CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BONNIE
Broken heart: One.
Nausea is in full force. What the hell just happened?
I’ve seen Rowan grumpy.
I’ve even seen him angry.
But I’ve never seen him like that.
It was as if a completely different person took over his body and lashed out.
After he stormed back inside, I stood in front of the shed for a few moments until I found enough courage to go back to the cottage, but when I entered, he was locked in his room. His message was loud and clear: he didn’t want me near him. After that, I didn’t waste any time in leaving. I gathered my things and practically ran back to my cottage.
Now, sitting in my unmade bed, I wait for Dakota to get home.
When I was delirious and striding back to the cottage, I sent her a few panicked texts. When I got to my bedroom, a few more. And two minutes ago I tried calling, and after two rings, the phone went to voice mail.
No response.
No best friend when I need her the most.
Anxiety at an all-time high, I try to steady my breathing, knowing I have a lot to get done today.
I can do this. Everything will be okay.
God, I wish Dakota was here.
Shakily, I stand and change my clothes, feeling like I need a fresh start. Once my shoes are on, I stick my phone in the back pocket of my jean shorts and head to the coffee shop, where I find Fergus standing by the door.
Trusty, dependable—
“Ahhhhhh.”
Screaming Fergus.
At the sight of what seems to be my only friend these days, I swallow down a flood of emotions and give him a pat on the head. “Good morning, Fergie. I see you’re clearing the lungs out already. Getting ready to startle some tourists, I hope.”
With a small back kick of his legs, he lifts his nose and clops away.
I’m going to take that as a morning greeting and not as another person screaming at me.
Making quick work of the lock, I let myself into the shop, flip on the lights, and take in the clean, white-walled space. We hung up the inside shutters and the pictures, giving the room a much more homey feeling. I’m still waiting on installing shelves, because we haven’t settled on merchandise. Before we go all in, we want to make sure the baked goods and new coffee choices attract more business.
At least, that was the general consensus. Now I have no idea.
I make my way from table to table, setting the chairs on the floor and putting out the little vases Rowan brought in the other day. I pause, realization dawning on me as I look down at the vase in my hand. He made these. He said he had them lying around. But what he meant was they were lying around his shed.
I look at the bottom of the vase. No signature, no indication that he was the one who made them, and yet they’re pristine. Beautifully shaped, with a red glaze that adds the perfect pop of color the space needs.
I should have asked him where they were from. I should have complimented them more. Then again, he probably wouldn’t have admitted he made them. Is that what he’s been hiding this whole time? The life he wanted to live but never got to?
Just as I set the vase down, the door to the shop opens and Dakota steps inside.
“Jesus, where have you been?” I ask, facing her. “Why didn’t you answer my calls and texts?”
She doesn’t respond. Instead, she crosses her arms over her chest, her stance defensive. I tense up, my gut telling me I’m about to be yelled at—again.
“Do you have something to tell me?”
I sigh. “Listen, Dakota, I really need a friend right now. Can we put whatever I did to make you mad on hold? I think Rowan just broke up with me and—”
“What did you say to Isla?”
So much for putting a pin in whatever I did. Nope, she’s addressing it right now.
“Uh, I’ve said a lot of things to Isla.”
“She told me she really appreciated the walk you guys took yesterday because you told her all about Isabella, and now she knows why I’m acting the way I’m acting.”
Oh, the walk.
“I didn’t say anything bad; I just told her about Isabella and how she was manipulative and vindictive. How you weren’t sure if you knew how to be in a same-sex relationship. How you’ve been confused.”
“Why would you tell her that?” Dakota asks, distress in her voice.
“She asked what Isabella did to you. What was I supposed to say?”
“Nothing. You were supposed to say nothing and then tell her that’s a conversation she should have with me.”
“What does it matter?” I ask, my brow furrowed. “It’s the same information, and clearly you weren’t telling her. It’s something she needed to know. She was worried about you. She said you weren’t clueing her in on anything.”
