Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Last night, Fyfe and I kissed. Not just a kiss. Like filthy, prelude to dirty sex kind of kissing. Much like the kind of kissing we’d done in my dream. He’d slipped his hand down my knickers, his thumb on my clit … and then his fucking phone had beeped on the coffee table. He’d jerked away to look at it and my brother’s name was on the screen.
He abruptly remembered I was Lewis’s wee sister.
I’d tried to hide my hurt, but his rejection was so painful, it was bloody difficult.
It seemed like pouring salt on the wound for my mind to conjure the most vivid sex dream I’d ever had. I winced feeling how wet I was. Jesus, had I come in my sleep?
Reaching over into my side table, I took out my vibrator.
“Do not think about Fyfe,” I whispered as I shoved my pajama shorts down.
After he’d left my flat last night, I’d vowed to keep the man at arm’s length.
Closing my eyes, I took care of myself, but I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering, from conjuring the dream. I came with his face in my mind, but I promised it would be the last time.
Ten
EILIDH
Eight months ago
The sight of my wee sister’s beaming smile filled me with joy.
Morwenna’s arrival couldn’t have come at a better time.
Lewis had mentioned last year that Morwenna admitted to feeling neglected by us. Mor was technically our half sister and because our mum was so much younger than our father, there was a big age gap between me and Mor. She was turning fifteen in November.
While I had always been a loud, smart-mouthed child who liked attention and, quite frankly, had preened beneath it, Mor was quieter. More reserved. She was actually a lot like our father.
I was envious of how much Mor looked like Mum with her copper-red hair, chestnut-brown eyes, and dimples. She was tall and slender. Lewis and I didn’t look like the Adairs or, of course, Mum. We both took after our birth mother, Francine. Dark hair, blue eyes. The only thing we’d inherited from our father was our olive skin.
Maybe that envy was a betrayal of Francine, but I didn’t know the woman who’d birthed me. I was a baby when she died. Regan was my mum. And I had to admit to no small amount of envy when Mor was born because I worried that deep down, Mum could never love me with the same intensity that she loved a child she actually gave birth to.
It was something I’d never admitted out loud to anyone.
And maybe subconsciously, it had held me back from Mor. At first, I was excited to have a baby around and had looked after her almost as much as my parents. But as she grew into a toddler and I realized how much of my parents’ time she required, I’d backed off. Lewis was the one who had given her his attention when we were teenagers. I was off acting, desperate to fulfil my dream of becoming a movie star.
Sometimes I didn’t recognize the girl I used to be.
So selfish and self-involved. It hurt knowing that was who I used to be.
Lewis informing me that we’d upset Mor with our neglect … I’d never felt like a bigger arsehole. It had taken patience to get past my sister’s defenses, but finally she trusted me enough to spend time with me.
And the past few weeks had been a balm to the soul.
Despite her reserve, Mor was excited about London and I was excited that I got to do all the things I’d never done before. We took a bus tour together, visited the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, went on the London Eye, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey. We even took a day tour of Stonehenge, Windsor Castle, and Bath. Then there were the West End shows we’d attended. I’d gotten us tickets to see two shows a week for the three weeks she was in London. We ate out most nights, then snuggled up on my couch to watch TV. When Mor opened up, she was funny and sharp and sweet all at the same time.
It was the best three weeks I’d had in as long as I could remember.
On our final day, I’d gotten permission to take Mor to the studio where we filmed Young Adult to show her how it all worked behind the scenes. She drank in every second of it, eager to learn what it was I did with my days, and I kicked myself for not doing it sooner.
That night, with our suitcases packed and waiting at my door for us to return to Ardnoch the next day, I confessed to my wee sister that this was the best time I’d had in a long time.
She gaped at me, her brown eyes wide with uncertainty. “Uh-uh.”