Chapter Twenty-Six
In which Kai is treated to a lesson in fiscal responsibility and Luna has some serious competition.
Luna…
Fifteen thousand pounds. Fifteen. That’s even more appalling because it’s not in dollars; it’s in pounds, which is even more money.
Who lives like this? The MacTavishes, apparently. And he said it so casually, like fifteen thousand pounds is nothing. I’m not going to let him waste money on me like that. At least, for as long as this marriage lasts.
I’m running on the treadmill in the gym, and the huge windows in front of me look out over a little pocket park across the street. An exhausted mom lets her three toddlers loose, slumping against the park bench with a sigh of relief that I swear I can hear across the street and through Kai’s bulletproofed windows.
Kids. I’ve alternately longed for them and then convinced myself that my lackluster upbringing after losing my parents didn’t equip me with the necessary skills. I’ve never dated a man I considered having children with, so it’s been a moot point.
While offspring have nothing to do with the agreement I have with Kai, I hope that one day I’ll be part of a close family. I can’t supply it, so I’m hoping my (far in the future) husband’s family will be loving and welcoming. I will not bring kids into this world without the support of aunties, uncles, and cousins. And grandparents. I’ve watched my friends with their grandparents, and it was like they could do no wrong.
When I was sixteen, Lila Turner’s grandmother caught me watching them chat and gave me a big hug. “Honey,” she said, “grandchildren are priceless. They know they will always be my favorite.”
“Which grandchild is your favorite?” I asked, laughing.
Her smile was so sweet. “Whichever one I’m hugging.”
I want that for my - possibly someday - kids. I won’t leave them alone in the world if something happens to me.
This leads me to thinking about Morren Island and the Aristocrats. They had so much money, yet they were greedy enough to create something so horrifying that a single strike could kill thousands of people.
When is it ever enough for people like that?
I hear the door shut downstairs and Kai’s voice carrying up the stairs. “Luna love? Where are ya?”
“This is going to be so much fun!” I gloated, walking hand in hand with my husband. We stop in front of an Asda Supercentre.
“And why are we here, lass?” He looks relaxed, a little amused as I pull him through the doors.
“Well, I understand that Asda is like the Scottish version of Walmart, you can find some insanely good deals here for clothing.”
He looks appalled. “I’m not buying your new wardrobe here.”
“You’re not buying mine,” I correct him sweetly. “You’re buying theirs.” I point to a group of fifty beaming parents and their children. “I’d like you to meet Ada Burns. She’s the director of Hope House. The shelter serves hundreds of families every year who are struggling with homelessness.”
“And usually, domestic violence as well,” Ada finishes my spiel, offering her hand to Kai with a smile. She is a sweet-looking woman in her late forties, but I can tell she’s got a spine of steel. When I reached out to her this morning about the shopping trip, it was clear she knew who Kai is - what he is - and yet, she’s still toe to toe with my giant spouse and giving him the “Do not say no to these people!” pitch.
Side-eyeing Kai, I wonder if he’s angry about this little ambush. He is smiling, just the half-smile with one corner of his mouth fully involved, but he looks amused rather than irritated.
Kissing my hand gallantly and making some of the little girls giggle, Kai asks, “What are we doing for these lovely families?”
Stepping closer, I whisper, “Would you spend fifteen thousand pounds to buy them clothes and diapers? You can outfit them all for the same price as the dress.”
“As you wish,” he murmurs into my ear, kissing my earlobe and biting it just a little at the end, “but I’m still buying ya clothes when and where I want to.”
“The Princess Bride, ” I sigh. “I love that movie.”
“What am I missing here, lass?”
“The Princess Bride. You know, the movie? The romance between Princess Buttercup and Wesley. When she wanted something from him, he would smile enigmatically and say, ‘As you wish.’ It’s one of my favorite movies. Oh! We should watch it so you understand.”
Kai does not look completely invested in the plan, but he nods. “As you wish.”
A little shiver races up my spine.