“Because I wasn’t ready to talk about it!” Dakota yells. “This isn’t easy for me, Bonnie. I’m still self-conscious from my relationship with Isabella, and finding my authentic self has taken a long time, but I’ve made strides. I was just starting to feel like this soul I’ve buried for years is starting to flourish, and then you had to go and do that.”
“Tell her to be patient with you?” I ask. “How is that hurting the situation?”
“You took my story away from me!” she shouts. “That is my story to tell, not yours. Now, instead of her coming to an understanding with me, listening to how I might talk about my past, she heard it from you, and it changes the narrative in her head. Instead of understanding . . . she pities me.”
“What? No.” I shake my head. “She doesn’t pity you.”
“And you don’t fucking know everything,” Dakota says, with such venom that I actually take a step back. I’ve never seen her this angry. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see the way Isla looked at me. You had no right to say anything to her.”
“I was just being a friend.”
“You have no idea how to be a friend.” Her words slap me across the face.
“Excuse me?” Anger sears through me. “I don’t know how to be a friend? You’re the one who’s never around when I need you.”
“Exactly, Bonnie. When you need me. What about when I need you? Have you even asked me how things are with Isla? Asked about the weekend? Have you even remotely thought about how this is my second female relationship ever and wondered if I’m doing okay? Have you listened when I say that some of the things you say to Isla embarrass me? No, because you’re too busy playing coffee shop and throwing yourself at Rowan.”
“I don’t throw myself at him.”
“Okay,” she scoffs, letting out a sarcastic laugh I don’t like at all. “He wanted nothing to do with you, but you kept pressing and pressing—”
“Did he say that to you?” I ask, feeling my stomach drop. “Did he say he wanted nothing to do with me?”
“He told the Murdach twins he wanted to stay as far away from us as possible.”
I bite my bottom lip, tears gathering in my eyes as the emotions of today pile on top of me, as the feeling of not being wanted consumes me. A tear slips down my cheek.
“I didn’t know that,” I say softly, clasping my hands together.
“It’s because you never listen, Bonnie. You’re self-absorbed, which is ironic, since you can’t seem to figure out who you are or what you want to do.”
I glance up, the truth in her words stinging. “You encouraged me to fix things up around here, told me that maybe I could find myself—”
“This is not your life!” Dakota shouts, flinging her arms out. “And you’re making it your life. You came here to reflect, to figure out what you’re good at, but instead you’ve just become so immersed in a project that you lost sight of everything around you and buried yourself in a relationship at the same time. You haven’t found out who you really are.”
“But what if I have? What if this is what I’m good at? Ever think about that? What if this is what I want to do?” I shout back.
“Is it?” she asks.
I open my mouth to answer, but I have nothing.
“Exactly,” she says, as if to prove her point. “You came to Scotland to reconnect with yourself, but you’ve just pushed me away, gotten lost in a man, and focused on someone else’s project without establishing who you actually are.”
Is she right?
Have I gotten lost in something that isn’t me?
I glance around the coffee shop, taking in all the small touches I’ve added, the baked goods I made, the pictures I took, and I can honestly admit . . . pride surges in my chest.
I might have gotten lost in someone else’s project, but this project helped me see exactly who I am.
A hard worker.
Someone who finishes what she starts.
A baker.
A designer.
An idea creator.
A heart for a small community.
A businesswoman.
I might have gotten lost, but on the way, I found myself.
I know I did.
Looking her square in the eyes, I say, “You’re wrong, Dakota. I have found myself. Maybe you’re the one who’s too blind to see it.” I straighten up, feeling a little stronger. “You’ve always treated me like the lesser one in our relationship. The fuckup. And I’m sick of it. If you opened your eyes, you’d see that I’ve grown since we’ve been here. I’ve put in the work, I’ve reflected, and I’ve grown. And along the way, yes, maybe I forgot to ask about your relationship, and I’m sorry about that, but I’ll be damned if I let you step on my growth.”
“I’m not stepping on your growth, Bonnie. I’m trying to help you realize—”
“That I’m not the one with problems anymore?” I ask. “Maybe it’s you who needs to reflect before you start seeing someone else. Maybe you need to figure out exactly who you are before you try jumping into another relationship. If you’re so angry about me talking to Isla about all the trials and tribulations you’ve gone through, then maybe you weren’t ready to start dating in the first place. Don’t blame your insecurities on me.”
