Always You (Adair Family 3)

“Don’t talk nonsense.” He dismissed her before saying to Arro, “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Arro stiffened. “I have nothing to say to you, Mr. Oliphant. I couldn’t care less what you think of me or my family. In fact, I doubt we’ve ever wasted a second of our lives thinking about you, and I don’t intend to break that habit. Now, if you’re done”—she reached back for me, and I stepped up to her side—“we would like to order our food.”

The old man huffed and spluttered and opened his mouth to say something else.

“I wouldn’t,” I warned him, not caring if my tone was threatening and he was just an old man. I didn’t want to listen to any more of his bile.

He stomped his cane once more like a fucking cliché and hurried past us, threatening Morag that he would never spend money in her store again.

“Good riddance,” Morag said, grimacing. “He always was an unpleasant wee man.” She leaned over the counter, smiling widely. “Is it true, then?”

Arro leaned into me. “It’s true.”

Morag looked pleased, which admittedly felt good. “I really am so happy for you both. You make a beautiful couple.”

“Thanks, Morag,” Arro said, sounding a little hoarse, as if the comment had made her emotional.

“You just ignore the gossips. They turn things into a scandal where none exists. They’ll find something else to talk about soon enough. Now, food? The usual?”

By the time we left Morag’s, Arro was subdued. I didn’t know if it was about Oliphant or the fact that we were walking down the street toward my row house.

I gave her room to think, and it was a silent walk.

Once we stopped outside my door, I looked down at her and offered, “We can do this another day.”

“No.” Arro shook her head, looking determined. “I’m not afraid to go in there anymore. I want this, Mackennon. I want to make this work. Subconsciously, I knew that before we came into the village today. I wouldn’t have shared you with everyone, putting ourselves out there to be judged like that, if I didn’t know I was going to fight hard to be in this with you. A room in a house will not scare me away.”

Reassured, I let out a shaky exhale.

Arro gave me a tender smile, took the key from my hand, and opened the door.

I followed her in.

And the first words out of her mouth weren’t “I can’t do this” or “The memory is too awful”… It was, “Jesus, Mackennon, it’s bloody stifling in here. When was the last time you checked in?” She marched over to the window that faced the street and pushed it outward, letting warm air into the much warmer air in the house. Grinning over her shoulder, she said, “This way, the nosy bastards can hear everything we’re getting up to.”

Relief and amusement mingled as I shut the door with my foot and strolled over to her. “Then let’s give them something to listen to.” I lifted her over my shoulder, her shrieks of laughter filtering out to the street as I threw her onto the couch and came down over her to tickle the life out of her. Her screams of hilarity could probably be heard down at the Gloaming.

Just like that, the terrible memory was exorcised by who we’d become.

By who I’d become. And the forgiveness she gave to the man I used to be.

30

Arro

The sky was so blue today, barely a cloud marring its perfect gradient from baby blue on the horizon to a warm cornflower at its height. Nothing was quite as beautiful, however, as the shore at the Bay of Sannick, a striking turquoise bleeding into royal blue as the water lapped the golden-white sand of the beach. On a day like this, you might think you were somewhere in the Caribbean.

Even the grass of the surrounding fields looked an unearthly bright green as the sun shone down on us.

Mac settled a blanket on the sand, the beach quiet despite the busy tourist season. He’d agreed to work this Saturday to cover one of his team’s shifts, so I’d taken today as a personal day to make sure we wouldn’t miss our time together this week. Coming here on a Wednesday meant beating the weekenders, but there were still some folks roaming around. We were just a few miles down the coast from John O’Groats, after all.

“What a perfect day,” I commented with a smile as Mac removed lunch from our picnic basket. It was perfect. While it was one of the warmest days on record this year, the breeze from the bay was soothing. Though it reminded me to dig into my purse for the sunscreen. I handed it to Mac first.

“I’m good.” He waved it off.

“You’re wearing a T-shirt that displays your delicious manceps and thick manarms, so while, yes, you’re always good, you also need to take care of your skin.”

Mac grinned but took the lotion. “Manceps? Manarms?”