This close, I can see the fine lines around his eyes when he smiles. He smells good, like cedar and smoke, so I burrow into his chest a bit. “Thank you for doing this! I didn’t think I could ever wear that dress again without crippling guilt. Now I’ll see these kid’s faces, and it will be okay.”
His thumb is stroking over my cheekbone as he examines me curiously. “Ya do know that MacTavish International has a robust charity division?”
“We’ve been deep in wedded bliss for only the last like… 45 minutes, so no, I didn’t. But that makes me very happy to hear.”
“Father Barclay would have loved ya,” Kai chuckles.
“Who’s Father Barclay?”
“He’s been gone for ten years or so, but he was the priest who ran our family’s parish. He hated Da and his brothers because their weddings were… unusual. Every time he had to marry off another MacTavish, he charged them through the nose for it. I think my Da’s fee went to build the huge children’s center on the parish grounds.”
“I like this Father Barclay already,” I nod approvingly. “I adore Catholics. They like collars and kneeling and wearing lots of black. Throw in that sacramental wine and you’ve got yourself a party!”
What did I say?
His green eyes are suddenly the shade of a forest fire, smoky, dark, and greedy. “Collars, baby? Ya like collars and kneeling? We can work with that.”
The mortifying realization of what I’d said turns my face an unattractive shade of beet red. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just…”
His hand is on my lower back, pulling me closer. “I have an excellent memory. I never forget a thing. Especially not a discovery as promising as this.”
“Oh, my god,” I groan. “Please. People are looking at us.”
Of course, shoppers are probably staring at Kai because he’s enormously tall and bulging with muscle, audacity, and BDE. You don’t have to know he’s a legendary MacTavish, he’s just a fine-looking male specimen.
I’m saved from my embarrassment by a little girl with an unruly mass of black curls tugging on Kai’s shirt sleeve. “Will ya help me shop?” She opens her big, brown eyes extra wide, and I smother a laugh. This kid might be eight years old at the most, but she knows how to work it because Kai crumbles like a cheap muffin.
“A’course, lass. What’s your name?”
She takes his hand firmly. “Ainsley. That’s my ma and my little brothers over there.” The clever girl finally looks at me, begrudgingly offering her other hand. “Ya can come too, if ya like.”
“I would like that very much, Miss Ainsley.”
Shopping when you have an epic budget to work with is so much more fun than I could have imagined. Back home, I don’t think I’d ever had anything brand new, and shopping was a misery because I was always budgeting in the back of my head to make sure I had enough so there wasn’t a humiliating moment at the checkout where I had to put something back.
Ainsley and her mother charge ahead, throwing socks and underwear in their cart, jeans for the boys, sweaters, and t-shirts. Ainsley pauses by a rack of pretty dresses, wistfully touching the lacy hem of one.
“Oh, love, that’s not necessary,” her mother says, “ya couldn’t wear it enough before ya grew out of it and-” Kai’s large, tanned arm reaches between them.
“What size are ya, lass?”
“Mr. MacTavish, that’s too much! We’re just focusing on the essentials,” her mother says.
“It’s just a dress,” he shrugs, winking at Ainsley. A little later, he speaks with Ada, the director, and then every kid there gets in the checkout line with a little something extra. While the adults are engaged in the very long process of checking out, Kai and I chase the kids around the parking lot in what is an extremely loosely defined game of soccer - I mean, football. Sitting down to catch my breath, I’m joined by Ainsley and another little girl who plop themselves down on my lap.
“He’s nice,” Ainsley says, watching the game. “If ya ever decide to not be Mrs. MacTavish anymore, will ya give him to me?”
“Instead of throwing him back into the single male population?” I ask, forcing myself to keep a straight face. This kid is deadly serious, and I love that about her. “Very Scottish, my friend. Thrifty.”
“Waste not, want not,” she says primly, and I bite my lip.
Who can blame her? He’s running after two of the boys, just as noisy as they are, and expertly kicking the ball in the direction of a little dude standing by himself.
He would make a good father, I think before mentally slapping the back of my head. Thoughts like that can only get me into trouble. I won’t be here to see Kai have children, I’ll be back in Iowa, back in my old life
But I know they’ll be as gorgeous as he is.