“Unreal.” She shakes her head, stepping away. “You know what, maybe you did find yourself, and that’s great, good for you, Bonnie. But I don’t like the new you.”
My teeth grind together. “Why? Because I’m not rolling over, like every other time we have a conversation? Because I’m actually sticking up for myself?”
“Because you’re completely missing the point. Life isn’t always about you. Take off the blinders and realize your actions have consequences.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Tell me this—why do you think Rowan broke up with you?”
My teeth roll over my bottom lip as a wave of embarrassment washes over me, the realization hitting me square in the chest.
“Did you do something he didn’t like?” she presses as tears start to well up again.
“I snooped in his shed,” I answer, so quietly I can barely hear my own voice.
“Sounds about right. You crossed a line and did something he didn’t want you doing. Not everyone is like you—they don’t put their lives out on display. They like to take their time, introduce every part of themselves in due course. But you’re too self-absorbed to think about that. It’s always what you want, when you want it. Well, guess what? That mentality just bit you in the ass.”
She’s turned to walk away when I call out, “Wait, Dakota, please—let’s talk about this.”
She shakes her head. “I’m done talking. I need space.”
And then she takes off, leaving me to crumble to the floor and sob into my hands.
Bonnie: Dakota, please, come back to the cottage so we can talk about this. I don’t like fighting with you.
Bonnie: We don’t do this; we don’t stay mad at each other.
Bonnie: We always work through things. Please tell me we can work through this.
Bonnie: Rowan, I stopped by your place, and you weren’t there (which I’m sure you are aware of). I want to apologize, talk through this. Please.
Bonnie: I miss you, Rowan. I don’t want to be fighting. This is something we can work through, right?
Bonnie: I’m sorry I invaded your space. Please just talk to me.
Someone . . . please, someone just talk to me.
I’m looking down when the door to the coffee shop creaks open. I freeze behind the counter, holding my breath, hoping and praying it’s Rowan or Dakota. But when I glance up, I find Leith walking in, and all hope fails, crashing down once again.
It’s been two days, and I haven’t heard anything from either one of them. Two days of baking and getting ready for tomorrow’s grand opening while trying not to get lost in my thoughts. I’m failing miserably, of course. My mind is constantly going over every interaction I’ve had with Rowan and Dakota. Replaying my last conversations with them.
Self-absorbed.
Don’t listen.
Too pushy.
Not a good friend.
Immersed in a man, not finding myself.
Have I really been doing that? Is that really who I am?
It’s terrifying to realize that maybe I do carry those attributes. That I’m so deeply invested in myself that I don’t care about the feelings and reactions of others.
To say the least, it’s been a painful and torturous two days. Especially at night, when I’m alone in the cottage with no more baking to do, nothing to do but ruminate while I clutch my phone to my chest, hoping one of them calls or texts me back.
But there has only been silence on both ends.
“Hold back the excitement of seeing me,” Leith teases, pulling me back to the present, where I can’t even force a smile at his joke. I’m hanging on by a thread, and one little thing will break the dam that I’ve haphazardly built. “Hey.” Leith walks up to the counter where I’m standing. “What’s wrong?”
Damn him.
Damn those two words.
That’s all it takes.
One blink, and the tears I’ve been holding back crest over my lids and cascade down my cheeks.
I bury my face in my hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Shh, don’t apologize,” he says, coming around the counter and putting his arm around me. I turn in to his chest and welcome his warm but slightly unfamiliar embrace. I’m desperate for anything at this point, though. I haven’t had anyone to turn to. My parents and I aren’t exactly on great terms, and I don’t know if we ever will be. It’s sad to say, but besides Dakota, I really don’t have anyone else to appeal to, and that’s terrifying.
“What’s going on?” Leith asks.
I wipe at my tears and pull away. “Just a few stressful days.”
“Does this have to do with you and Dakota?”
