23. Wes

Chapter twenty-three

Wes

L ayne’s restlessness in the flight terminal is thick in the air as she awaits her first flight. However, I can see through her fa?ade. Anxiety has been coursing through her flawless body for the past couple of days. I’ve caught her stealing glances at herself in the mirror, her hands lingering on her stomach. Despite my lingering curiosity, I’ve kept my mouth shut, hoping that if she is pregnant, she’ll tell me. Although the internal voice of the curious and impatient part of me urges me to know the truth, I resist the temptation.

Even though my brain goes straight to Gollum from The Lord of the Rings. “We needs to know if the precious is carrying our baby.”

I know Layne has mixed feelings about starting a family, especially at this point in our lives. When I suggested waiting, her response was nonchalant, “If it happens, it happens.” That statement triggered a primal urge within me, it had me wanting to impregnate her as soon as possible. However, I hope that this trip to visit my parents during the holiday will provide some solace for Layne and help her unwind a bit .

Layne seems oblivious to the fact that I have noticed her recent struggles with her mental health. I can see the moments when she becomes lost in her thoughts or freezes near bodies of water. Her smile may briefly brighten, only to fade when negative thoughts invade her mind. It is painful to witness the person I adore suffer silently.

Internally, I’m screaming for her to be vocal. To let me carry some of the burden for her.

My heart aches for Layne to let her guard down, to share her worries, and to let me be her pillar of support. I want to be her rock, offering solace and empathy whenever she needs it. I hope Layne feels safe enough to share her struggles during this little vacation. Until then, I’ll wait and support her until she feels comfortable opening up.

A voice comes over the speaker, letting us know that the flight is ready to board. I grab our bags, sling them over my shoulders, and stand, slipping my hand in hers .

“Ready, Ma Petite Mort? “ I ask, leading her toward the terminal door.

Layne takes a deep breath and nods. I hand our boarding passes over to the attendant, and they permit us to proceed. Once we step over the threshold into the plane, the flight attendant directs us to the left into business class.

“Do you want the window seat, baby?” I offer as I stow our bags overhead.

“No, I’ll take the aisle in case I have to use the bathroom. I don’t want to ask you to move a million times.” She gives me a strained smile, and I cocked my eyebrow at her. “I just don’t feel so good. I think all the excitement is getting to me.”

Or you’re carrying our child.

I turn to look out the window and smirk to myself. I like the idea of that.

“So how long is this flight?” Layne asks, looking around at all the other passengers joining us in business class.

I look at my watch. “About five and a half hours. We should land in Richmond at two in the afternoon Eastern time.” I lift the dividing armrest and grab her by the waist, pulling her into me. I grasp her chin and turn her to face me, placing a tender kiss on her lips. “You can take a nap on me.” She nods, leaning her head against my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her, holding her close as the plane taxis down the runway. The engines roar to life, and we feel the gentle vibrations beneath us as we gain speed.

The plane ascends into the sky, Layne closes her eyes, trying to find some comfort in the noise and motion. I stroke her hair soothingly, whispering words of reassurance in her ear. “I know you’re scared, Layne, but I’m here.” Layne breathes out a “Mmm” as she drifts off to sleep. The flight attendant comes by, offering us some beverages and snacks, but I decline, thanking her instead.

I watch as the world outside the window becomes smaller and smaller; the clouds enveloping us in a soft blanket. I can’t help but feel a sense of anticipation and excitement for the holiday. I’m excited to see my parents and to have Layne with me. It’s been a while since I’ve been to my parents’ house, and I’ve missed them something terrible.

Hours pass by, and the cabin lights dim, creating a serene atmosphere. Layne’s fast asleep, her breathing calm. I take this opportunity to pull out my Kindle and do some reading. My recent obsession has been a new book about body farms and forensic investigation. It’s a book on a study of the stages of decomposition in a controlled environment. Fascinating shit . It’s always good to keep up with the latest science when your hobby is killing lowlife scum.

When the plane begins its descent, I gently wake Layne, her eyes fluttering open. She looks at me with a sleepy smile, and I can’t help but feel love and protectiveness towards her. The announcement for landing comes over the intercom, and we prepare ourselves for the last leg of our trip .

The wheels touch the ground with a slight jolt, and we taxi towards the gate. As the seatbelt sign turns off, we gather our belongings and make our way off the plane. The unfamiliar sights and sounds of Richmond greet us, and we take a moment to soak it all in. We make our way down to the baggage claim. I pull out my phone and call my Da. After three short rings, he picks up.

“Da…We just got down to get our bags. Are you guys already here?” I can hear the sounds of people chattering in the background.

“Yep, we’re outside waitin’ on ya.”

“See you in a few.” I hang up and search for our suitcase as the baggage piles in. Layne points to our bag, and I quickly snatch it off the belt. As we head toward the pickup area, my Ma’s fiery red hair catches my eye as soon as we exit the building. I whistle sharply, and their heads turn towards the sound as they head in our direction. I gently take hold of Layne’s hand, pressing my lips against her skin in a tender kiss. “Get ready baby, they love to give hugs.”

My parents’ approach and the excitement is palpable. My parents embrace us tightly, showering us with affectionate hugs. My Ma gives us both pecks on the cheek and Layne smiles warmly, clearly feeling welcomed. Laughter fills the air as we walk towards the car, my Da already cracking jokes.

