Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
CALLIE
SIX WEEKS LATER
Lewis’s parents’ home was a comforting cacophony of people talking over one another, asking to pass the food and drink, and calling back and forth between the adult and kids’ table.
The two tables weren’t a deliberate attempt to separate the young from the older, but a necessity since the Adair family had grown exponentially in the last two decades.
There were twenty-four humans in Thane and Regan’s living area, including the one in my belly. I’d counted. The five Adair siblings and their partners; my parents; me and Lewis (Eilidh was the only Adair not in attendance), plus Fyfe, who was an honorary member of the family.
Then there were the teens, Lewis’s cousins—almost sixteen-year-old Vivien, who was the spitting image of her mother Robyn and had all the cocky confidence of her father.
If I’d been half as confident and charismatic as Vivien at fifteen, I could have ruled the world.
Viv was best buddies with her cousin, Skye, Mac and Arro’s daughter.
The cousins couldn’t have been more opposite, but born in the same year, they’d grown up as close as sisters.
Skye was reserved, artsy, and seemed to be one of the few people Morwenna gravitated toward, despite the two-year age gap.
Next in age to Skye and Vivien was Nox (Lennox), Brodan and Monroe’s son.
He was almost fifteen but thought he was forty, was as big a flirt as Eilidh, but was also the one keeping peace at their table as Vivien argued with her younger brother, Brechin, who was Mor’s age.
The siblings had been at each other’s throats about everything and nothing, while Nox kept intervening in a laid-back manner that was a lot like his uncle Arran.
Arran and Ery’s twin daughters, Keely and Kia, were next in age and kept calling over to me with questions about the baby. They were fascinated and excited to be aunts, which was a nice change of pace from Harry who thought it was weird he was going to be a twelve-year-old uncle.
His birthday was a few weeks ago, and he liked to remind everyone whenever he could that he was twelve, as if this was some kind of statement of manhood.
The thought of high school had been a distant flag of beckoning teenagedom.
That was before classes started, and now Harry wouldn’t stop complaining about how much homework he had.
Also, he didn’t much like going from top of the school to the bottom.
“The sixth years treat us like wee kids,” he’d complained only five minutes ago, glowering at Vivien.
Vivien had shrugged insouciantly. “I’m not a sixth year. But you are a kid.”
A brussels sprout had gone miraculously flying at her head a few seconds later and landed in Arran’s glass of water with accidental precision. “What the fuck?”
“Language, for fuck’s sake,” Lachlan mock scolded, making us laugh because seriously, it was an uphill battle to get the men in Lewis’s family to watch their language now that the kids were all a bit older.
Arran had turned to the children’s table. “Who did that?”
“Wasn’t us, Daddy,” Keely assured him.
Harry began to whistle, as if that weren’t a dead giveaway.
Arran smirked and turned back around. “He’s a wee comedian.”
Dad threw a brussels sprout that hit Harry on the head with perfect aim.
“Oi!” Harry wrinkled his nose, rubbing his temple.
“Walker, really.” Mum slapped a hand over her face in disbelief as the Adair men burst into a rumble of laughter.
Dad shrugged. “Now he won’t throw another vegetable across the room because he knows his dad’s got better aim than him.”
I snorted, sharing a grin with Lewis as Arran got up, unbothered, to refresh his water.
Fyfe leaned over to us, chuckling. “I love your family.”
Looking around, feeling the room filled with the buzz of life, I touched the now growing swell of my stomach. I couldn’t be more grateful that my child would be raised among these wonderful people.
“Callie, is that a bump I see?” Regan asked from down the table, face bright with excitement.
“A small one.” I nodded, smoothing my hand across the slight swell.
“How many weeks are you?” Lewis’s Aunt Arro asked.
“Eighteen weeks. We had our fetal anomaly scan yesterday.”
“All good.” Lewis hurried to say. “Baby is in perfect health.”
Robyn leaned past Lachlan. “Are you doing a gender scan?”
I nodded. “We want to know. We have an appointment at a clinic in the city in three weeks.”
“Exciting.” Ery smiled, genuine joy in her eyes. “Are you particular about what you get?”
“Just pray it’s not twins.” Arran winked.
Having heard that, Kia bounced out of her chair and looped her arms around her dad’s neck. She pressed a loud kiss to his cheek and proclaimed, “You love us really, Daddy.”
Arran’s expression melted into utter tenderness as he leaned into her hug. “So much, Keekee.”
