Chapter 21
Twenty-One
EILIDH
More than once, I’d heard Fyfe say he’d never have kids, and even as I watched him cuddle and play with Harley—calling her that adorable nickname “Scooter”—I believed him. He wasn’t interested in being responsible for someone else or committing to a woman or child.
Yet, I’d understood with complete clarity why when, for the first time, I’d witnessed Fyfe cry, all because he was relieved Millie was his biological daughter.
He had no real family.
But now Millie was his.
No one could take that from him.
It was in his control to be a good father to her.
I knew he would be. I knew by the way Fyfe had taken to looking after his adorable baby daughter without complaint from the moment he’d found her on his doorstep.
He didn’t complain about the lack of sleep or how his formerly pristine home was now a mess of baby things.
Not once did he mention how his future had flipped on its head.
Fyfe’s true nature had won out with Millie. Deep down, Fyfe was what I always knew he could be: a nurturer, a protector. He was just terrified to be that man because the one person who was supposed to love him the most had abandoned him.
However, the way he was with Millie …
Despite our less than pleasant history, I was proud of Fyfe Moray.
“I think you’re a moron,” my brother had told me bluntly when I called to let him know Fyfe had received the DNA results.
When Lewis asked me if Fyfe would hire a nanny now, I’d informed him I was going to continue watching Millie until Fyfe figured out permanent childcare.
Calling me a moron was Lewis’s response.
“Excuse me?” I’d huffed.
“Look, I love you and I think it’s amazing you want to help Fyfe adjust to his new reality as a father, but this is masochistic, Eilidh. Why would you continue to put yourself in his orbit after he rejected you?”
“I’m over it,” I’d replied. “I’m dating Cameron.”
Lewis sighed. Heavily. “You don’t get over the person you love that quickly.”
“I’m not you.”
“Fine. Then I guess you never really loved Fyfe if it’s that easy.”
I’d sputtered in outrage.
“Either or, Eils. You’re a grown-up. I can’t protect you from everything. But please, be smart and don’t let yourself get hurt any more than you already have been.”
I promised him I wouldn’t, but the conversation with Lewis kept coming back to me throughout the next few days.
Fyfe had just taken on an important client, he was adamant about finding whoever planted the cameras in my apartment, and he was exhausting all resources to locate Millie’s mother so he could come to a legal custody arrangement.
I knew he was afraid Pamela would return and try to take his daughter from him.
The thought of Fyfe sharing a child with another woman was still disconcerting, but it wasn’t my business anymore.
“You seem preoccupied.” Cameron leaned across the table to touch my hand.
I blinked rapidly, guilt flushing through me. Thank goodness I wasn’t a blusher. “Oh, sorry. Um, it’s just been … crazy lately.”
I was totally zoned out of our date.
Cameron had invited me to his place for dinner.
It was our sixth date, and I knew it was time to progress from making out to sex.
I wanted to. I was attracted to Cameron.
It certainly wasn’t fair to him that he worked busy hours at the doctors’ surgery but had made time to cook a delicious meal (coq au vin—the name certainly suggested he expected sex) and here I was, thinking about anything but the handsome man before me.
Shit.
Cameron sat back in his chair, a blank look on his face. “You’re thinking about Fyfe?”
I’d told Cameron I was babysitting Millie.
With childcare taking up so much of my time, I had to.
Of course I’d explained who Fyfe was (though I didn’t tell Cameron I’d once been in love with my brother’s best friend) and I thought he understood.
In fact, Cameron seemed to think what I was doing was incredibly sweet.
Or he did think that a few days ago.
“I was thinking about Millie,” I corrected him. Dishonestly.
Cameron studied me thoughtfully. “Are you sure there’s nothing between you and Fyfe? Romantically, I mean?”
Was I giving off that vibe? How? I couldn’t possibly be. I was over him! “Of course not,” I answered truthfully. “I’m just his best friend’s wee sister.”
He frowned. “That’s what you are to him. What is he to you?”
Shrewd. The doctor was way too shrewd. It would be sexy if he wasn’t currently interrogating me. “A friend.” I crossed my arms, leaning back from the table. “And I don’t particularly enjoy being grilled about my relationships with other people.”
“I wasn’t grilling you. I asked a question.”
“Aye, one motivated by jealousy.”
Cameron’s fist tightened around a fork and he glanced away. “Sorry.”
Wariness shot through me. “I don’t do jealousy, Cameron. It’s kind of a big turnoff for me.”
After a few seconds, he released the fork and looked at me calmly. “Understood. It won’t happen again. You’re just … so beautiful. I want you to myself.”
Internally, I bristled. One: I belonged only to myself.
Two: I wanted to be wanted for more than a face and body I hadn’t earned.
It was a gift of genetics. As someone who was still on a path to liking herself, I needed the person I was dating to want me for me and not my looks.
I understood physical attraction was a part of human connection, but I needed more than just that.
“Let’s forget I asked.” He gave me a congenial smile and stood. “More wine?”
“I’m good.”
A few minutes later, Cameron led me over to his sofa. He’d rented a spacious bungalow not far from my aunt Arro and uncle Mac’s house. It was already furnished when he rented it, and Cameron complained it lacked his personality, but it was stylish and comfortable.
The uneasiness between us settled as we chatted about Cameron getting a grip on small-town life.
“And you?” he asked. “How is retirement treating you?”
The truth was my agent, Danny, had been in touch every other day pestering me about my future.
