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)
“How are you?” I repeated.
“All right.” He shot me a reluctant smile. “Been worrying about losing those damn wedding rings.”
Fyfe was Lewis’s best man.
I laughed. “The pressure.” Then, because I was a masochist, “Are you bringing a date to the wedding?”
He tensed for a millisecond, shot me a look out of the corner of his eye, and then returned to staring straight ahead. “No. I am … I’m casually seeing someone, though.”
The thought of him with someone other than me was so painful, I had to shut all emotion down.
“It’s not serious.” He turned to me now. “You know I don’t do serious.”
“Right.” I smirked as I created a mental shield between myself and my jealousy.
“We started seeing each other last month. She’s from the US. Here on a work visa until January. We’re just passing the time together. There’s not a huge selection in the Highlands, you know. So it’s just … fun. Can’t invite her to the wedding. It would give her the wrong idea.”
Please stop talking.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“Aye.”
Fyfe flinched like I’d hit him. “Who? When?”
“Oh, I’m not seeing someone romantically.” I took perverse pleasure in his reaction. “I’m seeing a therapist. Her name is Diana.”
His shoulders seemed to slump with relief. My eyes narrowed. Interesting.
“That’s good. Is it helping?”
“Definitely.” I relayed to him what I’d told Dad, falling so easily into that place of sharing with Fyfe because I couldn’t seem to help myself.
He reached out and curved his hand over mine. “Eilidh … it kills me that you ever felt those things about yourself. Do you not know that your friendship has meant so much to me and to others over the years?”
Friendship.
Bloody friendship.
I smiled tightly and pulled my hand away. “Thank you. I better get back inside. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Fyfe searched my face for a second, then nodded. “Aye. See you tomorrow.”
Thirteen
FYFE
The combined noise of the fiddle, accordion, guitar, bodhran drum, and flute filled the village hall as Lewis’s family, friends, and neighbors danced with abandon. My best friend’s face was lit with laughter and happiness as he spun his bride out and pulled her back against his body. Callie’s head tipped back, her laughter ringing out above the music. She was beautiful in her wedding dress and all eyes were on the blissed-out couple.
Well, not all eyes.
Mine kept pulling toward the maid of honor.
I sipped at my whisky, watching as Eilidh showed Morwenna the steps to the ceilidh music. Not everyone was proper ceilidh dancing (including the bride and groom), but some were. Eilidh looked beautiful and relaxed, and Mor lit up under her big sister’s attention. I’d noted a marked difference in their relationship, how close they seemed now, and I was glad for Eils.
What I wasn’t glad for was this continued distance between us.
So much distance, even though she assured me we were fine after our kiss. That moment between us seemed like a fuzzy dream and not reality.
Because I’d never get to touch her like that again.
And apparently, I was never getting her back the way I had her.
That now-familiar burn scored across my chest.
I wanted to leave.
As much as I was over the moon for Lewis and had stood proudly at his side as he and Callie got married across the street in Ardnoch Church earlier today, I wanted to get away from this thing that was slowly turning into agony.
Everyone’s eyes had been on Callie as she’d walked down the aisle toward Lewis. I’d had to force my gaze to her because Eilidh had walked down the aisle before her in her maid of honor gown, and I could barely hear anything over the sudden rush of blood in my ears.
She’d worn a pale green silk dress with thin straps, and the top part of it seemed almost corseted, pushing her breasts up. It skimmed her figure, tight at the waist and hips but then flowing loosely around her ankles. I thought bridesmaids weren’t supposed to be sexy so they didn’t pull attention from the bride. But that color against Eilidh’s dark hair and olive skin was striking.
It was like seeing one of her red-carpet moments in real life. Untouchable Eilidh Adair suddenly at my fingertips.
I watched now as she hopped easily on her high heels, her arm around Mor’s shoulders. Mor giggled as she attempted to copy her big sister. Eilidh seemed the happiest I’d seen her in a long time, and the immensity of my relief was a balm to my agitation. Smiling over my glass of whisky, I noted the tendrils of dark curls falling loose from Eilidh’s updo.
I imagined all that hair spilled across my pillow, her lying breathless on her back beneath me, her dress bunched up to the waist, and her breasts shaking with the fierceness of my thrusts into her.
Fuck.
I should leave. Go to my American. She knew the score. What we were. And what we were was extremely far from complicated. Which was what I needed.