Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“Chilling.” Tierney was wide-eyed. “I think of serial killers being a domain of the US, not the UK.”
“We’ve had our share,” Ramsay muttered. “But they’re rare. Though … we did have one a few years back. A copycat killer. He copied a serial killer from a TV show. Even targeted the screenwriter’s girlfriend.”
“I remember that.” Cammie gaped. “That wasn’t that long ago. What the bloody hell is happening to the world?”
Silence fell over the table until finally Forde spoke. “Well, this is a fucking depressing conversation.”
“Does everything have to be all sunshine and roses?” Cammie crossed her arms over her chest, tone defensive.
I’d noted a cooling in their friendship over the past year, and it didn’t seem to be getting any warmer. Though I was curious what had caused the rift, it was none of my business, and I had a lot of my own business to concern myself with.
“Apparently not when you’re around.” Forde flashed her a feral grin.
“One of these days, someone is going to ram one of your drumsticks where the sun doesn’t shine,” Cammie snapped.
“One can only hope.”
I covered a snort of laughter with my fist, pretending to cough, and I heard London’s breathy hitch at my side. A quick glance revealed the corners of her mouth twitching desperately against a laugh.
Cammie narrowed her eyes. “Ass play? Really?”
I coughed even harder as Quinn let out an expletive and squeezed his eyes shut, clearly in pain at the sound of those words leaving his wee sister’s mouth.
“You shouldn’t judge people for their kinks just because you’re a vanilla sort of person,” Forde needled her.
“This conversation must cease,” Quinn commanded, making Taran giggle.
“Father has spoken.” Forde pretended to zip his mouth.
“Oh, and of course, whatever Quinn says and does goes, right?” Cammie sneered.
Taran waved a hand across the table. “Okay, enough. I sense this devolving past some lighthearted banter. Boys,” she addressed the band, “you have to take care of Quinn in a few weeks’ time. I’m taking the girls bridal dress shopping for the weekend in Glasgow. Quinn won’t ask so I’m asking. Please plan a Quinn-appropriate stag do.”
We all looked at Forde expectantly.
He sat back in his chair. “I take it I’m in charge of that, then?”
“You are his best friend,” Cammie reminded him.
“We’re all his best friend.”
“Aye, but you’re the only one who hasn’t settled down yet and still enjoys partying.”
Forde glowered at Cammie. “When was the last time I partied? I don’t have fucking time to party, Cameron. I work my arse off.”
“And yet you still have time to play the risky game of ‘Will I Catch an STI This Week?’”
Taran threw her hands in the air and slumped back in her seat. “I give up!”
As my friends tried to divert the conversation back onto friendlier grounds, I studied London’s profile as she followed the conversation, her eyes narrowing and widening, her lips parting and curling at the corners.
Longing filled my entire fucking being as I watched the play of emotions over her bonny face.
I knew I had to be good, not just for her sake but because life was already so complicated.
Throwing back the last of my NA ale, I stood abruptly, needing space from her as soon as possible so I didn’t give into my baser urges.
London gaped as the table grew silent.
Trying not to appear as sheepish or embarrassed as I felt by my lack of control, I explained, “We have to get back for Kelly. Mum will be wondering where we are. Or … you can stay if you want.”
London studied me for a second and then slowly stood. “Let’s head home.”
Of course, I’d wanted her to stay.
Instead, I had to endure the torturous fifteen-minute drive home in utter silence because I was afraid of what I might reveal if I spoke.
Mum and Kelly were asleep on the couch in the living room, so I turned off the telly and covered them with blankets.
Outside in the hall, I whispered a good night to London who stood uncertainly outside her bedroom door. The impulse to press her against it and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe was so strong, I had to force my feet in the opposite direction. Hurrying downstairs, I marched into my bedroom and closed the door firmly behind me.
“Fuck,” I muttered, hot blood thrumming through me.
I didn’t know how much longer I could pretend I didn’t want my wife.
26. London
Ahumongous cloud the color of gunmetal throbbed angrily over the sea. As I sat at the piano, I watched it break, rain lashing in a sideways slant, bouncing off the waves that crashed against the coastline. Even on a day as dreary as this, the view from the music room was awe-inspiring.
I waited on the piano bench for Kelly to show. Or not.
There was barely any sound of the weather outside, the insulation and windows were of such high quality. It made me feel safe and privileged to have such a beautiful home to shelter in while the sky sobbed. I desperately wanted to enjoy the strange tranquility of the moment. Yet my mind raced with all my worries.