“How’s about this one, Why did the investigators carry a pencil to the crime scene?”

“Dunno Da, why?” I answer, looking at Layne for reprieve as she slides into the backseat.

“They wanted to draw their own conclusions.” Da cracks up, smacking me on the back. Layne cracks up in the back seat and I give her an exasperated look.

The drive through the familiar streets of Richmond drags on and I can’t help but feel a little sad. Siobhan should be here. Every holiday without her never gets easier. Layne rests her head on my shoulder, her fingers entwined with mine. I lean over and whisper, “I love you, Ma Petite Mort . I’m so happy you’re here with me.”

“Me too, baby.”

We arrive at my parents’ home, and the familiar scent of my Ma’s home-cooked meals greets us. The moment we step inside, the house welcomes us with a comforting warmth, and Ronan’s excited paws echo through the hallways. Ma turns to Layne as Ronan leaps up to lick her face.

“Just give him a push if he bothers ya. He’s a big teddy bear.” Layne laughs as Ronan licks her.

The evening unfolds with stories, laughter, and shared memories. Layne fits seamlessly into our family, her presence bringing fresh energy and happiness. As the night draws to a close, my parents show us the guest room where we will stay for the duration of our visit.

After turning in for the night, we settle into bed. Layne snuggles close to me, her head on my chest. Her slow, calm breathing creates a soothing melody that lulls me into a peaceful sleep. This is exactly what we needed.

The Day before Thanksgiving

Ronan’s never-ending barking outside shatters the silence, stirring me from my sleep. With Layne not curled into my chest, I stretch my arm towards her side of the bed, only to find it empty and chillingly cold. Like she hasn’t been here for hours. Startled, I sit up in bed and check the time on the clock beside me. I look over at the clock, and it’s already fucking nine – I never sleep in.

I notice Layne has left the door to the room cracked open, prompting me to slip on my sweatshirt and make my way to the kitchen. Layne’s laughter has me smiling as I turn the corner from the hallway to the open kitchen and dining room. Layne and my Ma are in the kitchen, huddled over a skillet on the stove. I lean against the wall and watch my wife learn how to make traditional tattie scones.

“Ya can make fresh mashed tatoes, but honestly, leftovers work best,” Ma tells her.

“You guys have leftover potatoes? Between Wes and I, there are never any leftovers. I guess that’s what happens when a Scot and an Irish person end up marrying each other.” Layne laughs a genuine, happy laugh.

Fuck…I love seeing her this happy. If I could, I would keep her here in this moment just so she can never feel any of the shit that I know plagues her thoughts daily. I would do anything to take all of that away.

I clear my throat and walk into the kitchen. “ Ma, a bheil thu a’ teagasg dha mo bhean na biadhan as fheàrr leam a dhèanamh gus an reamhraicheas i mi? (Ma, are you teaching my wife to make my favorite foods so she can fatten me up?)“ I’ve never spoke my native tongue in front of Layne, but the look on Layne’s face tells me I may just have to start speaking it more.

“All I could understand of that was “My wife”,” Layne says, “What’s the rest?”

I grab a mug from the shelf, pour myself a cup of tea from the pot, and take a seat at the table. Layne walks over and leans in for a kiss. “I asked my Ma if she was teaching you how to make all my favorite foods so you can fatten me up.” Adding milk and sugar to my tea, I stir it and take a sip.

“I’ll help you exercise it off.” She whispers, sauntering back into the kitchen, and looking back at me over her shoulder. I chuckle at Layne’s playful response and watch as she continues to learn from my Ma. The sight of them together warms my heart. It’s moments like these that make me grateful for the life we are building together .

I watch as Layne flips the tattie scones in the skillet and join in the conversation. “So, Ma, how did you learn to make these traditional Scottish dishes? Did Grandma teach you?” I inquire, genuinely curious about our family’s culinary traditions. So maybe one day, I can pass them on to Layne and I’s children.

Ma smiles nostalgically. “Aye, your Grandma was a wonderful cook. She passed down all her recipes to me, and now I’m passing them on to Layne. It’s important to keep our heritage alive through food, don’t ya think?”

I nod, understanding the significance of preserving our cultural roots especially as immigrants. “Absolutely, Ma. And Layne seems to be a quick learner. I know she’ll have them down in no time.” I give Layne a playful wink and continue to drink my tea.

Layne beams with pride as she successfully removes the tattie scones from the skillet. She places them on a plate and brings them over to the table, joining me. “Here you go, Buainteoir . Freshly made tattie scones to complete a full Scottish breakfast, just for you.”

I take a bite, savoring the delicious flavors. “Mmm, they’re perfect.”

She blushes and playfully nudges my shoulder. “Well, with an outstanding teacher like your Ma, how could I go wrong?”

“Ma? Where’s Da run off to?” I ask between stuffing my face full of eggs.

“He took Ronan out. That dog is a menace, I tell ya. Even in his old age. Are ya going to go with him to the shop to get everything we need for tomorrow?” Ma asks, giving me the look that says…Yes you are.

“Of course.”

We continue to enjoy our breakfast together, basking in the warmth and joy that fills the room. As I watch Layne and Ma interact, I can’t help but feel immense gratitude for the love and happiness they bring into my life.