I look up at him in surprise. “You know about that?”
“Isla spoke with me yesterday. She said she was concerned that you two were fighting.” He tilts my chin up, just like Rowan would. “Are you okay?”
Lip trembling, I shake my head. “No, I’m not. Everything is falling apart, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
Taking my hand, Leith leads me to one of the tables and sits me down. Then he moves around the counter, gets us both some tea and a buttery to share, and then brings them to the table, where he sits across from me. With a knife, he splits the buttery and sets his half on a napkin, offering me the plate to use.
“What’s going on?”
“You really want to know?”
He nods. “Of course, lass. You’re part of the Corsekelly family now. We help each other out. Tell me what’s going on.”
Even though I’m at an all-time low, I’m still a sucker for a pastry, so I take a bite of the buttery, savoring the rich flavor for a moment. “It started with Rowan. He took a call when I was at his house, and it seemed serious, so I gave him some space. I was walking around, and when I saw his shed I thought—”
“Ohhhh.” Leith winces. “You went in his shed?”
“I wanted to see if that’s where he stores his power washer. Boy, was I surprised.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t let anyone in there.”
“Why not? His pottery is breathtaking. He should be sharing that with the world.”
“Agreed, but that’s not something he shares with a lot of people. It’s his story to tell, not mine.” Leith takes a bite of his buttery, and I realize . . . that’s what I should have told Isla when she asked about Dakota. And how easy was that? Simple, and I wasn’t offended.
Man oh man did I screw up.
“I understand.”
“What did he say to you?”
“Roared at me. Rightfully so. He was so angry I could practically taste his fury in the air. Told me to leave, and we haven’t spoken since. Thinking back on it, I don’t blame him. I was so . . . lost in my own head, I didn’t take his feelings into consideration. I’ve tried texting him and calling and even going to his place, but nothing.”
Leith scratches the side of his face. “I shouldn’t say this, but I’m going to anyway, just so you don’t lose your mind. He really likes you.”
I shake my head. “Leith, I know he wanted nothing to do with me. You don’t have to say things to make me feel better.”
He smiles. “Trust me when I say that I’ve never seen him act the way he does when he’s with you. There’s something special between you two, and I wouldn’t give up just yet. Hang in there—he’ll come round.”
“He did say he would show up tomorrow, no matter what. Maybe I could apologize then. Put my heart out on the line.”
“What’s tomorrow?”
“I’m opening up new drinks and the baked goods to the public.” My stomach flips at just saying it out loud. “I emailed the tour bus companies that come through here, letting them know there’s a new take on some fresh Scottish food in Corsekelly, which their tourists might enjoy after seeing the Boaby Stone.”
“It’s a grand opening?” he asks, looking impressed.
“I guess so, yeah.”
“Congrats, lass.” He glances around. “You did a number on this place. It will do well.”
“Thank you, Leith.”
“Now.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “About this Dakota and Rowan business—the bonds you have with them, they’re unmatchable. They’re not something that will just fall apart from one row. Give them time, and they’ll come around. Rowan and I have been in our fair share of fights, and we’ve always come through them. Honestly, they’ve made us stronger because we’ve been able to understand each other better.” He squeezes my hand. “Hang in there, lass. And in the meantime, tell me more about this heart-on-the-line thing. Do you love me lad?”
I feel my cheeks flush. There’s no use hiding it. “I think I do, Leith. I’ve never really loved someone before, not romantically, but with Rowan, it’s different. He challenges me, makes me happy, protects me—and, most importantly, he makes me feel special, like I actually have something to offer this world.”
“That’s because you do.” He holds his hands out. “Look what you created. You are full of . . . potential—you just had to find where to funnel it.”
I thank him but can’t help but wonder, What’s the point of creating something if I don’t have anyone to enjoy it with?
Nerves eat away at me as I think about tomorrow, all the hard work I’ve put into the shop, and the possibility of it all failing. Of me failing once again.
Dakota’s anger-flushed face flashes through my mind, followed by Rowan’s.
Will they show up tomorrow?
Despite our disagreements, will they still show up?