Chapter Thirty-Two
In which why are there so many guns?
Luna…
The next day…
I barely have time for breakfast and a hot bath to soothe my very sore lower half before I hear Kenna’s voice.
“Mrs. MacTavish, are ya decent?” she shouts. “We’re takin’ ya out for a girl’s day.”
Looking in the bathroom mirror, I groan. I have bruises in the shape of Kai’s teeth on both breasts and an unmistakable stubble rash on my neck and chest. Even with a turtleneck, I’m not going to be decent.
Limping out to the bedroom door, I shout, “Give me a minute!”
“I have some concealer foundation in my bag if ya need it!” Catriona, of course.
Doing what I can to not look like the post-sex Jezebel that I am, I pull on some jeans and a blouse that I button up to the top. Kenna, Sloan, and Catriona are lounging in the living room.
“Kind of a warm day for that blouse all buttoned up like you’re a Victorian maid, aye?” Kenna smiles at me sweetly.
“Did we have this scheduled?” I ask crossly. “I don’t believe I saw it on my social calendar.”
They all burst into laughter. “Honey, we’re rescuing you from the Lady Elspeth’s plans for you. She’s the matriarch of the clan, and once she sets thing in motion, there is no going back,” Sloan says, leading me out to one of the ubiquitous black SUVs this family seems to like. There are two cars in front of us and two behind.
“The sudden surge in security seems a little over the top,” I say. “Is that because there are four of us?”
Catriona shakes her head, pulling up an app on her phone. “See that? We also have two drones shadowing us. One is loaded up with the same fiery shite you saw blow up that car full of shooters two weeks ago. Each car has five armed men and is equipped with bulletproof glass and doors, along with self-inflating tyres.” She drops her phone in her lap. “Everyone’s busy today, handling this mess. But since my particular talents aren’t needed, I get to do the girly shite with ya.”
“Well, since your particular talents saved my life on that island, I am grateful for them.” We’re heading into an area of Glasgow I haven’t seen before. “Where are we going?”
“Buchanan Street, to start,” Kenna says. “We have appointments at two bridal shops. If ya dinna like anything they have, we’ll move on to the Style Mile area.”
“Really, it doesn’t have to be this big deal,” I say, picturing the cost of what they’d deem acceptable. “Couldn’t I just wear the dress I had for the civil ceremony?”
They all look at each other before bursting into laughter. “Remember I mentioned the Lady Elspeth?” Catriona says.
“Uh, yeah. She’s your grandmother, right?”
“Yes, she is. And a truly alarming force of nature,” Sloan says. “She has many hobbies, including expensive footwear and terrifying everyone within a mile radius of her. But her best thing? She can put on a full wedding with two hundred guests in less than twelve hours.”
“Aye, my mum’s told me stories,” Catriona laughs. “Da flew into town with Mum and announced at midnight that they’d gotten engaged on his jet. By the next afternoon, the entire estate was fully decorated, caterers set, musicians tuned up… she did give Mum a chance to pick her own wedding gown. From the eight dresses the Lady Elspeth had already selected.”
A big wedding is sounding less and less appealing. “You know, Kai and I are already married,” I say, my voice pitched just under a whine. “Maybe we could just skip the whole thing?”
I will never admit, even under threat of torture, that I have sixteen Pinterest boards full of wedding ideas because those were just fantasy. I never expected to be confronted with the reality of a wildly extravagant spectacle of a wedding.
“I hate to break it to ya, but you’re a MacTavish now,” Kenna says. “I can sweeten the pot for ya, though.”
“How so?” I ask, still trapped in the existential horror of a society wedding.
“We know how important the charitable side is to ya,” Kenna explains. “MacTavish International has an enormous philanthropy fund, and they always need smart people to oversee new projects. How about we take you to the office and show ya around a little?”
“Not today,” Sloan breaks in. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
“I must admit, that was really fun. Thank you!”
It’s possible we might all be a bit buzzed because shopping for dresses included champagne - which I thought they only did in the movies - and then lunch with mimosas. By the time we’d ordered every dessert on the menu and shared them, it was nearly dusk.
Sloan’s phone buzzed, and her eyes widened as she read the message. “Crap, is it really that late? I have to go. I was supposed to meet Ethan for a date.”
“Is that what we’re calling whips and chains these days?” Cat really has no filter.
