Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
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.
William’s Wine Cellar just off Castle Street carried a varied and impressive collection of alcohol and stayed open later than most stores. I drove into Ardnoch alone, realizing that part of the reason I felt great was my sense of freedom. Walker had deduced some weeks ago that I was safe enough now to wander Ardnoch alone. He didn’t want me going anywhere else without a security detail, but he was satisfied I had privacy and respect here, now that most of the tourists had departed. The October break always brought a fresh gaggle of them, but that had ended and schools were now back in session.
While whisky was my drink of choice (it was the one alcoholic beverage I could enjoy at a leisurely pace and it didn’t depress me), I knew the ladies of our family were wine drinkers. Deciding to pick up a nice bottle of wine for dinner, I swung the Range Rover I’d borrowed from Lachlan’s estate fleet into a space outside the Gloaming. Arran wouldn’t be there—he was probably already with the family. Although it was Regan who called me, Sunday dinner was at Robyn and Lachlan’s. Everyone would be present, including my brand-new nieces.