“Wrapped around their little fingers.” Ery shook her head, eyes bright with amusement. “I swear to God, they could come home and say they murdered someone but add ‘But we love you, Daddy’ onto the end of the confession, and he’d cover it up for them.”
“Not wrong.” He patted Kia’s arm before she pressed another kiss to the top of his head and returned to the kids’ table.
Lachlan turned to look at his daughter. “How come he gets that treatment and I get ‘Dad, have you got twenty quid?’ every five seconds?”
Vivien rested her chin on her palm. “You’re too smart for that kind of manipulation, Dad. I’m completely transparent with you because I respect your intelligence.”
Lachlan was just breaking into a smug grin when Vivien leaned forward. “But … do you have twenty quid?”
Her father scowled and turned back to the table as Vivien shot Skye a devilish smirk.
Robyn leaned into Lachlan. “She loves you really. She’s just fifteen.”
“I do!” Vivien waved her fingers without looking back at our table. “For the record, if we need to get mushy, I do love you, Dad. Your movies are a bit meh, but you’re great.”
We all struggled to hold back our laughter.
“Children.” Lachlan’s lips twitched. “Great for the ego.”
“What about my movies?” Brodan asked his niece.
“Oh, your movies were great, Uncle Bro. Why did you quit?”
“Note, she did not ask me that.” Lachlan took a huge swig of his pint. His wife’s mouth trembled with laughter while she soothed a comforting hand over his back.
Before Brodan could answer his niece, Regan interrupted. “You were saying about the sex of the baby?”
Lewis reached across the table to take my hand. “We’re happy with either.”
“I can’t believe my nephew is going to be a father.” Lachlan scrubbed a hand over his face. “I feel old. Or that might be because of my daughter. It’s hard to tell these days.”
“I love your movies, Dad!” Brechin yelled.
“You’ve never seen his movies,” Vivien shot back.
“But I know I love them.”
“Thanks, son.” Lachlan raised his glass to him. “I’ll give you twenty quid when we get home.”
“Uh!” Vivien squeaked in indignation as Brechin did a victory dance in his chair.
“How do you think I feel?” Thane asked, taking a sip of whisky. “I’m going to be a grandfather, and I’m younger than you.”
“Something you like to point out whenever you can.” Lachlan shrugged. “But I understand. You need something to cling to since I’m so much better looking than you are.”
Thane grinned. “Aye, you wish.”
I noticed Fyfe taking everything in, thoroughly entertained, and I was reminded he hadn’t had this growing up.
These messy, chaotic, bantering, silly, loving scenes of a large family.
Mum and I hadn’t either until moving here.
Then we’d become honorary Adairs, especially when Lewis and I were dating.
This family had a magic about them. Orphaned siblings whose bond was so strong, they lived on the same patch of land here in Caelmore, and even though they’d been blessed with wealth in a material sense, they’d always understood their true wealth was in each other.
Those who were lucky enough to be loved by them were forever fixed within that bond too.
Lewis had asked me to move in with him a few weeks ago. The house, which was now our house, had been cleared of the mess from the break-in. We’d ordered new furniture, some of which had arrived, some of which we had a few weeks to wait for.
Arro and Mac had been understanding when I broke the lease on the cottage, and they’d decided to sell it. It was snapped up in three days.
Now my home was with Lewis. I mean, it would always, always be with Mum too.
But, aye, it was with Lewis. My attention turned to him as he laughed with Fyfe over a story they were telling about a new student in our tae kwon do class.
I was still attending classes, so I’d witnessed the cocky wee shit who’d come in, total newbie, and challenged Lewis to a sparring match.
The kid was like a boxing bag. Every time Lewis defeated him (in two seconds, I might add), he bounced back, determined to take more.
Lewis was being incredibly patient with him, but he was taking up class time, so Fyfe stepped in and floored the kid with a jump back kick.
Like literally knocked him on his arse and the breath out of him.
I’d understood why Fyfe did what he did.
People like that kid would get themselves or someone else hurt if they didn’t learn from the get-go not to treat martial arts like a joke or worse, a weapon.
But it didn’t mean I didn’t love the fact that Lewis had the patience of a saint.
I kind of already knew that about him, though.
My gaze swept lovingly over his face as he talked and laughed.
Sometimes it took my breath away that he was mine.
As if he sensed me staring, he looked at me. He reached out casually and caressed my cheek before turning back to his conversation with his family. I smiled to myself and looked away, only to lock eyes with Regan.