if we can make it work.”
“Good. Your room is all ready for you. And I hope you do make it work because I’ve already ordered the flowers.”
“The flowers?”
“Yes. For your wedding party.”
“Wedding party.”
“Of course. Did you think we wouldn’t have a ceilidh to celebrate?”
Bloody hell.
She continued. “Be sure to phone me as soon as you know. I’ll let my new daughter-in-law in on the secret that her new mum won’t take no for an answer.”
“Hell’s bells,” I grumbled after she hung up. I didn’t know what I was thinking, trying to hide it. I was the source of big news in the small town where I grew up. It was the sort of place where people still spoke Gaelic. And threw ceilidhs and festivals and had the Highland Games. No one made it big in our town. Until me.
“What put that look on your face?” Becca asked as she came in the kitchen door and made a beeline straight for the pot of coffee on the counter.
She had a soft dusting of either flour or powdered sugar across the bridge of her nose. I couldn’t help myself; I reached out and brushed it off.
“I just spoke to my mum.”
Immediately she set down her cup, even though she had barely brought it to her lips. The look of worry on her face tightened something inside my chest.
“Oh no. Is it your grandfather?”
“In a manner of speaking. It’s all right, he’s fine. Well, as fine as he could be, but he’s still holding on.”
“Okay, so why do you look like your world’s about to end?”
“It’s not, it’s just... I may have made a bit of a misstep with this marriage.”
Her brows furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“Our arrangement is more complicated than I took into account.”
“Why?”
“Everyone in my town knows. And my mum thinks it’s real.”