Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Heather made her laugh and blush, and I could tell she really cared about my daughter. That’s all that mattered to me. I wasn’t sure they’d tell me much about their escapades at uni, but with Taran in the mix, they regaled us about their first term as freshmen at their respective universities. I could see a change in Heather already. She’d always been confident, but there was an extra assertiveness to her now that she knew she could live out in the world on her own.
It was as scary as it was gratifying.
Thankfully, while my daughter was enjoying her independence in the frenetic environment of Glasgow, it had been quiet these past few months in Leth Sholas. That, of course, was after the mainland newspapers got wind of the story of a Glasgow crack dealer kidnapping Taran to steal a valuable antique. That hadn’t been fun, and Ramsay had to lie low.
“You people are going to blow my cover,” he’d growled at me one morning not long after the story broke.
I didn’t think it was wise to tell him that Taran had guessed about his background.
As for Edward White and Christopher Pollock, they both survived their gunshot wounds and were facing charges. Mrs. Gilchrist proclaimed absolute innocence on the matter, and Edward White confirmed she had no idea about the pocket watch.
Eventually, peace returned to Glenvulin. Ramsay proposed to Tierney, so we celebrated that, much to his chagrin. Murray’s custody battle with his wife had escalated, hence why he was here alone, looking depressed without Kelly to celebrate with. London had hesitantly accepted Taran’s offer to let her live in the bungalow rent free. It was kind of jumping the gun since the pocket watch hadn’t sold yet. After several appraisals that confirmed it was a very special, 150-year-old Patrice Pellier pocket watch, it was scheduled for auction at Sotheby’s in London a week after Hogmanay. Our auctioneer and antiques specialist there already had interested parties.
My girlfriend was about to become a multimillionaire.
Not that she had any grand plans other than to use it on donations and to fancy up the LSLS Charity Shop.
And, of course, Taran had moved in with me.
She stacked the dishwasher in an illogical manner, had more lotions than I’d ever seen any woman own ever, had a normal amount of clothes but an insane number of handbags, and I kept finding long strands of her hair everywhere. While she could bake, her cooking left something to be desired, and she hated that I liked to leave items out that I knew I needed to deal with in the near future. If I put them away, I’d forget about them, but the “clutter” irritated her. As did the logical way I stacked the dishwasher, the sawdust I left everywhere like a “construction fairy,” and that I left toothpaste rings on the sink.
And yet … it was bliss.
Our need for each other hadn’t lessened, and I daren’t tell any of our guests that there were very few surfaces in the house that we hadn’t had sex on. There was nothing like the contentment I felt cuddling up on the couch with her at night to watch the true crime docs she still loved, even after her own traumatic experiences.
Or waking up to her beautiful face every morning, knowing I got to wake up to her like this for the rest of our lives. Together we were strong, even when Taran’s fear proved true and her genetic test came back positive for the BRCA1 and BRCA 2 altered genes. She was negative for the PALB2. But she handled it well and was refusing, after everything we’d gone through, to let the possibility of breast cancer rule her. It meant regular breast screenings, but I saw that only as a good thing because it meant early detection. It meant being as in control of the situation as we could be.
It wasn’t going to stop us from living our lives and planning for the future.
I thought about the velvet ring box I’d stashed under the mattress and smirked to myself as I sat down.
Taran’s eyes met mine across the length of the tables and she cocked her head in thought, as if she’d read the mischief in my expression.
Tomorrow was Boxing Day. Heather had plans to take Hazel to visit some old friends. Angus was spending the day with my mum, Greg, and Cammie. Taran didn’t know any of this. She didn’t know I planned to drive her to the cove I took her to for the first time when we were just kids. That I planned to get down on one knee and ask her to marry me.
Some people would say it was too soon.
I’d say twenty-eight years was long enough.
That’s why I wanted to revisit our talk about kids. Taran was now in the high-risk category for pregnancy, and we wanted a family together. I think we needed to get started on that sooner rather than later. So … wedding first, then baby. Fingers crossed, anyway.