He’d warned me my performance in the last season of Young Adult had rumors whirring that I would be nominated for a BAFTA again next January.
That I owed it to the show to do all the interview requests coming in.
He’d been talking to my PR team who he said were inundated with queries.
Of course they were. Tell people you no longer wanted something millions of folks would kill to have, and suddenly you were cool as fuck as well as an ungrateful brat and everyone wanted to talk to you about it.
It took a minute, but after monologuing exactly how I was feeling, I think I finally got through to Danny.
“He’s going to back off?” Cameron asked.
“Yes. I told him I wasn’t going to change my mind about quitting acting.
That the last few weeks I’ve been happier than ever.
That he should focus his energy on other clients.
He said he was sorry to hear it, that he truly believed I was one of his most talented clients, which was lovely, but that he’d back off. And I believe him.”
At least that was one thing I didn’t have to worry about anymore.
Especially with so-called friends from the industry reaching out to ask if I was okay in a tone that most people usually reserved for the terminally ill.
Some of them had started sending me articles that trashed me under the pretense of being concerned.
I blocked them. Other friends were kinder, if not a little patronizing and disbelieving.
I turned off my Google Alerts and lived in absolute ignorant bliss.
The only downside was Jasper. One of the articles a “friend” sent was an interview he did where he pretty much insinuated that I was a diva who had ruined his chance to remain on a show he loved. Fans adored Jasper. I had no doubt my name was being dragged through the social media mud.
I had to admit, it made me cry.
Not because I was being vilified. I think I’d made peace with my inability to control other people’s gossiping ridiculousness.
No, I cried for a friendship lost. I cried because Jasper had betrayed me and because in his twisted, selfish mind, he did it because he thought me putting my mental health before the show was a betrayal of him.
After that, I deleted his contact from my phone.
Finally, my management team, whom I’d kept on to handle tying up my career, had reached out to let me know I’d received some disturbing death threats.
I was sad to say it wasn’t the first time.
When it did happen the first time, I freaked way the fuck out and had security accompany me everywhere.
Since then, we just forwarded all that stuff to the police.
But my management company was concerned I was at home without protection.
However, I felt the opposite. I felt safer in Ardnoch than anywhere.
I told them to forward on the threats to the police as per the usual process.
They kept a file of all the creepy emails, DMs, and letters, along with a list of dodgy characters who had revealed themselves and their stalker-like behavior.
My security teams used to memorize that list before we went anywhere.
I’d asked the team to forward the folder to me because it might prove useful, considering the cameras found in my London flat.
No. I hadn’t forgotten about that. I was just trying to compartmentalize that shit.
I stared at Cameron who waited for my answer about how retirement was treating me. “It’s good,” I replied simply. “Looking after Millie has been a nice change of pace.”
“Of course.” He nodded. “But you should remember you came home for yourself. You should concentrate on your writing.”
He said it casually, but there was a pointed sharpness to his tone. “I came home for my family. Millie’s family. I’ll take care of her for as long as she needs.”
His smile was soft. “You’re a good person.”
Hmm.
As if he sensed my uncertainty about his motives, Cameron leaned in to kiss me. He was a good kisser. I’d give him that.
Deepening the kiss, Cameron drew me against him, his hands smoothing around my waist and under my T-shirt.
The image of Fyfe standing half-naked in his bedroom flashed in my mind.
I’d stupidly walked into his bedroom without knocking the morning Millie puked up her breakfast. Though I knew Fyfe was built, I’d still been stunned by how beautiful he was.
Tight, sculpted muscle wrapped in smooth tan skin.
He had a slight dusting of hair on his chest that narrowed downward in a happy trail.
I’d seen plenty of men half-naked, men whose sole purpose in life was to look good on camera.
None of them had affected me the way the sight of Fyfe Moray affected me.
Stop thinking about him!
To dismiss Fyfe from my mind, I followed Cameron’s lead and pulled his shirt out of his trousers. He groaned into the kiss, pressing me back against the couch as my hands slipped under to smooth over his stomach. There was no happy trail, like Fyfe’s.
Stop, stop, stop!
Cameron was attractive.
I was attracted to him.
I moaned deliberately to prove it to myself.
But at the feel of his fingers undoing the top button on my jeans, I instinctually covered his hand with mine and broke the kiss.
He searched my face. “Are you okay?”
Gently, I pushed his hand from me. “I … I’m sorry. I … I’m not ready …”
“Hey.” Cameron cupped my face in his hands. “Eilidh, I’m not in this for a quick roll in the sack. We can take this slow.”
Relieved, I nodded. “Thank you. You’re a gentleman.”
“I want to treat you right. You’re so beautiful, Eilidh.” He brushed his lips over mine, almost reverently. “I can’t wait to make love to you, but I can wait. If that makes sense.”
At his smile, I forced a grin.
Make love.
Oh boy.
Not long later, I gave my excuses and left. Cameron kissed me at the door, this time even hungrier than last, his hands squeezing my hips as his erection dug into me. Although I experienced a stirring of arousal, I departed dazed and confused.
Sex had never been a big deal to me. I lost my virginity when I was sixteen and it happened because I wanted it to happen. From that moment on, sex was just for pleasure. It wasn’t about intimacy. It was about getting off.
I’d never tied up sex with romance in the past.
Until Fyfe.
And we hadn’t even had sex!
So, why oh why did the thought of having sex with a man I wasn’t in love with suddenly dampen my libido?