“Shut up!” Sloan blushes violently as I realize she clearly has an ‘intense’ married life.
“And that’s my cue to leave.” Kenna tosses her napkin on the table and stands up, just a bit unsteady. “I’ll be taking my human tank and heading home. Tank!” She waves at her bodyguard, “Let’s get out of here.”
Said human tank is Gil, who’s so over-muscled that he looks like he lifts cars as a hobby. He takes her elbow as he assists her out the door.
“I think those two have a thing,” I say to Catriona. “They’re kind of cute together.”
“Dinna let Uncle Dougal hear ya say that, he’d probably shoot Gil,” she warns, finishing off her mimosa.
“Well, that seems rude. Why? Because he’s her bodyguard?”
“The family dinna think a personal bodyguard can do his job properly if he - or she, we have female bodyguards too - if they’re emotionally attached to their asset.”
“Asset?”
“The person they’re guarding.” Catriona pulls me up with an impressive amount of strength. “C’mon, lightweight. Let’s get ya home.”
We hug outside the restaurant before she gets into her black SUV and heads out.
“Mrs. MacTavish, let’s put ya into the car quickly,” Ian says, touching his earpiece and directing the other guards to pile in the chase SUV.
He opens my car door, and we realize the back seat is not empty. An older man is sitting there calmly, pointing a very large gun at us.
“Luna, I assure you I mean you no harm. But I’m also not interested in allowing your guards to put a bullet in my chest. Would you humor an old man and give me five minutes?”
I hear multiple clicks of safeties being released, and I see my guards are pointing guns at other guards who seem to belong to this man.
“Where the hell is everyone getting guns? This is Glasgow, not Los Angeles! ” Maybe not the most useful observation at this moment, but it’s clear that if everyone starts shooting, no one’s getting out of here without a lot of bloodshed.
The man nods his head with a wry smile. “Well, you do run in different circles than the average American tourist.” His gun looks heavy, but his aim at Ian never wavers. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just wanted to meet you. You have my word.”
“Ma’am, this isn’t safe!” Ian says urgently.
“Five minutes,” the man urges.
“Ian, you sit in the driver’s seat. Angus, you’re in the passenger seat with your gun pointed at our visitor. We’ll leave the car doors open.” I sound remarkably calm for a woman who is about to wet herself. “Sir, if your intentions are as harmless as you say, you will have no problem giving that gun to one of your guys while we talk.”
He stares at me for a moment. There is something familiar about him. Blondish gray hair clipped short, a goatee, he’s well dressed in a nice suit. His accent tells me he’s American, but that’s about it. With all these bodyguards pointing guns at my bodyguards who are also pointing their guns… what was my point here?
Maybe I’m drunker than I thought.
He must be very important or rich.
“Very well,” he agrees. One of his bodyguards standing by his door makes a protesting sort of noise, but he hands the man his gun without looking at him.
“Let’s introduce ourselves.” I hold out my hand. “Luna Jones MacTavish. A pleasure to make your acquaintance…?”
Gravely shaking my hand, he nods. “Collin Harris. I’m your grandfather.”
What the actual fuck?
“My parents are dead. I don’t have any family other than my chain-smoking aunt!” I snap. I pull back my hand, and he lets go of it with some reluctance.
“I understand that this is what you’ve known all your life,” he says gently. “Your mother Patricia was my daughter. When she got pregnant with you, she and your father, Tom, left the family and moved to the Midwest. I knew nothing about their life after they left. That was the deal we made.”
Staring at him, I try to make sense of what he’s said. It feels like some of the words are mixed up in the wrong order or something because I’m having a hard time understanding this. As I look at him, really look, I realize we have the same eyes.
“Sapphire blue,” my Mom used to say when we stood in front of a mirror together, “with flecks of gold like the sun.” His blond hair is mixed with gray now, but the blond bits still have a silver sheen like mine and Mom’s.
“H- how-” My throat closes up, suddenly thick with tears, and I take a moment. “How did you find me, then?”
His jaw tightens a bit. “Your husband reached out to me.”
My head is bobbing loosely like flowers in a breeze. It feels too heavy to hold upright, too many thoughts rising to the surface all at once, demanding to be heard.
“Well.” I clear my throat and start again. “Well. Then I think you should come home with me.”
I know at least six people are frantically calling Kai right now, so I’m not going to bother. I’m not even sure what I would say to him right now.